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Upper East Side

Derek has had a crush on Katie for nine months now. That’s a full-grown fetus of laying groundwork for a date, or a kiss, or maybe just some impassioned eye contact. They do homework together.

“Here’s your B-12,” my doctor said as he plunged a syringe into my left shoulder.  I like my doctor. But that’s a story for another time. This is about Tuesday when I’m pretty sure I got high on B-12.

Get admitted to Harvard College before any of your non-black friends. They don’t get into Harvard, Yale, or Princeton, are stuck with Washington University (a much lesser school). Tell you it’s all your fault. They were National Merit Scholars. They did community activism in Botswana. They got a perfect score on the SATs. They went Le Rosey in Switzerland but then transferred to Dalton (a $250,000 education).

Go home for the holidays and run into old friends from high school. When you tell them that you live in New York, watch their eyes widen. They’ll say, “Oh my god, New York? That’s so crazy. I’m so jealous!” Have a blasé attitude about it but deep down inside, know they have good reason to be jealous.

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