Chapter 15 #2
“Oh my God.” She stares at the three carrots, open-mouthed.
“I know.” I nod in agreement. “Not bad for my first time, huh?”
“What did you do to them?”
When I notice her expression is not one of wonderment but quite the opposite, I deflate. “Well, now you’re just being critical.”
“There’s nothing left. There’s barely even enough for a crudités platter.”
“Mom, don’t be silly,” I say. “No one eats the carrots. They’re hardly the star of a crudités platter.”
“They’re supposed to be for the Japanese curry I’m making.” Her eyes narrow at me.
“Okay. How the hell was I supposed to know that?”
“Again, by using your common sense. Can’t you see the picture on the package of curry?” She holds up the box to me, and now that I see it, I get it. It’s her attitude I still don’t understand.
I’d always been aware of my parents’ general disappointment in me.
But it was always from afar. That’s why my socialite status mattered so much to me.
Whatever insufficiency I was feeling with Mom or Dad or Gavin, I could always count on other forms of validation.
Parties held in my honor, the paparazzi yelling for my attention, paid appearances at sold-out events.
It was the yin to my yang, the balance of my life.
Now that we’re stuck together for the unforeseeable future, I’m not sure how I can counteract the negativity.
“So I didn’t know how to make a Japanese curry. Why is that such a big deal?” I flail my hand in frustration. It seems like nothing will be good enough for her. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on me?”
At first I think she’s going to lecture me about my outburst. But she surprises me by tilting her head with a saddened expression. “This is my fault.” She sets her knife down on the cutting board.
“What?” I raise a brow, half skeptical, half surprised.
“I hired the best nannies, the best cooks, the best tutors—because I didn’t want you to struggle. I made life too easy for you. Now that we’re on our own, I can see you’re not taking it well.”
“Oh my God, Mom. What happened to us is a pretty big deal. My reaction is reasonable.”
“Maybe,” she says. “But that’s all the more reason why I feel the need to make up for lost time and teach you how to do things that were always done for you.”
Maybe I should be grateful that she’s trying to make up for the many times she wasn’t there for me.
But I can’t help but think it’s too little, too late.
Why couldn’t she care about me when I was exhausted from back-to-back events, or when I was humiliated by tabloids publishing unflattering photos of me, or when rising gossip bloggers would try to generate more likes by spreading rumors about me—times when I needed her the most?
A few minutes later, Gavin comes back from working in the field just in time for lunch.
After my tirade yesterday, things haven’t been great between us.
Still, I look to him for camaraderie after being forced into child labor.
Instead I’m surprised to find him excitedly talking about the farm and the plans they have for it.
“Gavin and I cleared half the field today,” Dad brags to Mom.
Gavin nods proudly. “We can probably finish the rest tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll have to decide what to plant.” Dad considers it.
“What do you think about cabbage?” Mom suggests. “Like the kind we grew in Anbandegi.”
“That’s a great idea,” Dad says. “I bet they have seeds for that at the convenience store. They have everything there.”
“I can come with you,” Gavin suggests. His enthusiasm doesn’t waver and seems genuine, which means he wasn’t faking a new hobby for the sake of Mom and Dad’s approval. He’s actually excited about working on the farm.
How can everything be different and yet somehow remain exactly the same?
At night I take another bath using the last of my lavender bath salts. As much as I didn’t want to deplete my supply, I needed it. It’s surreal how easy it is for Mom, Dad, and even Gavin to go on as if this were normal life. Like they’ve been living here for years.
“Elena, come on. It’s been over an hour.” Gavin knocks on the door. “It’s a bathroom, not a magician. No amount of time in there can change who you are.”
I groan. Gavin is the worst. Like, honestly.
It’s impossible to pretend I’m okay with living here with my family.
Tomorrow I’ll see if the convenience store has more lavender bath salts, because if today was an indication of what it’s going to be like living here, I’m going to need a silo-sized amount to get me through it.
After I dry my hair and get into bed, Gavin comes in from the bathroom and settles into his bed. I’m about to doze off when I hear Gavin…humming? I was already in a mood. Gavin’s good spirits make me snap.
I jolt up from under my covers and glare at him. “How can you be happy at a time like this?”
“Whoa, relax.” He puts his palms up. Gavin telling me to relax is the role reversal I least expected. Especially considering our surroundings.
“No, Gavin. You need to unrelax,” I low-growl at him. “We live here now.”
“It’s not that bad,” Gavin says dismissively.
“Yes, it is,” I say through gritted teeth. “Why do you think we couldn’t find new tenants? It’s so bad, no one wants to live here. People are abandoning their homes to leave this place, and we’re being forced to live here.” I let out a sob that I’ve been trying to keep in.
Gavin remains unmoved by my emotional outburst. “You seriously need to calm down.”
Calm down?! I glare at him. Not today, Satan.
“This is so not how I want to spend my summer.”
“You think this is how I want to spend my summer?” Gavin’s head jerks back. “Living with you is the worst part about it.”
But that’s just it. Even though he may not like sharing a room with me, he’s definitely happier about everything else.
“Actually I do think this is how you want to spend your summer.” I assess him from head to toe.
Something’s changed in him these last few days.
And it’s not his fashion choice, which is a shame.
He’s more upbeat and less moody than before, with a look of serenity on his face that can only come from a person who has found inner peace.
And who could ever be at peace in this situation?
“You’ve been giving off orange cat energy since we got here. ”
“Orange cat energy?”
“Yes. Strange. Weird. Inexplicable,” I say, loud and clear, so there’s no room for misunderstanding. When he still doesn’t get it, I realize my oversight. This is Gavin I’m speaking to. I’m going to have to be more direct. “Why’d you lie to Dad about your grades?”
This gets his attention. “Who said I lied?”
“I know report cards were released three weeks ago.”
When he falls silent, I know I’m right.
“Did you fail every class or something?” I snort. Not because I’m callous, but because we both know that with a guaranteed career ahead of him, his grades won’t matter in the end.
When I notice his hands are clenched into tight fists, I recoil. I may have taken it too far this time. “Hey, sorry. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is.”
“No, trust me. It’s pretty bad.” He slumps down into his bed, blows out all the air in his lungs, and rakes a hand through his hair.
I’m taken aback by Gavin’s vulnerability. I always knew he’d go to any school Dad wanted him to go to. I never thought he actually cared about his grades. “I’m sure Dad will understand.” In fact, I know he will. As long as Gavin graduates, Dad won’t care what his transcripts look like.
“No, he won’t. Not this time.”
“Dad didn’t even go to college.”
“I know. That’s why it matters to him so much that I do. He won’t understand why I threw away a chance to go to college when I had the opportunity he didn’t.”
That’s when I realize Gavin isn’t talking about failed grades.
University of Southern California
3551 Trousdale Parkway
Los Angeles, CA
March 20, 2026
Gavin Ok
1000 Wilshire Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA
Subject: Notification of Expulsion from USC
Dear Mr. Ok,
After a thorough investigation, it has been determined that you have violated the University of Southern California’s academic integrity policy by using artificial intelligence (AI) to complete assignments and coursework that were expected to be your own work.
Specifically it was found that the work you submitted for a midterm paper on business ethics was generated using AI tools, which not only constitutes a serious breach of the school’s code of conduct regarding academic honesty but also begs the question of your understanding of ethics in general.
As a result of this violation, the school administration has made the decision to expel you from the University of Southern California effective immediately.
This decision is final and in accordance with the school’s disciplinary procedures, which were outlined in the student handbook you received at the beginning of the school year.
We hope that this experience serves as a learning opportunity, and we wish you the best in your future academic and personal pursuits.
Sincerely,
Barron Rutherford
Dean of the School of Business, University of Southern California