I step into the doorway and then freeze when another student is sitting in the chair in front of her desk. Not just any student. Janine. Also known as the bane of my existence.
“Sorry.” I check the clock on the far wall. “I thought we were meeting at five.”
“We are.” She waves me in. “Have a seat.”
The only available chair is crammed into a corner and has a stack of medical journals in the seat.
I hesitate, avoiding Janine’s gaze. We’ve been duking it out for the past three years. Both premed, both at the top of the class, both hate to be outdone.
“You can set those on the bookcase,” Dr. Salco instructs.
Once I’m finally squeezed into the small chair, she starts. “Thank you two for coming. I won’t mince words. Choosing a recipient for the department scholarship has been difficult this year. You’re both straight-A students, hardworking, and each juggling your own extracurriculars on top of school. Your professors have wonderful things to say about you. Both of your recommendations are top-notch. In short, it’s been an impossible task deciding between the two of you.”
And here I thought I was the clear choice. Sure, Janine is smart and gets good grades, but she relies too much on her book smarts and being ultra-prepared and organized. Not that those things aren’t important, but being a doctor requires you to be ready for anything, to think on your feet.
“What does that mean for the scholarship?” I ask.
“You’re not going to make us split it, are you? I need that scholarship more than Adam does. Half isn’t enough,” Janine says.
Dr. Salco raises a hand to silence us. Which is great because I need to keep my cool and that’s impossible when Janine spouts off. She has no idea what I need.
“No. The rules are clear that only one student can be selected, but to help the committee choose, we’d like you both to join us for the scholarship banquet. Tell us in your own words why you should be chosen.”
“You want us to give a speech?” I sit forward and swallow thickly.
“How long should the speech be? And are there any guidelines for content outside of why I’m a better candidate?” Janine takes notes on her iPad.
I grind my teeth at her eager and prepared attitude, then unzip my backpack for a pen and paper.
“Five minutes is plenty. The focus should be on your accomplishments and plans for the future. The committee is made up of doctors and professors who have been in your shoes. Make your case.” Her mouth pulls into a tight-lipped smile. “I will email all the details,” she says to me as I continue, elbow-deep in my bag, rummaging for something to write on.
“Thank you,” I mutter quietly.
Once she dismisses us, I walk out feeling a lot less optimistic than when I arrived. Janine is a step behind me as we exit. Neither of us speaks until we’re outside of the building.
“Don’t look so down, Adam. Sweet talking women is your specialty, right?” She rolls her eyes.
“I doubt that’s going to work considering the committee is sixty percent male,” I fire back. “Also, I don’t sweet talk women.”
“Sure, whatever you say. At least you don’t have to worry about all the old men who still think women should be nurses instead of doctors.”
Yeah, that definitely sucks. I’ve seen it firsthand in a couple of classes too. Extra help, pulling me and a few other guys aside after class to make sure we’re doing okay, and probably other instances that I didn’t even pick up on.
I level with her. “I need that scholarship.”
“So do I. I’m already in debt from undergrad.”
I was lucky that I got a full-ride scholarship for hockey, but it’s nothing compared to the total we’ll need for medical school.
“What do you think they’re going to be looking for in our speeches?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I glance around the campus greens, mind racing. “Assurances that we won’t drop out probably. Or flunk out.”
“Do you want to get together to work on our speeches?” she asks, sounding like she’d rather not.
“You know, most people wouldn’t share their plans with the enemy so willingly.”
She mutters something under her breath that I don’t catch, then says, “If I win, I want to know it’s because I’m the better candidate.”
“Well, when I win, you can extend that same line of thinking and know I’m the better candidate.”
“Your ego is obnoxious.” She takes a step down the sidewalk. “Tomorrow after biochemistry?”
“I’ll be there.”
The following afternoon, I slide into a chair opposite Janine at a table on the second floor of the library. She’s already got her laptop open and a printed draft of her speech sitting beside her.
“I worked on it all night. It’s rough, but I tried to hit three main points.”
I pick it up and scan multiple pages. Jesus. I haven’t even started. I drop it to the table. “Okay. Let’s hear them.”
“Point number one, I’m an exceptional student and dedicated to the medical field. I have an example of my work with the crisis line. Point number two, all the reasons why I want to be a doctor and the justifications for why I think I’ll be good at it. I won’t bore you with my life story.”
“Gonna hear it eventually anyway.”
“And point three, my goals and promises for the future as it relates to being a doctor.”
“Not bad,” I say. Not bad at all.
“Not bad isn’t good.” She sounds offended that I didn’t love it.
“It’s just that what you have planned is exactly what they’re expecting. We both drone on about our qualifications and hopes and dreams, and then they choose based on what? Who they like better?”
“That is the basic setup of this whole thing.”
“They already know all this shit about us.” I wave toward her papers. “They’ve seen our transcripts and probably our admission letters, too.”
She nods. “Yeah. So, what are you suggesting instead?”
I tap my pencil on the table. “I’m not sure.”
“All night and that’s what you came up with?” She gives me a look like she expected as much from me. “You know, you won’t be able to glide through med school like you have the past four years.”
“What does that mean?”
“You show up unprepared. Always. Class, meetings, study group. And it works for you because you’re smart and professors like you.”
“I’m not unprepared. I thought we were meeting today to prepare. Instead, you over-prepared, like you always do.”
“I’m sorry if I don’t wait until the last minute to do everything.”
“As opposed to doing it three weeks before the professor assigns it and then having to redo it because it was wrong.”
“That was one time, and I was going out of town. I was trying to work ahead.” She throws her arms up.
“Admit it, Janine. We’re different and that’s fine. Your speech is totally you and I’m sure it’s great. I’m just not sure that’s the format I want to go with. Maybe going different directions is best. It’ll show them who we are at our core.”