At least there’s always carbs and cheese.
“Enough about me,” I say. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You hear any more from those recruiters?”
“Yeah, the one from Texas.” They don’t quite meet my eyes.“We’ve been emailing back and forth some. I think I’m going to apply early decision. He thinks I can get pretty close to a full ride.”
“Oh.”
It feels like a cold stage weight dropped into my stomach.
I knew Bowie was thinking about Texas, but I always thought it was the same way I thought about UCLA: great program, but too far away from home.
Too far away from my best friend.
I thought they were picking Ohio. I thought they’d be closer to me.
But instead they’re picking Texas. With Liam.
“That’s cool,” I manage, though my fingers feel like hot dogs as I form the signs.
It never really felt real before. That we’d be splitting up.
It still doesn’t.
“Nothing’s sure yet,” they say.
It’s definitely sure. There’s nothing Bowie can’t do once they set their mind to it.
“Even if I do go, I’ll be home on breaks. And I’ll come visit you. We’ll still be best friends. College won’t change us.”
How could it not? They probably won’t even think about me, except when they come home—assuming our breaks even line up—and then we’ll have an awkward hangout where neither of us will want to admit we’ve grown apart and changed too much to really be best friends anymore.
My shells have congealed into a sticky mess, but I keep eating them anyway.
What else is there to say?
22
Amy and Dad pick me up from Bowie’s around eleven. Well, Amy picks me up, and Dad is also there. Being short like me, he’s kind of a lightweight.
When we were younger, Dad used to drag me and Jasmine to all his work parties. We’d stand around all dressed up, awkwardly interacting with a bunch of kids we didn’t know, while Dad got tipsy off a single glass of champagne and spent the night telling medical jokes with the other doctors.
Eventually Dad stopped feeling like he had to show us off, and I’m not sure if it’s because he realized he didn’t need to impress anyone, or because he realized me and Jasmine weren’t that impressive measured against a bunch of kids who were piano virtuosos or lacrosse championsor Johnson County residents.
Amy tries to talk to me while I buckle in. There’s a light drizzle falling on the windshield; the forecast for tomorrow is freezing rain, which is always miserable.
“Huh?”
“You have fun?”
I shrug. Dad’s head lolls in the passenger seat, and Amy shakes her head as she pulls away.
It’s a short drive home, and Jasmine’s car is in the driveway when we get there.
I wonder what she and Liam did tonight.
