“Considering I’m doing most of the work.” He holds up the leading reins. “Yes.”
“Well, considering I don’t have a natural talent for this sort of thing, I’ll allow it.”
A silence stretches between us. The breeze shifts. Whiskers releases a huffy breath, then whinnies, startling me. I try to settle back into the rhythm as a bird chirps somewhere in the distance.
“Is it important to you,” he begins, “to have a natural talent?”
Is it? There was never a time when Jared wasn’t exceeding, and Mads seemed like she was born with every single acting bone in her body. I wasn’t going to win any Pulitzers if I stuck to journalism, which was Analiese’s thing anyway. Science fair was almost like an extension of schoolwork, pushed onto me by parents who wanted to see me shine. But when I thought about it, premed never felt like me. And if I couldn’t practice the tuba and get better at it, then what was I going to do if I went through the hoopla of premed requirements and discovered I couldn’t master it?
So I say, “Maybe.”
“You know what I think,” he says after a while. “You’re scared to try.”
I stiffen. “Excuse me?”
“You’re scared to try something new, even if it’s harmless. Because what if you’re no good?” William blinks up at me. “Am I wrong?”
The furious part of my brain wants to come to my owndefense.Of courseI try. That’s all I’ve done since coming to Ivernia. Jared set the bar high. If I make a wrong decision, my potential becomes wasted.
And then William’s words from our ballroom lessons snag in my brain.
Trust yourself.
I don’t. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s alwaysbeenthe problem. I’ve never stuck to trying anything for myself because I’ve been too afraid it’ll end up in failure. I don’t trust that I can go after something I’m passionate about and succeed.
Once we circle around to the stable, William helps me down and we return Whiskers to his newly cleaned stall. He fills the trough with feed and reseals the bag, parting ways with a cheery pat along his neck.
We’re silent as we navigate the trail back to campus, but my thoughts are loud. My hesitation to go after what I want has existed since the beginning of the year. And when Ididdo something for myself, like playing my part in Capture, I got in trouble. Yet—I hadn’t given that up, had I? I’m still in the game, still part of the team. But that’s low stakes compared to choosing a university. Choosing a career path—no, alifepath.
For the first time, I wonder if Mrs.Vidar-Tett is right. All these years I’ve been too scared to really listen to myself, certain everyone else knew how to better manage my decisions. And when you’re an amalgamation of everyone else’s opinions and counsel, then can you even truly know yourself? Trust yourself?
Dense clouds thicken the air around us, and my palms begin to feel sticky with moisture as we reach campus. Minutes later, a misty drizzle exhales a dampening sigh. We’re doused in seconds.
William nods toward the athletic center. “This way.”
We jog the outer loop and find shelter beneath the overhang just as it starts to pour. A distant rumble sounds. Wet drops ping and splatter against the protective covering above us. When I try to scan us into the building, the device blinks red. I forgot they lock it over the weekend for anyone who isn’t actively participating in a sport.
“We can wait it out,” he says, wiping moisture from along his jaw.
I lean against the glass door. “I can’t believe you’re shoveling horse poop for money.”
William quirks a brow. “Because it seems beneath me?” He folds his arms over his chest, but his expression remains lighthearted. “I do recall somebody telling me I need to do things for myself instead of relying on attendants. Or—how did you put it?Remove yourself from your bloody high horse.”
“I didn’t saybloody”—I emphasize his accent, grinning—“for the record.”
He sinks into a seated position. I join him on the hard cement.
“It was needed. Self-reliance is an important trait, and I admit even I found my odious character a bit off-putting upon some reflection.”
“You’re forgiven, considering we’ve yet to understand howyou’ve broken the barriers of space-time to arrive”—I press my pointer finger on the top of his kneecap—“here.”
William follows my movement. “I apologize if I upset you earlier. I don’t mean to be so forward.”
I collect my hands in my lap. “We’re similar, I think,” I say, staring out into the rain. “You want to do right by your family. I do, too. They’ve always known what’s best for me. There’s a comfort in that, I think. Like a safety net. If I listen to them, I won’t mess my life up too badly.”
“I understand,” he says quietly. “More than you may believe.”
We let that hang there. The rain continues to pick up in a low, hushedwhoosh.
