“The drive to Austin,” I say. “It’s seven hours. I’m driving to Austin with Callie to protest the decision from the broadcast journalism camp.”
Mom takes a step closer to me. “Oh, honey, we’ve already talked about this. You’re going back to Daisy Ranch.” She looks to my dad for backup. “This is the summer. I can feel it. Isn’t that right, Todd?”
But my dad says nothing. He won’t even make eye contact with her.
I brace myself. “I’m going,” I tell her. “I can’t live with myself if I don’t at least try.”
She takes another step closer, and this time she puts an arm around me, but my shoulders are stiff and unforgiving. “My Millie, my sweet Millie. They passed on youraudition tape. They said no for a reason.”
I take a step back, out of her reach. “Then I at least deserve to know why.”
Her expression hardens. “I forbid this,” she says. “I forbid you from driving to Austin with that girl—the same girl who destroyed your uncle’s place of business—in the middle of the night.”
I close my eyes. I don’t want to hurt my mom, but I don’t know how else to make her understand. “This isn’t about me,” I tell her. “That’s not why you’re trying to stop me. This is about you and trying to shape me into the person you always wanted to be. But I’m not you. I love you. But I’m not you. I can’t spend the rest of my life obsessing over diets and searching for the miracle fix.”
My mother is shocked. She looks like I just slapped her in the face with a frying pan.
“Mom,” I say. “Think of all the energy you’ve spent trying to lose weight. It’s who you are. It’s your whole identity. But it doesn’t have to be. Dad loves you. And I do too. And it’s certainly not because of your low-carb lasagna.”
Her whole face looks like she’s about to either erupt in anger or crumble entirely. “This discussion is over,” she says, overenunciating every syllable through gritted teeth. “Back inside. Your father will drive Callie home. And we will certainly have a word with her parents.”
“No.” My voice is firm. “I can’t live with the person you want me to be. Especially not when I know exactly who I want to be.”
“Millicent. Amethyst. Michalchuk,” she says through furious tears now.
“Millie,” my dad says.
I almost forgot he was there.
“You have money for gas?” he asks. “Meals?”
I nod, trying my best to conceal my absolute glee. Mom might be wrong, but there’s no use rubbing it in her face. “Yes, sir.”
“You go there. Stop if you get tired. I don’t care if you have to charge a hotel room to your emergency credit card. I want a phone call every hour. I don’t care what time it is.”
I nod, forever thankful to him for this one moment. Dad has never been the type to speak over Mom or undermine her parenting decisions, but if he’s going to step on her toes, I’m so glad he chose this moment to do so.
My mother guffaws. “Todd, you can’t be serious.”
He turns to Mom. “As serious as I was the day I married you.”
Oh, he’s definitely sleeping on the couch tonight.
I hug my dad. “Thank you,” I whisper.
My mom stands there, her lips stiffly pursed and her arms crossed.
I hug her. It’s like hugging a dang stone pillar, but I hug her. “I love you, Mom.”
She doesn’t say anything back.
I get in the van and back out of the driveway, always careful to watch my mirrors.
“Buckle up,” I tell Callie.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I wave to my parents as my dad closes the garage door. The moment they’re out of sight, I hit the gas. “Yes.” I wipe away the last of my tears. “I’m okay.”
