“Sorry, man,” Kenton said. I nodded.
“Oh, Ryder, I’m sorry,” Pam said as she hugged me. Again, I nodded because, really, what the fuck else could I do?
“Thanks.”
“When does the semester start at Lancaster Community College?” Roger asked. I hated how that question sounded. It made it sound as though I was for sure going there. Which I probably was, but I despised how it sounded.
“I’m not sure. I’ll find out,” I managed to reply without sounding as irritated as I was.
“Good to hear. Because now that you’re eighteen?—”
“I know, I know.”
“What is it that you know?” Roger firmly asked me.
“I know that since I’m eighteen, your responsibility to care for me and give me a place to stay doesn’t have to continue.”
I glanced at my brothers. The looks on their faces were enough to know that everyone had heard Roger preach this over the years. They were probably a bit scared to find out what would happen now that I was eighteen. Because it would probably end up being their future too.
“As long as you’re going to college, you’ll be welcome to stay,” Roger calmly reiterated. He looked at my brothers, who all hung on his words. “All of you are welcome to stay as long as you’re in school.”
“What if…what if I can’t go to college?” Zack asked hesitantly.
“You can go to college, Zack,” Pam piped in.
“And you will,” Roger said.
“How? I’m not nearly as smart as Ryder is. None of us are. If he can’t get into universities, how are we supposed to?”
“Ryder tried to get into schools that he had no business trying for.” Roger laughed as he grabbed a roll off the plate. “It’d be like me trying to get financing for a Ferrari.”
He was such a dick.
“Ryder did get accepted to Lancaster Community College, and he would have been accepted at any community college that he wanted to attend,” Pam said.
Only, I didn’t want to settle.
I looked at Robbie when he spoke up and said, “Hey, Ryd, the website for Lancaster says that classes start in two weeks.”
My mouth formed a tight line, and I forced it to smile. Robbie thought he was being helpful, but really it was as though he was telling me when I should show up for my execution.
“Good,” Roger said before he brought the can of beer up to his mouth. “You’ve got two weeks to get yourself registered for classes and get things arranged with your work schedule,” he added.
I just nodded, because lunging at him and punching him in the face seemed like a poor decision on my part.
While things settled down and everyone sat at the table to eat, I announced that I wasn’t hungry and headed to my room. Well, at least it was still my room for a while. As soon as I closed the bedroom door, I went to my desk and flopped down in the chair.
What the fuck do I do now?
Overwhelmed with anger and the urge to punch something, I balled up the rejection letter and threw it as hard as I could against the corkboard above my desk. It ricocheted off the desk lamp and landed on top of the black envelope for OmniaAcademy. I knocked the wadded-up letter from USC onto the floor and moved from the chair to my bed. I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes.
Being a valedictorian did absolutely nothing for me. Having great attendance, volunteering, and participating in community events all meant nothing.
This was just another example of being good, but not good enough. All the shit they feed you in high school is pure garbage. I bought into their rehearsed lines about how good study skills and grades would help you get into a good university. I gulped the Kool-Aid they gave me by the glassful about how volunteering and being an active member of the community would look good on college applications.
Good, but not good enough.
I rolled onto my back and stared at one of the dusty blades of the ceiling fan.
