“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I don’t know exactly what yoursituation is, but you’re not the first student to sit across from me this year already crumpling under the weight of their parents’ expectations.”
“That’s exactly how it feels,” I said. “Sometimes I can hardly breathe.”
Ms. Alvarez reached over and took my hand in hers. “It’s a big step, and I’m proud of you.” She cocked her head. “They don’t tell you that, do they?”
I shook my head, blinking away tears.
My teacher gave my hand a final pat. “You’d better get to your next class. I’ll take care of this and let you know when I hear back.”
I let out a shaky sigh and got to my feet. “Holy crap. It’s real, isn’t it? I’m really doing this?”
Ms. Alvarez smiled. “It’s scary to break free of all that’s familiar—and financially secure—and jump into the unknown. You’re a brave girl, Emery. Don’t forget that.”
“I’ll try not to.”
But as soon as I got back home—into the tense, suffocating dome of my house—all my bravado fled.
Holy shit, what have I done?
At the dinner table, I could hardly move, paralyzed by fear. Any second now, my father would look at my face and see the defiance painted all over it.
“So, Emery,” he said. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”
I swallowed hard. “Nope, nothing.”
“We’ll be formalizing your application to Brown soon.” He salted his mashed potatoes. “I presume your tutoring sessions are going well. No surprises?”
I nearly dropped my fork. “Um, no. No surprises.”
“Good. Given how often you spend tutoring with that boy, not to mention the cost, I expect straight As.”
“Yes,” I said stupidly, my brain in panic mode. “In fact, I have homework I should get a jump on. May I be excused?”
My father frowned. “I suppose so.”
I practically ran up to my room. Safely inside, I sat on my four-poster bed and grabbed my sketchpad to take refuge in my art. The first prom committee meeting was coming up, and I wanted to get a jump on the theme. To make it beautiful. To show my dad what I could do. That way, I wouldn’t have to run all the way to California, and Dad would never have to know that I’d made an escape plan.
You think your dad’s suddenly going to become impressed with your art and let you walk away from his plans?
“Maybe he will,” I said in a small voice. I hated how my courage drained out the second I stepped foot in my house. I wanted to feel how I felt when I was with Xander. How life felt open and full of possibilities, instead of cold and shuttered.
“So make it real.”
I picked up my phone and texted him.
I applied to UCLA.
Xander’s reply came a moment later.You did?
I did. I have no way of paying for it, but it felt nice to try. Even a little.
No reply.
It’s all your fault, really,I sent after a minute.All that talk about escape velocity…;-)
Nothing.
The hopeful buoyancy deflated out of me, and I tried not to feel as hurt as I did. “Okay, good talk.”
