Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
“OKAY, GET UP.” THE CURTAINS in my room are flung wide, letting in a blast of pure, white-hot Florida sunshine.
I roll over and stuff my head under a pillow without responding.
“Come on, Blair,” Mom says, coming to the side of my bed to pat my leg. “We need to start planning. You’ve had four days to wallow.”
“I’m not wallowing,” I croak.
“Oh, really? If this isn’t wallowing, then tell me—what is it?” My bed dips as Mom sits on the edge.
I push myself up, flinging my blankets away to fix her with a dark look. “Protesting.”
Mom’s face falls. “I know you’re upset, but this is for your own good.”
“Oh, please keep telling me what’s for my own good.” I flop back down again, pulling a pillow over my head. “I guess everyone but me would know.”
“I don’t like this attitude.”
I don’t respond.
“Blair Catherine,” Mom says, her voice like ice. “You will get out of this bed, and you will come downstairs to discuss your future with Victor and me. Right now.”
I ignore her.
Mom splutters. This isn’t something she’s used to from me. From Sawyer, sure. But from obedient, all-toes-in-line Blair? It’s inconceivable.
When she leaves at last, Goose noses his way into the room and jumps onto my bed, taking up the spot he’s hardly left since I got home four days ago.
In that time, I’ve been in constant contact with my friends.
Mikey texted me that they’d found a new job at a mom-and-pop sandwich shop two days ago—The pay is way worse, but no one told me I have to wear a skirt!
Small wins!—and Felicity sent a photo of my brother at the table with the DnD group, who’d returned to finish their interrupted campaign: Are we stuck with him now?
I also got a response from Deonne after I sent her my Stone & Spiral withdrawal email. She didn’t push for any answers except to confirm that I was okay and ask if there was anything she could do to help. Unfortunately, I think Deonne reaching out to my parents would do more harm than good.
Then there’s Jamie. Last night I fell asleep to his quiet presence on the other end of the phone as he put the final touches on Cram Session. In a few days he’ll send it off to be weighed and measured by the committee that could grant him the scholarship of his dreams.
We haven’t talked about what that will mean for us—me back home, with no idea what will happen from here on, and him possibly off to EmTech.
My parents sent off my fall-semester deposit the day I accepted my admission offer at CFSU, but I’m sure their condition for my return to school will be that I continue with computer science.
That’s what they’re waiting to tell me now, right downstairs. The plan they have for me.
Because of course whatever the plan is, I won’t be allowed to make it.
It takes another three days before Mom and Victor manage to strong-arm me into leaving my room for more than the bare minimum (food, bathroom). They achieve this by suspending my phone service—which I wouldn’t have noticed right away, except that they’ve also shut off the Wi-Fi.
I’m at my desk trying to send Deonne a progress photo of my half-finished soapstone sculpture, which I’ve been working on in my free time.
I gave up on the fish, and instead I’ve carved it into a fish tin.
Except instead of a fish where the lid peels back, it’s a row of smiling girls crammed in together, long-lashed eyes wide open and staring.
I’m still working on the label—Tinned Girls in Extra Virgin Olive Oil.
Responsibly Raised.—on a ribbon, surrounded by flowers and fishhooks.
When the photo comes back undeliverable and I realize the Wi-Fi is also turned off, it hits me that this is my parents on the offensive.
I also know I can’t put off this conversation any longer.
“We’ll turn it back on once you talk to us,” Mom says when I step into the dining room, where she and Victor are waiting for me. Victor is at the head of the six-seat table, Mom to his left. Normally I would take the seat across from Mom, to Victor’s right. It’s the obvious choice.
But in the split second I have to make a decision, I wonder what my brother would do in this situation, and the answer is obvious.
I pull out the chair at the other head of the table and sit down.
Victor visibly bristles, and Mom presses her lips together in a straight line.
“Blair,” she says tightly, “we wanted to discuss your plans for the fall.”
“The plan is that you’ll return to school,” Victor says. “You’ll live in the dorms. Your advisor will be told about your mishap with the Accelerated Pre-Major program, and we’ll determine the next best steps for you to get back on the road to success.”
“And what if my advisor agrees that the best step is changing my major?”
“If that’s the case, then you can change your major,” Mom says.
I straighten in shock. “You’d let me do that?”
She glances at Victor, and he says, “Yes. You’d choose from a select group of majors, with our approval.”
I exhale. “And what would those be? Engineering, economics…?”
“Accounting or finance,” Victor fills in. “Business administration, if you agree to grad school. We’d be open to other suggestions in related fields if something else interests you.”
By the time he’s finished speaking, I’m buzzing with dread. “And if none of these interest me?”
“Then you pick the one you’ll be strongest in.”
“We thought that was computer science,” I say.
“You’re welcome to stay enrolled in that,” Victor replies. “Obviously, the cost of the APM will come out of your spending money until we’ve been repaid in full.”
“Of course,” I say heavily. “And if I don’t agree to this?”
“You already agreed when you enrolled and allowed us to pay your deposit,” says Victor.
“We’ll check on your status every month to make sure you haven’t made any changes without our consent.
If at any point you choose to change your major, withdraw from a class, or enroll in any course we don’t agree with, then we will pull your housing and tuition for the following semester. ”
“Do you even want to ask me what it was like in the APM? How my classmates treated me? How my professor treated me?” Blood rushes in my ears, the memory of my hot shame flushing out all other feelings.
“We’ve talked about this, Blair,” Mom says.
“School isn’t meant to be an easy ride. Learning how to deal with difficult people, especially difficult people in power, will only serve you in the long run.
You will always encounter people who want to tear you down—coworkers, bosses, clients.
People who want to make you feel as small as possible.
The life you want is worth persisting through that. ”
“And what about you?” I ask. “Are my parents supposed to be the people who make me feel small too?”
“Oh, cut the drama,” Victor says. “We’re the people who want what’s best for you, whether you know what that is or not.”
“I want what’s best for me too! If I’m miserable, I don’t know how that could be best for me! And I don’t understand how threatening me with a felony is somehow doing what’s best for me either.”
“Again, I’m not threatening you with anything, Blair. I’m offering to help you out of a situation of your own creation.”
I cover my face with my hands, sucking down one breath, then another.
“You’ll spend the last few weeks of summer session here, and we’ll move you into the dorms at the start of the semester.” Victor pauses. “And of course, you’ll break up with Jamie.”
My stomach drops. “No,” I say immediately.
Mom bristles. “We are not going to sit by while you date that—that—”
“That what? That incredible boy who has never done anything to deserve the way you treat him?”
“Oh, please,” Mom says sharply, holding up a hand. “You are young, Blair. You don’t know everything.”
“Maybe that’s true, but I do know he’s caring and hardworking and good, and you would rather watch him drown than hold out a hand and risk getting your sleeve wet!”
“Enough!” Mom shouts. “Ever since Sawyer met him, it’s been nothing but attitude and retaliation from him! Your brother used to listen to me, you know—”
“And that’s Jamie’s fault?”
“He’s a bad influence. And just look at you after living with him!”
“He had nothing to do with this,” I say. “You are suffocating us. I didn’t need Jamie around to realize that eventually I would need to breathe, Mom!”
Mom’s expression folds in fury. “I’m sorry that your life has been so difficult, Blair. Having us give you everything you could want or need—”
“You did, and I’m grateful. I’m so grateful to you both for supporting me all this time.
But is this what happens the second I step out of line?
Do you cut me off the same way you did Sawyer?
How can you act like you want what’s best for us when you’re so ready to leave him on his own like that?
No car insurance? No health insurance? No phone?
What if there’s an emergency? What if he gets sick? Or hurt?”
Victor snorts. “Your brother will be back. Two weeks on his own, and he’ll cave.”
I stare at him. “No, he won’t.”
Even I know that no matter how scary it is on his own, Sawyer would never subject himself to living under Victor’s thumb for the rest of his life.
But can I be that brave?
“So what would it be for me?” I ask. “No car, of course—you own that. No phone. No health insurance. No credit card, obviously. That goes without saying. I’ll be on my own for housing, tuition, expenses. Cut off in every way I can imagine. Am I missing anything?”
“No, that covers it,” Victor says, raising his chin.
“We aren’t asking for the moon,” Mom says.
“We just want you in safe housing where we don’t have to worry, in a major that will secure you a stable career.
You have so much freedom. Who else doesn’t have to work while they’re in school?
Or take out loans? We are promising you everything in exchange for almost nothing. ”