more like Jenna in the future,” I say dryly, but Mom’s too busy scrolling on her iPad and forking lettuce into her mouth like a robot to notice my attitude. When Dad’s away, she might as well be married to that iPad.
The loneliness gives me an idea. “Mom? Can I get a dog?”
She looks up from her screen. “Why?”
“For company. I miss Oscar—”
“Who is Oscar?”
“The dog at Card House. Can I please get one?”
“It would mess up the carpets.”
Spoken like a person who has never had a dog and doesn’t understand the happiness they bring to your life.
Mom adds, “Besides, you should be thinking about what you did wrong.”
How could I forget?
My phone buzzes, and I sigh when I see his name flash across the screen. Right before I left campus for the last time, I broke up with him by text, but he won’t stop calling.
“Who’s that?” Mom asks, staring at my phone.
“Ben,” I mumble.
“That boy is not good enough for you,” she says.
It’s true. He’s not good enough for me, but not for the reasons my parents think. Mom never approved of Ben because he’s a scholarship kid. Dad didn’t mind that my ex-boyfriend isn’t well off, but ever since Ben asked about internship opportunities in my father’s Chattanooga office, he hasn’t been a fan. Dad thought Ben was using me to get ahead.
I don’t approve because I tried to help him—and he abandoned me when shit hit the fan.
Mom goes back to scrolling on her iPad. My phone buzzes again. I turn it to silent so I don’t have to listen to more texts coming in. Madison complaining that soccer practice sucked this afternoon without me on offense. Steph telling me how Madison has changed her clothes four times since classes ended today, trying to figure out what to wear when she hangs out tonight with Chris, this guy she likes. Every other text is about how angry they are St. Andrew’s kicked me out. I miss my friends…
Ben’s texts are always the same: Tee, please call me back. Please.
I told him it was over, and now he wants to explain. To work things out.
Well, fuck that.
I text him back: We were over the minute you didn’t help me like I helped you!!
He does not respond. Which is heartbreaking, but not surprising. If he admits the truth, he’ll get kicked out of school and he’d lose his scholarship and probably his future along with it. Getting admitted to St. Andrew’s was his big break in life. His chance to rise above his poor upbringing.
But what about me? I could turn him in, but I don’t betray the people I love. Loved? Love. Ugh. Like I said, it’s complicated.
I pick up my dinner plate to take it to the sink to rinse. At Card House, we all took turns doing the dishes. I’ve always enjoyed it, to tell you the truth. Swipe left, swipe right, round and round and round. The repetitive motion, like running, helps me let go of my worries and relax.
After I’m finished, I’m not sure how to spend the rest of my night. Write an essay for Yale about why they should be thrilled to admit a liar to walk their hallowed halls?
With a sigh, I go to my room and lie down on my bed. It’s cold and empty without Oscar’s warm body curled up against my side. The dog must be wondering where I went. Will he eventually forget I was ever there?
I gaze around the room at the stylish yellow and gray walls with pink accents. I haven’t unpacked my boxes from St. Andrew’s yet. I have no pictures of friends. I haven’t yet displayed the artwork and knickknacks I picked up at museums all over the world. Other than some dirty clothes scattered on the floor, it’s like I’m in a guest room at a B&B.
It’s like I’m a guest in somebody else’s life.
• • •
Before day two at my new school, my phone lights up as I’m sitting at my vanity, drying my long, amber-colored hair.
I set down my hair dryer and answer it. “What’s up?”
“Thought I’d check in before I head to class in a few,” Oliver replies.
“You
The loneliness gives me an idea. “Mom? Can I get a dog?”
She looks up from her screen. “Why?”
“For company. I miss Oscar—”
“Who is Oscar?”
“The dog at Card House. Can I please get one?”
“It would mess up the carpets.”
Spoken like a person who has never had a dog and doesn’t understand the happiness they bring to your life.
Mom adds, “Besides, you should be thinking about what you did wrong.”
How could I forget?
My phone buzzes, and I sigh when I see his name flash across the screen. Right before I left campus for the last time, I broke up with him by text, but he won’t stop calling.
“Who’s that?” Mom asks, staring at my phone.
“Ben,” I mumble.
“That boy is not good enough for you,” she says.
It’s true. He’s not good enough for me, but not for the reasons my parents think. Mom never approved of Ben because he’s a scholarship kid. Dad didn’t mind that my ex-boyfriend isn’t well off, but ever since Ben asked about internship opportunities in my father’s Chattanooga office, he hasn’t been a fan. Dad thought Ben was using me to get ahead.
I don’t approve because I tried to help him—and he abandoned me when shit hit the fan.
Mom goes back to scrolling on her iPad. My phone buzzes again. I turn it to silent so I don’t have to listen to more texts coming in. Madison complaining that soccer practice sucked this afternoon without me on offense. Steph telling me how Madison has changed her clothes four times since classes ended today, trying to figure out what to wear when she hangs out tonight with Chris, this guy she likes. Every other text is about how angry they are St. Andrew’s kicked me out. I miss my friends…
Ben’s texts are always the same: Tee, please call me back. Please.
I told him it was over, and now he wants to explain. To work things out.
Well, fuck that.
I text him back: We were over the minute you didn’t help me like I helped you!!
He does not respond. Which is heartbreaking, but not surprising. If he admits the truth, he’ll get kicked out of school and he’d lose his scholarship and probably his future along with it. Getting admitted to St. Andrew’s was his big break in life. His chance to rise above his poor upbringing.
But what about me? I could turn him in, but I don’t betray the people I love. Loved? Love. Ugh. Like I said, it’s complicated.
I pick up my dinner plate to take it to the sink to rinse. At Card House, we all took turns doing the dishes. I’ve always enjoyed it, to tell you the truth. Swipe left, swipe right, round and round and round. The repetitive motion, like running, helps me let go of my worries and relax.
After I’m finished, I’m not sure how to spend the rest of my night. Write an essay for Yale about why they should be thrilled to admit a liar to walk their hallowed halls?
With a sigh, I go to my room and lie down on my bed. It’s cold and empty without Oscar’s warm body curled up against my side. The dog must be wondering where I went. Will he eventually forget I was ever there?
I gaze around the room at the stylish yellow and gray walls with pink accents. I haven’t unpacked my boxes from St. Andrew’s yet. I have no pictures of friends. I haven’t yet displayed the artwork and knickknacks I picked up at museums all over the world. Other than some dirty clothes scattered on the floor, it’s like I’m in a guest room at a B&B.
It’s like I’m a guest in somebody else’s life.
• • •
Before day two at my new school, my phone lights up as I’m sitting at my vanity, drying my long, amber-colored hair.
I set down my hair dryer and answer it. “What’s up?”
“Thought I’d check in before I head to class in a few,” Oliver replies.
“You
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