Love's Learning Curve Read Free Page B

with the door closed.  I toss my backpack onto the bed and plop down still laughing at her as she turns to me and removes an earbud from one ear.
    “You look insane, just so you know,” I tell her, and she makes her stupid duck face in response while I mimic the face back to her.
    “How was the day in the world of Miss Perfect?  Saving the world, one failing student at a time,” she asks sarcastically.  She doesn’t approve of my volunteer work.  She thinks I need to live a little and have more fun, but I like it.
    I’ve been at the library leading a peer tutoring session with other college students for the past few hours.  As exhausted as I am from tutoring others and helping out, I now wish I’d stayed there to study on my own instead of coming back to this zoo of a place we call home.  I tell Morgan as much, but she responds with her usual eye roll since she also doesn’t approve of what she believes is my excessive need to study.  Truthfully, I probably don’t need to study as much as I do, but I’m a perfectionist.  I also have nothing more productive to do, even though Morgan considers studying a waste of time and is content with minimum effort and average grades.  She’s fully invested in college as the social experience.
     I’m not sure what I was thinking coming back here.  The mixer has been the talk of the house this past week since it’s the first huge party of the spring semester.  I’ve been through many of these primping parties despite the fact I’ve never attended one.  Most college students LIVE for parties, but I wouldn’t know anything about that since I LIVE for far different things under the strict guidelines as a presidential hopeful’s daughter.  Not many things make the list of acceptable extracurricular activities for me, and I’m confident that list does not include college parties of any sort.  My life is probably as boring as Morgan tells me, but I’m okay with it.  I could still be living under my parents’ roof, so I’ll take this boring life over that any day.
    Finally remembering her question before my thoughts ran away with me, I answer.  “It was fine.  I probably should have just stayed there, but I wasn’t expecting the girls to need four hours to prep for a party.  What kind of party is this, anyway?  What’s the big deal?  It’s just a normal gathering and not a formal, right?”  My obvious frustration filters through my voice, but actually, I’m curious to understand.
    Her eyes narrow with her matching annoyance, only she’s annoyed at my questions on the very same party topic that we’ve rehashed countless times.  “You know what, Char, I’m not going into the details with you AGAIN.  You should just come.  It’ll be fun, and you’ll enjoy yourself.”  She attempts to persuade me for the two-millionth time since we left for college two and a half years ago.  I turn away from her not wishing to once again have the discussion and list the reasons why I allow myself to be under my mother’s thumb when she’s over two hours away from us and would never know.  Despite the distance between my mother and me, breaking her rules is not a risk worthy of the consequences.
    My excuse is the same as always.  “I have to study, and I have a paper due next week.  Maybe next time.”  I situate myself on my bed faced away from her scornful glare. I nonchalantly pull my brunette locks up into a messy bun on top of my head before pretending to consolidate my already perfectly organized notes in my backpack.
    I can still feel her sneering at me, scorned by my rejection.  I know I won’t be getting anything accomplished while the rest of the house is prepping for this party.  I know I could just pop in my earbuds and read, but I don’t want to rehash the same argument with Morgan, so I need a quick escape.  I stand, leaving my organized books ready for me when everyone is gone, and walk over to the closet.  I search for my workout