“Keep forgetting about rent,” he mumbled as a scooter whizzed down the alley beneath the patio. “Not used to paying for that. Maybe you could get a roommate? One of your old friends from your charter school?”
“They’re all living in dorms, Dad. They were achievers, remember? Some are going to college in other states.”
“Right. And it’s really too late for you to get accepted into any of the nearby schools you wanted to go to? Not UCLA, but Cal State? Even if Mad Dog helped put in a good word?”
“By about six months,” I said, thinking of how Fen got Eddie kicked out of school. It made me smile a little… until it didn’t. Anyway, I didn’t want to get into with Dad about how that kind of thing wasn’t just frowned on, it was a crime. Dad didn’t go to college. This was all foreign to him. “It’s okay. Lots of people start in community college. Even famous people.” That would make him feel better. “Plus, it’s tons cheaper, so financial aid might cover the tuition. Looks like most of them have open registration until the end of August.”
“Only decent community colleges I know are in the Valley,” he said, gritting his teeth. “So far away…”
“It’s half an hour.”
“On the 101. Maybe there’s one closer. What are you going to study?”
“Just going to take some general classes that I know for sure will transfer to any university. Then I’m going to figure it out as I go. Talk to a school advisor or professors—other students. See what floats my boat.”
He nodded. “Okay. But how are you going to take classes and work full-time?”
AHH! I held my head in my hands. “I don’t know, okay? But I’ve got a little money in my checking account from what I earned at Mad Dog’s, and what does anyone else do?”
I was starting to think I’d made the mistake of the century. There were too many moving pieces to this puzzle, and I still couldn’t get my head around the fact that everything in my life was gone.
The Sarafians.
The lake.
Mad Dog.
Velvet.
Exie and Norma… the only family I’d ever really known.
Frida.
Funny that losing such a tiny dog could hurt so badly. How did I let myself get attached to her? She wasn’t even mine. I had a hard time sleeping without her the first few nights. I still looked around and expected her to be wagging at my ankles… still listened for her bark. When we left the lake that night, I keptCaptain Pickles with me out of grief. But then I got worried she would be upset without it, so I overnighted it. When I walked in with it and asked for a box, the woman at the FedEx store looked at me as if it was the strangest request she’d ever had.
As for Fen?
Well.
I couldn’t bear to think about him for too long. Especially not during the day. I only allowed myself to completely let my mind fill with Fen-size memories at night when I was listening to music, trying to sleep. That’s when I let myself be completely miserable.
In the day, I held myself together and pretended for my dad that I was strong and that everything was a-okay. Daytime was deadtime.
Day and night. A repeating cycle of self-pity and self-punishment. Super healthy. There was probably a better way, and I’d figure it out eventually.
I just hoped Fen was doing better than I was.
A heavy sigh escaped my father as he got up and shuffled to the other side of the balcony, leaning over the railing to watch people heading down to the beach for the afternoon. “Jane, I want you to know that I am behind you. If this is what you want, then we’ll make it happen. You realize you haven’t lost any words since you asked me to drive you back to L.A.?”
Huh. I guess I hadn’t.
Then again, I hadn’t been struggling with my word-pixie as much since I’d been seeing Fen. Maybe facing my ghosts clearedout some neural pathways. At the very least, it helped me conquer some stress and gain confidence.
“Your mother never went to school,” he said. “I don’t think she’d care much about the degree, but she was strong-willed, and she’d like you doing this. But there will always be a part of me that needs to watch out for you, and I think what may be worse is losing you altogether. So can we agree that if you do this, we’ll make time to see each other?”
“Dad,” I told him. “Seriously. It would be here in the metro area.”
“You’d be surprised. Relationships have died on these freeways.”
