Chapter 22
22
Every year at their high school, the junior class had Career Day. At sixteen years old, they answered two hundred questions, and a computer program told them what industry they should work in for the rest of their lives. Ginny had hated it.
Elsie hated it for a different reason. “Why do I have to waste my morning doing this when I already know where I’m gonna work?”
“At least we’re not in History right now,” Ginny said.
They’d considered clicking answers at random, but they couldn’t really complain about how dumb this questionnaire thing was if they didn’t answer honestly.
Two hundred questions later, apparently they should work in construction, graphic design, or welding. Construction and welding didn’t actually sound terrible. They wouldn’t have to be in an office all day, at least. With construction, they wouldn’t even have to do any more school, which they weren’t mad at. None of the potential careers lit them up inside or anything, but they’d never been particularly excited by the idea of having a job.
To ensure kids actually took part in the survey instead of fucking around on the computers for a morning, there was a Career Day assignment. They were supposed to research colleges with programs in the fields the survey suggested and write a one-page paper. Ginny ignored her results and searched for schools with woodworking programs instead.
“What’s this?” Elsie asked, leaning over to look at Ginny’s computer screen.
Ginny clicked away. “Nothing. A school with a woodworking program.”
“It told you to do woodworking? That’s so cool.”
“I wish. It said construction or graphic design or welding. I was just messing around.”
Elsie tapped a finger against Ginny’s nose. “Okay, but you know yourself better than some dumb survey. If you wanna do woodworking, you should.”
“Maybe.” Ginny shrugged. “It’s in Wisconsin. Looks kind of cool.”
They’d only been doing woodworking for a couple of years. It had started when they were freshmen and Elsie tried out for the school play. She dragged Ginny to auditions with her, but Ginny refused to try out.
“I’m not the fourth of five kids, I get plenty of attention without literally being onstage.”
“Oh, har har.” Elsie rolled her eyes. “I just think it’d be fun to do together!”
Ginny felt bad for teasing her, but not bad enough to audition. “If you get a part, I’ll work backstage or something.”
Ginny had made stuff with their grandpa’s lathe before, but set construction was the first time they used a table saw. They were hooked. The next semester they dropped choir—much to Elsie’s dismay—to take wood shop.
For their fifteenth birthday, Ginny’s parents got them their very own table saw. It was the best present they’d ever gotten. But who knew if they wanted to do woodworking for the rest of their life? That was why Career Day was so dumb. They were still kids. Not everyone in the computer lab even had their driver’s license yet. Just because Elsie had a built-in job after graduation didn’t mean everyone knew what they wanted to do with their lives.
“Do you think my parents would let me get an associate’s in business management?” Elsie asked.
“I thought you weren’t gonna go to college.”
“I don’t think Alec is ever going to get his MBA at this point,” Elsie said. “Might as well have someone in the family who actually went to school for this thing. Plus, my top match has a graphic design program. Wouldn’t that be so fun—going to college together?”
Graphic design was the least exciting of the options Ginny had gotten, but it wasn’t terrible. And going to school with Elsie did sound better than two years in middle-of-nowhere Wisconsin in a program Ginny might not even like.
In the end, they didn’t even apply to the school in Wisconsin.
That’s what they think about as they return to an empty house after the trip. Bonnie was adopted before the trip, so there’s no foster dog. No job to get up for on Monday. No lunch with Elsie. No Elsie at all.
Well, that’s an exaggeration. At least they hope it is. One fight doesn’t mean the end of the friendship. Ginny has always thought that since they made it through sophomore year, they can make it through anything. But the longer they went without speaking on the trip home, the more it felt like they never would again.
They don’t turn on any lights, just sit on the couch in the dark and think about all the ways they’ve fucked up.
They want to be mad at Elsie. They are mad at Elsie. For not trusting them, not believing them, cutting them where it hurt—acting like their friendship has been one-sided, like Ginny has been a tagalong. They’re mad for the silent, awkward plane ride.
But more than anything, they’re mad at her because she’s right.
Ginny fell in love with Elsie before they knew what falling in love was. The ache has been a part of them for so long it may as well have always been there. They don’t know who they are without Elsie. They don’t know how much Elsie affects their decisions.
Ginny has always been willing to do whatever Elsie wants, to do whatever meant they got to be in Elsie’s life. Sometimes that worked out for them both, like when Elsie did theatre and Ginny got into set design. Sometimes it didn’t: they took yoga for their gym credit instead of weight lifting—got to see Elsie more, but yoga was not for them. It was boring, and the instructor acted like the same exact poses should work for every body type and ability.
On Career Day, Ginny ignored the actual assignment and wrote their essay on America’s obsession with college and the importance of trade schools. But then she followed Elsie to college.
What would their life look like without Elsie in it? Who would they be?
Thinking about it makes them itchy. But what else can they think about? Just another way Elsie was right: Ginny has nothing to distract themself from the fight, because everything in their life revolves around Elsie right now. They don’t have a job. They’d finished the last of their custom woodworking orders before going on the trip—they’d had plenty of time, given their unemployment, and they didn’t want to make the client wait a week while they were gone. They don’t even have a foster dog.
One of those issues has an easy solution. Ginny texts Edgar from Hearts of Hope, the foster organization they work with.
They always rotate through dogs, usually before the first one even gets adopted out of their house. Once, they took in a pregnant dog and dealt with her and her thirteen puppies for eight weeks before they could be spread to other foster homes. That was so much fucking work, but it doesn’t sound bad, now. They’ve got time.
Thank god, Edgar texts when Ginny says they’re looking for a project dog.
He sends a pic of a dopey-looking dog, part German shepherd, probably, one ear up one ear down, who’s so fucking cute Ginny can barely stand it.
omg
He pees on everything and will chew through your couch
I love him. When can I pick him up?
After arranging to pick up Rufus— Rufus —tomorrow morning, Ginny texts the family group chat. She’d meant to text when they landed, but she got distracted with how her best friend might hate her now.
Home from Santa Lupita. Also I quit my job.
They’ve had enough of not telling people.
Their grandpa responds first. Glad you’re home safe. And did you now?
Don’t worry, she texts quickly. My emergency fund will cover me for a couple months if I don’t get work before then.
Congrats, G! A text from their mom. You always hated that place.
You’ll figure it out, their dad chimes in. Proud of you.
Ginny breathes. Their confidence reinforces her certainty that she made the right decision—for herself, not for Elsie.
On Sunday, she picks up Rufus from Hearts of Hope. He accidentally pees all over her leg when they meet. She loves him immediately.
It takes a couple of tries to get him into the kennel in the truck bed. Ginny doesn’t always use it, but they correctly assumed Rufus has no idea how to ride in a car yet. That’ll be part of his training.
Ginny likes to introduce dogs to the backyard first. It gets some of their energy out as they run and sniff and chew sticks and find toys from previous dogs. And it lets her get to know them with no particular worries about discipline—the fence is high enough there’s no real trouble they can get into. The backyard is covered in snow that would’ve come up to Bonnie the Shetland sheepdog’s stomach, so high she’d barely be able to walk, but Rufus is big enough that he bounds around easily.
He keeps circling back to Ginny as if to say are you seeing this? and then taking off again. Edgar has a fenced-in yard, too, so Ginny’s not sure what’s so mind-blowing to Rufus, but it’s really fucking cute. He buries his head in the snow, following a scent, and runs around that way, like a snowplow. When he comes up again, his face is completely white. Ginny laughs, and he races over to them for pets.
“We’re gonna be best friends,” Ginny tells Rufus, and her chest hurts.