I type back a thoughtful reply. I have no idea how long it takes for me to complete the whole email, because time ceases to matter when I’m speaking to Océane. All I know is that every single word matters. She’s on the verge of a precipice, of completely giving up, and saying the right thing is my only line of defense to keep her from tumbling down.
I validate her feelings and try not to let the seething anger at my parents cloud my judgement.
Why the fuck are they like this with her? How dare they?
My parents were never perfect with me and Will—they were demanding and prone to screaming when angry—but at least, they were on our team. If a teacher had dared to bully us likeMiss Tracey is bullying Océane, they would have rallied against them, not resting until we had justice.
I don’t understand why they don’t believe her. She needs to see a doctor, not get berated.
Just as I hit send, the door of the apartment opens.
I look at Karan in surprise.
“Home already?”
“What do you mean, already?” He shuts the door behind him. “It’s pretty late. You’ve been gone two hours already.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t realize how long I spent ruminating on Océane’s email and typing back my reply.
But now that’s dealt with, and I can think about how shitty my parents are being later. Because Karan’s smile is splitting his face in half.
“How did it go?” I pat the futon next to me.
Karan sets his backpack down next to the door and joins me on the futon. “So, um… Ubisoft offered me a job.”He rubs his hand through his beard.
“Holy shit!” I jump from the futon and hop up and down, fully aware that the downstairs neighbors are going to hate my guts. “Karan, that’s amazing!”
A wild look glitters in his eyes. “I know. I’m not going to take it.”
I pause and blink. “You’re not… what?”
Maybe I heard him wrong.
Karan stands and clasps my shoulders. “I’ve got an awesome opportunity here. The other guys from the team also got an offer, but they’re not taking it. We talked a bit after the event, and we want to expand on this project and start our own studio.”
My chest tightens. I should be happy about this. Their prototype really is awesome, and with a lot of time and hardwork, I could see this becoming something that’s successful on the market.
But…
“What’s wrong?” Karan asks. His thumb strokes the side of my shoulder.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit… risky?” I bite my lip.
“I mean, yeah, a bit. But there are programs to help us get started.”
He spouts off about a provincial government assistance program that pays new creative business founders a minimum wage, as well as other funds they can apply for.
It’s all making me sick.
“We talked about this,” I whisper. “I won’t be able to work as many hours once I start grad school. There’s no way we can make ends meet if you’re stuck on minimum wage. And that’s only for a year… what happens if you guys don’t get funding by then?”
“We could take contract work. I’ve talked to other indie studio owners who do that.”
“Yeah, but…” I place a hand on his chest, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach.
I hate to do this to him, but this move makes no sense. Not this early, at least.
