Personal Jurisdiction (2 page)

Whitney took a deep breath and navigated to her Gmail account. Her stomach flip-flopped when she saw the email. All she had to do was open it, and she would know whether her dreams had a chance of coming true. She knew she should not look at it in the middle of this meeting, but she could not hold back. She had to know. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then clicked open.

She felt her stomach drop and then leap as her score appeared on the screen. The conference room faded into a blur, and her eyes glazed over as she saw the phrase “99th Percentile” in black and white on her computer screen. She could not believe it. She had actually done it! She bit her bottom lip to keep from squealing and clenched her fingers into two tight fists. With all her concern over not acting devastated if she discovered a disappointing score, she had not planned for the possibility of concealing her elation at discovering an exceptional score. She sucked in her breath in a confused mixture of joy and disbelief.

“Ms. Morris, are you still with us?” The sound of her boss’s voice caused Whitney to peel her eyes away from the laptop screen. She slowly focused on Roger’s expectant face, and then on the slightly amused faces of her coworkers.

“Well?”

“I-I…I’m sorry. I have to go.” Whitney closed her laptop, tossed her Styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee into the waste bin, and walked out of the conference room from hell.

Her life was about to change. She just had no idea how much.

Whitney fidgeted in her seat as the bus headed north on Lake Shore Drive. Downtown Chicago loomed large in front of her. It had been almost a year since she received her LSAT score, and this was it—day one of orientation at Northwestern Law. When the acceptance letter had arrived, Whitney had danced around her small apartment for a solid hour, making phone call after phone call to share the good news. Her Texas born-and-bred parents did not understand why she wanted to go to law school in a
liberal
city like Chicago. They spat out the word “liberal” quickly, as if it might poison them if they let it sit on their tongues for too long. Rachel thought that Whitney had lost her mind and was going through a quarter-life crisis. Everyone told her she had no idea what she was getting into. Whitney had not cared about the Debbie Downer responses she received. They did not understand what an amazing opportunity this was.

Now, however, as she was minutes away from meeting her new classmates, Whitney struggled to keep the negative voices out of her head. Was she smart enough to succeed at such an elite school? Would her classmates like her? Would she be one of the unlucky ones who did not land a firm job, leaving her with an even bigger mountain of debt than she already had, and no chance of ever paying it off? Was her outfit today appropriate?

Whitney furrowed her brow, knowing that many would consider her concern over her outfit ridiculous. But, physical appearance is a large part of what kind of first impression you make, and there were going to be a lot of first impressions today. Whitney had spent almost an hour with a flat-iron that morning, taming her wavy tresses until they fell perfectly sleek and straight around her shoulders. She spent at least another twenty minutes scrutinizing her closet, with no idea what she was hoping to find. Whitney felt like her outfit was boring, but, honestly, what did one wear to law school orientation? The schedule she received said business casual, so she opted for a classic black sheath dress, the only one she owned. A beige cardigan was thrown in her black tote, but it was too hot and muggy to wear it outside. She finished the ensemble with a pair of nude pumps, gold-toned hoop earrings, and a gold-toned bangle on her wrist. She glanced down at her fingernails, which she had painted a demure, creamy color for the occasion. She bought the polish, as she often did, because she liked the color name: Cappuccino. It came pretty close to matching the color of her shoes.

Whitney stepped off the bus and walked the few blocks to Northwestern Law’s campus. She had already made this trip twice last week. After moving into her apartment in Lakeview, a neighborhood on the north side of Chicago, she practiced the commute a few times to make sure she knew what she was doing. Her nervousness over getting around on public transportation made her feel a bit childish, but she told herself that since Texas had almost no public transportation, she had an excuse for feeling that way. She knew that most of the law students were living right next to the campus in a neighborhood named Streeterville, but when she saw those apartment prices she nearly had a heart attack. The city of Chicago is made up of several distinct neighborhoods, and the apartment finder who helped her find her cheaper apartment a few miles away assured her that Lakeview was a “way cooler” neighborhood, anyways. Having lived her whole life in the suburbs of Dallas, Whitney was excited to experience life in such a big city, and was sure that any neighborhood she chose here would be “way cooler” than suburbia.

Whitney walked through the front doors of the law school into the large, open atrium. Several people milled around holding purple folders. Some looked bored, some looked excited, and some looked as nervous as Whitney felt. Whitney checked in at a table near the entrance and was given her own purple folder. The girl who checked her in had the hugest smile Whitney had ever seen, and told her that the Dean would be giving a welcome speech in thirty minutes to kick off orientation. Whitney knew she should try to be friendly and introduce herself to some of the other students, but she felt suddenly overwhelmed. She opted to go find the auditorium and wait for the Dean’s speech.

Whitney settled into a seat a little more than halfway back from the stage, and was just beginning to flip through the papers in her purple folder when an energetic voice next to her startled her.

“Hi! Do you mind if I sit here?”

Whitney turned to look at the slender girl the voice belonged to. The girl’s dark brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her sleeveless turquoise dress looked magnificent next to her olive skin. A chunky necklace of coral stones and matching coral earrings completed the ensemble. Her makeup was flawless. Fresh and bright were the words that came to Whitney’s mind.

“I’m Elise. Elise Young. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you!” Elise extended her hand and Whitney shook it, surprised that such a slim hand produced such a firm grasp.

“No, no worries! Please, sit down. I’m Whitney. Nice to meet you. I love your dress.”

“Thanks!” Elise’s green eyes brightened. “It’s vintage Oscar de la Renta! One of my favorites.” She lowered her voice and said, “I tried on a bazillion things before figuring out what to wear today.”

“Me too!” Whitney said, and could not resist a quick giggle. Elise’s energy was contagious, and Whitney was in awe of the fact that she was sitting next to someone wearing a vintage Oscar de la Renta piece. It made her feel a little bit like she had just stepped into an episode of
Sex and the City
.

“Where are you from?” Elise asked.

“Dallas. I just moved here last week.”

“Dallas! I’ve never been.” Elise’s eyes widened. “Do you know any real-life cowboys?”

“No…most of the cowboy types are pretty full of themselves. I try to stay away.”

“Oh.” Elise looked disappointed, but was over it in a moment. “I’m from Connecticut, but I’ve spent the last two years in Boston. I went to undergrad at Brown and wanted to stay in the general area, so I worked for this startup company in their marketing department. The startup really took off…”

Elise continued describing what sounded like a glamorous job full of very hot men, lots of partying, and little actual work. Elise would have been content to continue working there forever, but her parents insisted she get a graduate degree and offered to pay for it, so here she was. She had enjoyed working with the lawyers the startup had hired, and thought she would be good at legal work. Maybe. She shrugged and laughed, like spending three years and $150,000 of tuition on something she was “maybe” interested in was no big deal.

“So, anyways, enough about me, what did you do before law school?”

Whitney felt her face heating up and turning pink. Elise seemed nice enough, but once she learned that Whitney did not have a trendy job on her résumé, or vintage anything in her closet, this minutes old friendship was probably going to stall out.

“Well, I mean, I went to a state school. UT. University of Texas. And my parents have no money so I had a ton of student loan debt when I graduated. So I had to find a job quickly, and you know when you are under time pressure you kind of settle for whatever. So I took a job in a call center, as a customer service agent, but I didn’t have to answer the phones for very long, thank goodness, because I got promoted to management. But it was still pretty boring and going nowhere so I decided to come to law school. I want to work for a firm and not have to work in a call center anymore.”

Whitney winced and forced herself to stop rambling. She had pretty much done her trademark confess-everything-you-feel-uncomfortable-about-at-once move. Only this wasn’t confessing to a stranger that she spent too much on a latte. This was confessing to a classmate at Northwestern Law that she, Whitney Morris, was a nobody. Elise’s green eyes widened again as she took it all in, and Whitney was sure she was going to get up and go find someone else to sit with.

“Cool,” Elise said. “I’ll probably work for a firm, too. At least for a little while. My parents want me to get a respectable job.” Elise rolled her eyes, then laughed. Whitney let out the breath she had been holding. Either Elise was being nice, or she really did not care one way or the other what Whitney had done before law school. Whitney hoped it was the latter option.

“Is this seat taken?” A tall girl wearing white capris and an orange peasant top asked, then plopped down next to Elise before even receiving an answer. Apparently, this girl had focused on the casual part of the business casual dress code. She was even wearing sandals. Okay, so they were beautiful orange leather sandals, but still. Her dirty blonde hair was smoothed back into a ponytail, and the only makeup she appeared to be wearing was some mascara accenting her bright blue eyes. Her face was a little on the plain side, but she wasn’t bad looking, and Whitney admired her ability to pull off the no makeup look.

“Jamie Hughes,” she said, and extended her hand to Elise.

“Elise Young. And this is Whitney. Whitney…?” Elise looked quizzically at Whitney.

“Whitney Morris,” Whitney said, and shook Jamie’s hand. Apparently you were supposed to give your full name when introducing yourself here.

“Right,” Elise said. “Whitney’s from Texas, but she doesn’t know any cowboys.” Elise made a pouty face and Jamie laughed.

“I’ve been to Texas a few times, for work. Mostly Houston. It’s not too bad of a state, just so damn hot.”

“What kind of work were you doing?”

“I was part of a project to fund educational grants for victims of Hurricane Katrina. It’s why I decided to go to law school. So many of the families applying for grants needed legal assistance with
so many
things.” Jamie’s blue eyes darkened.
“It’s not fair how much money you need in this country just to get things taken care of properly.”

“Uh-oh, have I met the first bleeding heart liberal of my law school career?” Elise laughed and playfully punched Jamie, who rolled her eyes but did not seem genuinely annoyed.

“Let me guess, you’re gunning for a big firm job?”

“Guilty as charged, your Honor,” said Elise, then winked at Whitney and poked her in the ribs. Whitney winced, more because she was dreading being asked about her background again than because the poke actually hurt. Before anyone could ask her any more questions, however, their conversation was cut short as the law school’s Dean took the stage.

The Dean looked shorter in person than he appeared in Northwestern’s glossy brochures, but when he spoke, his booming voice made him seem taller.

“Ladies and Gentleman, future colleagues, future movers and shakers of your generation: welcome to the beginning of your life in the law. Most of you have already achieved great success in your careers before law school. You have proven yourselves across many different professions and in many different countries. You have already begun making your mark on this world. Let me assure you, however, that the best is yet to come. Over the next three years, you will learn from some of the brightest, most accomplished minds in the legal world today. You will sit in classrooms with professors who have walked the halls of Congress, and who have helped draft constitutions in other countries. You will learn from men and women who have saved their corporate clients millions, and from men and women who have saved their death row clients’ lives.”

Whitney felt simultaneously annoyed and awestruck. The speech felt overhyped, but she still felt her heart swell with pride at the thought that
she
was joining the ranks of such an accomplished group of people. She felt a burst of confidence and excitement as the Dean continued listing the impressive accomplishments of Northwestern Law’s alumni. Her future classmates looked mostly bored by the lofty speech, although here and there a particularly eager-looking individual would be nodding furiously, eating up the Dean’s words.

“Although you have all been brought here by different dreams and goals, at the end of these three years you will share one common achievement: a Juris Doctorate degree from this prestigious institution. Welcome to the start of something great.”