“Everything okay?” I ask.
She sighs. “Yeah, it’s just my parents. I’ve been putting off talking to them. I’d better take this, sorry.”
“It’s okay, go ahead.”
I wonder why she’s been putting off talking to them. I’ve never met them, but I know they work a lot in high-stress jobs. They’re super successful lawyers who always seem to be busy.
“Hey, Dad.” I notice her light, happy tone from earlier is gone. Her voice is softer, more serious now.
I turn onto her street and pull into one of the free spaces in front of her apartment building.
“No, I didn’t get the internship.”
I notice her shoulders sink, and she’s gnawing at her bottom lip like she’s nervous.
She’s quiet for a while as she listens to whatever her dad is saying to her on the other line.
After a minute, she closes her eyes and leans back against the headrest, like she’s suddenly exhausted.
“Yes, Dad. I know…well, it was a really competitive applicant pool. You know that.”
She opens her mouth to say more, but then snaps it shut. She purses her lips like she’s annoyed.
“I’ve heard this a million times from you….Yes, I know how important a good internship is for getting into law school…Yes,I’m working hard to make up for that deficiency. I’m always working hard.”
Deficiency? That’s not a word I would ever use to describe anything that Poppy does. What is her dad going on about? Wait, is he mad that she didn’t get that internship?
“Well, I think I’ll be a strong candidate for Stanford Law School.”
There’s a tired tone to her voice, like she’s sick of fighting about this. Like she’s fought a million times about this before with her dad.
“My GPA is high, and I’ve been studying really hard for the LSAT…No, I’m not stupid, Dad…” Poppy trails off.
My brow hits my hairline. Did he just call her stupid?
I clench my jaw, annoyed. Poppy’s the smartest person I know. She gets perfect grades and spends all of her time studying and working at the Writing Center. I’d bet anything she’ll kick ass on the LSAT when she takes it. And I’d bet anything that she’ll get into Stanford when she applies, too.
She huffs out a heavy breath. “Well, I don’t think it’s pointless, Dad…The work that I do at the Writing Center is really fulfilling for me. So is my volunteer work…”
She closes her eyes again and lets out another defeated sigh.
The urge to grab the phone out of her hand and go off on her dad takes hold. What the hell is this guy’s problem? Does he not realize how brilliant his daughter is?
“Fine. I’ll do it after fall break,” she says. She stares straight ahead, the look in her eyes almost detached. “Okay, bye.”
She hangs up. She blinks, her eyes teary. “Sorry about that,” she says in a weak voice.
A protective feeling surges through me, seeing her struggling not to cry.
“What was that about?” I ask.
She tugs at the hem of her sweater, her gaze glued to her lap. “Just my dad. He’s upset that I didn’t get that internship.”
“So he went off on you? That’s messed up.”
She shrugs again and sniffles, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “That’s my dad. He expects only the best from me.”
A tight pain shoots through my chest. I don’t like seeing her so sad and defeated.
