“What’s the timeline here? Is your plan to finish the year or just the semester?” Dad asked through his teeth, a sign he was attempting to maintain self-control.
“Well…”
“You already dropped out, didn’t you?” I mimicked Mom’s head shaking. “Wow.”
“Hey, I wanted to tell you guys the other day, but Dana texted me that she had these unbreakable plans, and—”
“Whoa, whoa!” I held my hands out at the glare my parents had shifted to me in eerily precise unison. “Tell, she saidtell, which means she’d already done it. The other night was going to be her notification of an already occurred event, right?” I looked at Selena for confirmation. “When precisely did you drop out?”
“It’s not dropping out if—”
“Before or after you were going to tell us? It’s a simple question.”
“I don’t really see how that matters.” Except she totally did, based on the wobbly quality of her voice. “I withdrew my enrollment last week.”
“Oh, okay,” Mom said, in a too-normal voice. She shrugged in Dad’s direction, then turned back to Selena. “I mean, you’re going back, of course, but I’m thrilled to know Gavin is so connected. Good for him.” And with that, she strode into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Who else is hungry?”
Selena stood agape for maybe half a second before following her. A minute later, Mom was yelling in Spanish and Selena was yelling back in a mix of both Spanish and English, the whole thing punctuated by banging pots and slammed cabinet doors. Dad and I were left alone to listen from the living room.
“Did you know?” he asked.
“—how will I know if I don’t at least try!”
“About her dream to become the next Taylor Swift? No.” But I had to give it to her for timing. Mom and Dad were both still spent from fighting all afternoon with me. I hoped she knew how easy she was getting it.
“—try after college. What’s two more years?”
“Aren’t you going to wade in?” I asked, inclining my head toward the kitchen.
“—everything! I’m ready now.”
Dad shook his head. “They can yell tonight—we’ll talk in the morning. Your mom is better with her anyway.”
“Oh, no, you’re not!”
The implication being that he was better with me. Maybe that was true, once. He and Selena got on well enough when things were going well—which they almost always were with Selena—but whenever they butted heads, it was Mom who intervened. I guessed it was more often the opposite with me. I’d never really thought about that before.
“—the big deal if I use a stage name?”
“It was a good game tonight. You played well.”
My skin itched at Dad’s compliment. I would have loved hearing it even a week ago. “Yeah.” But a week ago I didn’t know about Brandon.
“—you’d spit directly on your grandmother’s grave?”
“Did you ever wish you’d had a son instead of two daughters?” I started at my own question. Between Mom and Selena arguing in the kitchen, the exhaustion from my own earlier fighting and the game, the filter that had been blocking questions like those failed.
“—you say that when you don’t even know him!”
“Instead of you and Selena? Never.” He didn’t pause before answering, which told me everything and nothing.
“—he your boyfriend?”
“Not instead, then—in addition to.”
“—and Dad met at this age, and you’re still together!”
“I’m happy with the family I have.” Then after a particularly loud bang, he added, “Most of the time.”
