Modern Family: New Life-Chapter 259: Talk with friends

Sunday, November 13, 2011

It had only been two days since the semifinal in which Mater Dei eliminated Centennial. Five days remained until the section final.

Andrew was at Howard’s house.

It was eight in the evening, and the group was finishing a round of pizza in the living room: Leonard, Steve, Haley, Alex, Howard, and Andrew. The television was on with the volume low, more as background noise than anything else.

That same day, Andrew and Steve had concluded their official visit to Stanford University. The final meeting with the staff had taken place in the morning, close to noon. By five-thirty, they were already back home.

And Andrew wanted to hang out with his close friends.

On Friday, after the semifinal victory, Andrew had attended a big party organized by his schoolmates. Lots of people, too much music, and too many stares. Then on Saturday, Stanford. An intense weekend.

So even though he was tired and had school the next day, he still wanted to see them. And there was one more person there, someone outside the usual group: Jade.

She had already met Leonard, Howard, Haley, and Alex days earlier. This time, it was Steve’s turn.

Andrew had invited Jade.

But it was already the second time they had seen each other that weekend, which, in terms of both of them, meant quite a lot.

On Friday, after the game, Andrew had invited Jade to the party without much expectation.

Jade had agreed to go.

That surprised him. Because Jade didn’t seem like the kind of girl who would accept going to a party full of loud, superficial students. Or at least, that’s what her critical взгляд toward almost anything that smelled of banality suggested. She didn’t fit that environment.

According to Howard and Leonard, who analyzed anything related to goth girls with utmost seriousness, Jade hadn’t gone for the party.

She had gone to observe and, if necessary, to make sure no girl crossed the line with Andrew. Like a bodyguard.

It made sense to him. It didn’t bother him. What had happened with Willa had taught him several things.

Willa had been his best friend. They had been close and consistent. When Pippa, his ex-girlfriend, had shown jealousy toward her, Andrew had stood firm: they were just friends, nothing more. He hadn’t distanced himself, nor had he given in. He had defended that friendship.

But when Willa got a boyfriend, the story changed. She didn’t act the way he had.

Faced with her new boyfriend’s jealousy, Willa did put distance between herself and Andrew. She prioritized her relationship. Andrew was pushed to the background.

Andrew never said it out loud, but it had bothered him. Why hadn’t she acted the way he had, defending the friendship?

It made him understand that intense closeness between a boy and a girl, when one of them is in a relationship, almost always creates friction. Rational or not. But it’s there.

Now he saw it clearly. If he had an official girlfriend again, she would be the priority when it came to female friendships.

A very close female friendship, no matter how innocent, almost always ended up generating doubts or insecurities.

Being honest, he no longer had close female friendships. With Willa, they were now just casual friends, and they only talked when she showed up at group hangouts. And lately, that wasn’t often.

His circle was more than covered. With Steve, Archie, Kevin, Reggie, Howard, and Leonard, he had everything he needed in terms of camaraderie.

And on the female side, his cousins Haley and Alex were more than enough. With them, there was absolute trust without ambiguity.

Although Andrew had learned to understand certain jealousies, he was also very clear about where the line was.

He remembered the first time Pippa had shown insecurity in an obvious way. It hadn’t been because of a deep friendship or secret messages. It was because Andrew occasionally met up with Regina to go running. That was it. They shared a few sessions because their schedules matched.

They weren’t close friends, there was no ambiguity, no hidden intentions. They were simply classmates who shared basic cordiality. And even so, that had created tension.

For Andrew, that was irrational. Not because he lacked sensitivity, but because it reflected a lack of trust. If he had to start measuring every casual conversation, every hallway greeting, and every interaction with a female classmate, then the line had already shifted into exaggeration.

One thing was protecting a relationship. Something entirely different was being afraid to speak to a girl out of fear of making your girlfriend uncomfortable.

With Jade, those more irrational jealousies seemed more common in her nature. Her intense and possessive personality could, in theory, amplify small situations.

A prolonged glance. An overly enthusiastic fan. Or even something as simple as the photo he had taken last week at the pizzeria with the two girl fans. Jade hadn’t said anything, nor had she openly shown annoyance, but her expression had hardened.

Still, he decided not to anticipate problems that didn’t yet exist. For now, Jade hadn’t crossed that line. She had shown character. A bit of territorial instinct, too. But nothing excessive.

"So, how was the Stanford visit?" Haley asked, leaning slightly forward as everyone finished the last slices of pizza.

Steve didn’t hesitate to answer. "Two amazing days. Five-star hotel, five!" he emphasized, raising his open hand for effect. "I didn’t think those brainiacs would give us a better hotel than Missouri did."

"So jealous..." Howard muttered, looking at him with resignation as Steve enthusiastically described the hotel, the meals, the campus tour, and the more subdued atmosphere of Stanford’s stadium.

"Sounds like you went on vacation more than to analyze your future," Jade commented in her characteristic dry, slightly critical tone.

"I did!" Steve replied without losing his grin. "Andrew’s the one who has to analyze the boring institutional talks. I’ll just choose whatever he chooses."

Andrew shook his head as he took the last bite of his pizza.

"I can’t believe Steve has a better chance of getting into Stanford than students who practically kill themselves studying," Alex said, raising her eyebrows with a mix of genuine indignation and annoyance.

Stanford wasn’t just any university. Its acceptance rate was around one digit. Every year, thousands of students with perfect grades, flawless extracurriculars, and outstanding recommendations were rejected. It was an institution where being academically strong wasn’t enough, you had to stand out in multiple dimensions.

"Life is unfair, and this is one of countless examples," Leonard added, adjusting his glasses with a philosophical air.

"Yeah, damn athletes..." Howard muttered, clicking his tongue. "Why didn’t I have more athletic talent?"

Howard, Leonard, and Alex were among the top students of their generation.

Leonard, with an IQ far above average, was practically an academic anomaly. And yet none of them were flying on paid trips, staying in luxury hotels, or being treated as VIP prospects by elite colleges.

The contrast was obvious.

Andrew and Steve weren’t receiving that treatment because of their grades. They were receiving it because football generated millions, filled stadiums, and drew national audiences.

"Hey, everyone has their strengths. You’ll help humanity by curing diseases or something. We’ll entertain people and make history in football. Perfectly balanced," Steve said with a shameless grin, not a trace of embarrassment.

"Wait a second," Alex interrupted, setting her glass down on the coffee table and staring at him. "What’s your GPA? The average admitted to Stanford is around 3.9 to 4.0. I highly doubt yours is there."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Steve replied sarcastically.

He cleared his throat and added, with a hint of arrogance, "Stanford’s head coach told us the minimum competitive GPA for athletes is 3.5. Just because it’s us," he said, placing a hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

"Half a point advantage? Unbelievable," Leonard commented, genuinely impressed by the concession coming from Stanford. They probably didn’t do that for just any prospect.

Even so, it was still a far more demanding standard than at most other universities.

"Hey, I don’t need that concession," Andrew said with a slight tone of pride. "I have a 3.7."

Alex looked at him and nodded internally. Her cousin’s average was well above the norm. Considering how much time he had to dedicate to football and the media noise surrounding his season, it was an excellent GPA.

"And you?" Jade asked, raising an eyebrow at Steve. "Do you actually have that 3.5?" 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"No," Steve replied as if it were no big deal. "I have a 3.3."

"Then why are you acting so confident?" Howard exclaimed, incredulous.

Steve made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "It’s just 0.2. I can raise it in one semester if I need to. And besides, that’s only if we go to Stanford. With the others, I’m covered. Out of five options, only one would require me to improve my grades. Statistically, Andrew will probably choose another one and I won’t even have to push that hard."

The logic wasn’t entirely absurd. If Stanford represented one option out of five, it carried a theoretical probability of twenty percent. That meant an eighty percent chance Andrew would choose another university, one with more flexible academic requirements.

For example, UCLA generally required an admitted GPA close to 3.8 for regular applicants. However, for elite athletes, the competitive standard could sit around 3.3. Still demanding, but with more room within the athletic department.

In the case of Georgia, it was a solid academic institution, but with its strong football focus in the SEC, the competitive GPA for elite athletes could hover around 3.0-3.1.

And finally, with the Missouri Tigers, general admits typically fell between 3.3 and 3.5. But for elite athletes receiving full scholarships, a 3.0 average was usually sufficient.

In practical terms, Stanford was the only one truly putting Steve against the academic wall.

The rest were relatively safe ground.

Still, Steve’s GPA wasn’t bad.

The national average GPA in 2011, on the traditional 4.0 scale, hovered around 3.0-3.2. That represented a solid average student, not outstanding, but certainly not weak.

With a 3.3, Steve was above that average. He wasn’t academically brilliant, but he was consistent. He had never hidden the fact that he didn’t love studying, but since transferring to Notre Dame High School, a private school slightly more demanding than Palisades, he had raised his level.

And during this senior year, as college decisions approached, he had taken academics more seriously. Not out of passion. Out of strategy.

He knew the universities they were aiming for were academically strong, except perhaps the Tigers, who were more flexible. They weren’t Stanford, but they didn’t accept just anyone either. So he needed to maintain above a 3.0 if he wanted UCLA or Georgia to remain realistic options.

A 3.5 was the mark of a very good student.

Andrew, on the other hand, was well above average: a 3.7. An excellent student considering the number of hours he dedicated to football, YouTube, game analysis, and the media exposure that could easily distract anyone.

Then came a 3.8, which placed someone in roughly the top 10–15% of a typical graduating class. That was where Howard stood.

And at the absolute peak, 3.9 to 4.0, were Leonard and Alex. Pure academic elite.

As for Haley, she had changed a lot over the past two years. Since deciding she wanted to pursue fashion, she had become more disciplined. She knew she would need to get into a strong academy in Los Angeles, and that had forced her to raise her level. Her current GPA was 3.4, perfectly competitive for demanding creative programs.

"It would only be twenty percent if all the official visits were equal," Haley said, crossing her arms, unconvinced by Steve’s statistical logic.

She meant that if Andrew had five perfectly equivalent options, each would hold a 20% chance. But it didn’t work like that.

After each visit, things shifted. The campus, the athletic facilities, the staff’s treatment, the plan they presented, the personal feeling. All of that moved the scale. One university could jump from 20 to 35 percent. Another could drop to 10. It wasn’t a coin flip.

Haley wanted a clearer answer. She wanted to know if Stanford had truly lived up to expectations, if the visit had been exceptional, simply solid, or disappointing.

Because deep down, she had a clear preference: she wanted Andrew to stay in California.

And realistically, only two strong in-state options remained: UCLA or Stanford.

Even if Stanford meant flights and some distance, it was still California. And that was preferable to Georgia or Missouri.

Haley looked directly at Andrew, knowing Steve had experienced the visit more like a vacation than a strategic evaluation.

Andrew nodded.

"It was good," he said calmly. "They know their star, Andrew Luck, is leaving for the draft this year. So the spot is open. They didn’t promise me the starting job, no one does, even if you’re the number one prospect. But they did say I could compete from day one. And that they can adapt the system, like they did with Luck, if I show the level."

Andrew was genuinely surprised. He had imagined Stanford as a more rigid institution athletically, just as it was academically. He had expected something more closed-off and traditional, more of a "this is what we do, take it or leave it" approach.

Instead, he found a staff willing to listen. Willing to explain how they could maximize his strengths and speak in terms of collaboration rather than imposition.

At times, Andrew forgot something important.

His own status.

He wasn’t just another recruit. He wasn’t a three, or four-star prospect fighting for a scholarship. He was the number one prospect in the country, nationally followed, with media impact and real professional projection.

When someone like that visits a campus, the program competes against the other colleges Andrew has visited, not against the player.

Stanford was trying to win over a piece that could define its next cycle.

Haley nodded, absorbing every word. ’That’s good,’ she thought, briefly exchanging a glance with Alex, who was also mentally taking notes.

Steve added, "And Saturday’s game was insane. I think it was the best one we’ve seen so far."

"Yeah," Andrew nodded with a smile, remembering it. "Great Saturday of college football."

The matchup had been Stanford Cardinal vs the Oregon Ducks.

Both teams came in 9–0. Undefeated. Top 5 nationally. Leaders of the Pac-12 North and legitimate BCS contenders.

It was the kind of game that defines seasons.

The first half had been tight and intense. Back and forth. But in the second half, Oregon exploded.

Final score: 53–30 for Oregon.

A tough and strategically relevant loss.

Stanford competed in the Pac-12 North, currently the strongest division in the conference. Oregon was their direct rival, and finishing first wasn’t easy. If you didn’t win the division, you didn’t play in the conference championship against the winner of the South.

The South, at that moment, was weaker. It had USC Trojans, but the program was going through sanctions that limited its competitiveness, sanctions that wouldn’t end until after that season.

As for UCLA Bruins, their season had been mediocre. They started strong but declined sharply, and there was already talk of an imminent coaching staff dismissal.

That meant Stanford’s path to a conference title was far more complicated than its Southern counterpart.

Andrew noticed that. Stanford was elite. But it had a direct, constant obstacle: the Ducks.

In his last two official visits, Andrew had also witnessed two of the main Heisman contenders of that season in person.

At Missouri, he had seen Robert Griffin III as an opponent of the Tigers.

At Stanford, he had seen Luck.

It was a shame, knowing Luck would finish second, another year falling short of first place like in 2010, unable to win a Heisman despite his remarkable college career.

Andrew also remembered briefly running into an Oregon assistant coach in the mixed zone. The man had greeted him quickly, professionally, almost casually, telling him it was good to see him and that they’d talk soon.

Andrew only had one official visit left. And the powerhouses knew it. Oregon, USC, Alabama, they were more active, more persistent, and more relentless than ever.

Still, despite watching Oregon dominate Stanford in the second half and close the game with a margin of more than twenty points, Andrew didn’t feel drawn to the Ducks.

On the contrary.

Stanford felt more appealing.

Going to the team that dominated the division could be comfortable. It could increase the odds of immediate titles. But that wasn’t what motivated him most. What attracted him was the challenge.

Stanford had talent, structure, and prestige, but it also had a clear barrier: the Oregon Ducks. If he arrived and managed to change that dynamic, if he accomplished what Andrew Luck hadn’t fully been able to complete, consistently defeating the Ducks and dominating the Pac-12 North, the narrative would be different.

For someone like Andrew, that was far more seductive than simply choosing the strongest option.

"But..." Andrew said.

Haley and Alex looked at him immediately.

"But what?" Haley asked.

"They’re too academically demanding. They don’t really give concessions. It’s expected, but they’re rigid," Andrew replied with a sigh.

"Yeah. They lower the requirement a bit for admission and that’s it. After that, they treat us like any other student. Bastards," Steve added, clicking his tongue.

Alex looked at him without blinking. "Yes, you should publicly complain on Twitter about one of the best universities in the world. I’m sure they’ll listen and change the system just for you."

Steve made an exaggerated face. "Very funny."

But he continued, more animated now. "On top of that, they want us to lead the program, win titles, bring back Pac-12 dominance, beat Oregon, and at the same time maintain a brutal academic standard. Traveling every week, training like professionals, under media pressure, while they make millions off football. Very convenient."

Jade, who had been silent until then, looked at him. "For the first time, I agree with you about something."

Everyone turned toward her.

"They’re going to squeeze you on both fronts. Maximum athletic pressure and still expecting you to maintain an elite academic level. It’s a double load," Jade added with a faint look of disdain toward institutions like that.

Leonard nodded slowly. Howard did too.

"If the goal is to go pro," Howard added, "killing yourself on both fronts might not be the most efficient strategy."

Alex slightly frowned, but didn’t argue.

’That’s negative,’ Haley thought.

If Stanford added extra academic difficulty, the percentage dropped, it made the path harder than necessary compared to the other options.

Options like UCLA, Georgia, and Missouri were structured with a more favorable understanding of the elite athlete. They weren’t easy, but they were more flexible. More adapted to the real workload of a competitive program, even if college football was officially labeled amateur.

Steve noticed Haley’s expression and cleared his throat.

"Well... Andrew Luck did it. At a very high academic level. Why couldn’t we?" he said, trying to rebalance things. "And Andrew’s always been good at school. It won’t be hard for him."

Haley looked up. "That’s true."

Andrew leaned back against the couch with an almost lazy expression.

"Don’t speak for me. It’s a negative point. I’m not Leonard or Alex. I only pushed myself in high school because I wanted to graduate early. A super difficult degree doesn’t change anything if my goal is to go pro."

Steve glanced at him sideways, ’I’m trying to lift your cousin’s mood,’ he thought, realizing Andrew wasn’t even registering the emotional subtext of the conversation.

The room fell silent for a few seconds until Howard broke it.

"What about your fifth visit? Do you already have someone in mind? When would it be?"

"Yeah. Next weekend. After the final," Andrew replied.

It was the perfect timing. Get it out of the way before the state championship began, assuming he will win the final, of course.

That way, he would have all five official visits completed. And the rest of the colleges would stop bombarding him with emails, calls, text messages, and coaches "randomly" showing up at games or sending intermediaries to talk to him.

"Oh, sooner than I expected. And who is it?" Leonard asked.

Everyone looked at Andrew with curiosity. Even Steve, who, this time, didn’t have the scoop.

Andrew let the silence stretch just a second longer than necessary.

"Texas A&M."

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