MFA Programs for Creative Writing all require a 20-30 page writing sample; this is the key to the application. And so I am editing a chapter from my bad side for the purpose.

We drove through the iron and brick gate, past the soccer fields and distant trees to a long quadrangle, yellow brick buildings going down the sides like a prison. An old man and woman stood on the wide concrete steps of the white-pillared building at the end.

“Good afternoon, Headmaster Hostler.” Nani looked like a corpse in her fresh lipstick.

Headmaster Hostler was badly shaped, fat in his stomach and legs, and then pinched up at his shoulders and face; it made his blazer come out like a dress. “Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Keynes. You’ve met my wife, Mrs. Hostler?”

“Welcome to St. Augustine’s.” Mrs. Hostler shook Nani’s hand.

Headmaster Hostler bent down to me, his thin hair hung over his giant forehead in thick greasy lines. “Perseverare Conantur.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Perseverare Conantur.” Mrs. Hostler indicated the gold cursive writing above the doorway. “Do you know what that means?”

“It’s Latin.”

She had a tight face, her skin bright and gluey. “And what does it mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Endeavor…”

“Endeavor,” I repeated.

A tall girl came up behind us. “Endeavor to Persevere.”“Thank you, Miss Bocklin.” Mrs. Hostler said. “This is St. Augustine’s Head Girl, our very first.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hostler.”

“Quite a responsibility, isn’t it, Miss Bocklin?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hostler.”

“We are sure you are up to the challenge.”