Twenty-Two #2
I glance around at the table. My family, Katrina, Trevor, Garrett: They can’t find out like this.
I’ve been avoiding telling everyone because I needed time to think.
I needed to take everything in and make this choice without disappointing anyone or getting anyone’s hopes up.
There is so much riding on my choice next year, and I feel like, no matter what decision I make, someone will be upset.
But now, because I didn’t trust them, these people I care most about will find out my decision at the same time as everyone else.
“Garrett,” I say as Kelly Chambers winds her way back to her spot. “Can we talk in the hallway really quick?”
His eyebrows pull together. “Now?”
“It’s important,” I say. “It’s about—”
“And finally,” Ms. Hammond calls, the ceremony having arrived at the lone music scholarship, “Enzo Rossi!”
The world is rushing. My table is cheering, but their faces are blurry, their sound muted. I’m halfway between sitting and standing when Ms. Hammond’s voice cuts through the fog. “Next year, Enzo will be majoring in music composition at the University of Michigan!”
I stand, frozen at my seat, the eyes of everyone at my table boring into me. The applause peters out, engulfing the room in a heavy silence.
“You applied to U of M?” Dad says. “And you didn’t tell us?”
“I don’t understand,” Aunt Liz says, and the confusion in her eyes makes my stomach clench.
“It’s okay,” Garrett tells the table. “There must have been a mistake. Obviously Enzo’s going to—” He freezes at the expression on my face. “Enz? You told them. Right?”
“Told us what?” Emma asks.
“Nothing,” I say, which is true.
“Enzo Rossi?” Ms. Hammond repeats, oblivious to the scene unfolding at our table.
“You should go up there,” Trevor says.
“Nothing?” Garrett’s expression turns to granite.
“Enzo Rossi,” Ms. Hammond says, looking at our table, having finally spotted us.
“U of M,” Dad says, brow wrinkled. “I didn’t even know that was on the table.”
“They have a great composition program,” I say stupidly.
Emma glances at the front of the room. “Enz, you should probably go get your award.”
Garrett’s eyes are colder than Lake Superior in January. “Are you serious? You didn’t tell them?”
“Tell us what?” Katrina asks.
Ms. Hammond gives up trying to get me to the front of the room. “Well, shall we move on with the rest of this evening’s events?” she asks, but everyone seems invested in the drama playing out in our corner of the cafeteria.
“We’ve got front-row seats to a lovers’ quarrel,” Evan Hegge tells his table, and they laugh.
“Shut the fuck up, Evan,” Garrett says, loud enough for the whole room to hear. To our table he says, “I’m going to get some air.” Then he shoves his chair away and strides out the double doors at the back of the room. The entire cafeteria watches him, then turns to gaze at me.
“What didn’t you tell us?” Dad asks.
I can’t avoid the question anymore. “I got in,” I say. “To Burton-Clark.”
“You did?” Aunt Liz says, the pride in her voice stabbing me in the stomach again.
“But you’re going to Michigan?” Dad asks.
I nod. I gesture stupidly at the exit. “I should probably … I’m going to—”
Then, with everyone’s silent gaze on me, I leave the room.
I chase after Garrett and catch up to him on the front steps of the school. The sun slants down on the last patches of melting snow, its syrupy rays bathing the world in the hopeful warmth of early spring.
“Garrett!”
He spins around, face flushed, chest heaving. “Why didn’t you tell them? Why did you let everyone back there think you’re going to Michigan?” He takes a step toward me. “God, Enzo, when are you going to stop doing this?”
“Doing what?” I ask. I know I should have told him, but I selfishly wanted to live in the dream a little longer, imagining a life in California where Garrett comes to visit me during spring break, where we go see movies at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
But Garrett’s anger now feels bigger than that.
“Making yourself small because it’s easier for everyone else!
Not telling your family about this huge dream because you don’t want to hurt their feelings.
Seriously”—he gestures at the school behind me—“they’re all going to find out at some point, like when you, I dunno, have to buy a flight to Los Angeles in August! ”
I don’t say anything.
He recoils, arm lowering, and when he speaks, his voice is low. “Fuck. You’re not going, are you?”
I had underestimated how good it would feel to have someone besides Aunt Liz and Mr. Campbell genuinely believe in me—and how gut-wrenching it would feel to disappoint them.
“I’m going to U of M.” I had come up with the idea before my Burton-Clark audition.
It’s a state school, so while it won’t be free like the School of Mines, the tuition is almost nothing compared to Burton-Clark’s, especially with the scholarships I’ve gotten.
And instead of being multiple flights away on the other side of the country, U of M is only a seven-hour drive from home.
He stares at me for a second, like he doesn’t recognize the person standing in front of him. “You can’t be serious,” he says.
When I don’t answer, he continues.
“I can’t believe you’re throwing this chance away. You’re throwing your dream away.”
I feel heat rush to my cheeks. “I’m not throwing anything away.
I’m making a choice! I’m choosing not to make my dad take out another mortgage.
I’m choosing for there to be some semblance of a college fund left for Emma.
I’m choosing to be a little closer so that I can drive back to Irontown during the holidays, so that I can chase this dream without losing my connection to home. ”
He shakes his head, making a disgusted sound in his throat, looking at me like I’m a coward.
“No!” I shout, my voice reverberating off the melting snow.
“You don’t get to do that! Michigan is a great school.
Their composition program, their ensembles, their entire music school are amazing.
I’m excited for next year, which is something I haven’t been able to say before.
And it’s a little hypocritical of you to be disappointed in me for staying closer to home when you’re going to college in the city you grew up in!
Just because this isn’t the decision you’ve wanted me—”