For Kipp Mueller and Jillian Rich, classmates at C.K. McClatchy High School, years of cramming for tests, taking college-prep courses and logging time as student leaders had come to this moment at 7:20 p.m. Tuesday.

The two seniors were perched in front of a computer in Kipp's small bedroom, ready to log on, type in a password and find out if the University of California, Berkeley, wanted them.

Kipp, 18, was confident he'd get in, especially because UCLA - considered these days to be even tougher to get into than Berkeley - had already said yes. His perfect 800 on the math portion of the SAT would be hard for admissions officers to ignore.

But 17-year-old Jillian, also accepted at UCLA, wasn't so certain about her chances. She was just as nervous for another friend, whose heart was really set on Berkeley.

"I just never believed that Berkeley would be a guarantee," Jillian said. "I've known of some great students last year who didn't get in. It could happen to me, too."

This season, as high school seniors anxiously await their college fate, competition for a slot at a University of California campus is at its fiercest.

Nearly 74,000 would-be freshmen applied to at least one of the system's eight undergraduate campuses. The average grade-point average was an impressive 3.66; the median SAT score a solid 1171 out of a possible 1600. Among Berkeley and UCLA applicants, the numbers were even higher.

Of the nearly 43,000 high school seniors who applied to UCLA, only a select few - Kipp and Jillian among them - received admission offers last week that read, "Congratulations, you are among 3,900... ."

For the third year, admissions decisions were made on far more than academic achievement. UC officials looked for students who stood out also for their leadership or success in spite of being poor, holding down jobs or attending a lousy high school.

Compounding the pressure is California's budget crisis, which is forcing UC officials to shrink this fall's freshman class by at least 3,200 students. For the first time, slots at the less sought-after campuses in Riverside and Santa Cruz won't be a guaranteed back-up.

"It's been the toughest year I've seen since I started this (eight years ago)," said Margie Amott, a private college adviser in Sacramento. "The ones who seem to be getting lost are those with a (GPA for required UC courses) of 3.4 to 3.7. These are solid students. They are not getting into Santa Barbara and UC Davis; forget about Berkeley and UCLA."

The still-unfolding dispute over the fairness of UC admissions - sparked by UC Regent John Moores' study that showed more than 3,000 students with SAT scores of 1400 or greater were rejected by Berkeley in 2002 - rattled some applicants' nerves, too.

Would stellar grades, high test scores, and a slew of extracurricular activities be enough to propel them into UC, especially Berkeley?

Jillian, a soccer player and student body vice president, knew all this even as she decided to gamble on just three schools, all UCs: Berkeley, Los Angeles and Davis. The daughter of a retired UPS driver and a coordinator at Natomas Charter School, Jillian would be the first in her family to go to UC.

"For me, it was always going to be public, and I really wanted a UC," said Jillian, whose mother, brother and sister graduated from California State University, Sacramento.

Kipp, president of McClatchy's popular Jewish community service organization and chairman of the Sacramento City Youth Commission, cast a wider net. Besides five UC campuses, he sent applications to highly selective private schools: Stanford, Harvard, Yale, Duke, Williams, Pomona and Claremont McKenna.

He'd gotten a polite rejection from Stanford on Tuesday, just hours before he'd learn his fate at Berkeley.

"It's OK," he said. "I decided Stanford wasn't going to be my top pick anyway. I'm really focused on Berkeley now."

So have several of his classmates in McClatchy's rigorous honors program - the Humanities and International Studies Program, or HISP. Berkeley, which did not announce how many were being admitted, was the last of the UC campuses to tell students their fate.

"The kids are really tense right now," said Gail Zimmerman, co-director of HISP, before students were notified. "Berkeley is always a big deal, even for the kids who'd rather go somewhere else. It's like if you get into Berkeley, you're hot."

Jillian said the tension really started more than two weeks ago - March 12 to be exact - when UCLA began posting its decisions online in the middle of the day. "People were lined up at the school computers to find out; they didn't want to wait until they got home," she said. "It was easy to read people's expressions and find out what answer they got."

For Berkeley, the answers would come in a more private setting.

At precisely 7:20 Tuesday night, Kipp, with good friend Jillian at his side, typed in his seven-digit identification number and four-letter password.

"Yes," said a grinning Kipp, as he scanned the short congratulatory message. "Awesome. I'm happier than I thought I'd be."

An anxious Jillian had to wait, stuck in the traffic of more than 36,000 Berkeley hopefuls clogging the Web site. It was a few minutes before the bright yellow screen with photos of Berkeley's Sather Gate and Sproul Plaza popped up.

A gleeful Jillian hugged Kipp, dialed her cell phone, waited a few seconds and uttered four magic words.

"Mom, I got in."