“Clearly.”
“Is itkick Sara while she’s downweek?”
“You don’t let anyone get close enough to kick. Or offer a hand up, either.” He stepped around me and jogged away. A minute later, his truck growled to life and roared down the street.
Wow, the troubles just never ended. My brother gone. My parents leaving. My friends alienated. And my future in chaos.
How many of those problems could I wish away?
I couldn’t put off telling my folks any longer, so I texted them to say that I wanted to discuss college over lunch. After picking up Moroccan takeout, I drove to Harley House. When I arrived in the upstairs apartment, my parents were sitting at the table.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom said.
“Hey.” I set the bag down and watched as Dad organized the food containers.
As we served ourselves, I waited silently, getting more nervous with each moment.
“Your dad said you got a letter from Piedmont last Friday. Does that mean you received a dorm assignment?”
I finished my first yummy mouthful before answering. “I don’t need one. I’m not attending Piedmont.”
Mom gasped.
Dad set his coffee mug down with care. “Why not?”
“The letter informed me that I’m on probation. Until I make a C or better in French III, I can’t be a full student.”
“But you can make up the credit. Right?”
“I can, and I will one day.” I hitched forward, feeling a deeper sense of excitement than I had in a long time. “I’ve decided to rethink what I really want. I know for sure it’s not Piedmont.”
Mom frowned across the table at me. “You’ve known this for a week?”
“Five days.” Which was true. I wouldn’t bring up the first letter.
“When were you going to tell us?”
“Today. I spent yesterday exploring alternatives.”
“Have you already picked one, without even letting us know what was going on?”
“Daphne.” Dad gave my mom a pointed look. “Let Sara finish.”
“You’re right, Mom. I should’ve told you earlier, but it was nice to just think about it and let myself figure out the best solution.”
“The house won’t be available for much longer.”
“I know, and I’ll get this solved before that’s an issue.”
“Do you want to go to college at all?”
“Yes, I’m positive about that.” I paused, not wanting to mention options like Newman College until they were closer to being a reality. “I’ll go to MCC this fall if nothing else works out.”
My dad was staring at his plate. Mom bit her lip, blinking rapidly.
“It’s okay,” I said, my voice shaking a little. They saw this as another Sara screw-up. Another example that I hadn’t recovered. And they were right. I hadn’t. None of us had. But I didn’t regret what had happened, even though I couldn’t make them understand. At least, not yet. “I’ll fix this. Promise.”
I went two days without asking for a wish. On Thursday afternoon, Grant sought me out and suggested that he assess my weight-lifting technique. An hour later, I was grumpy and sore, and Grant had gone, retired for the night.
