Page 24 of Best I Never Had

I laugh, returning my attention to my French vocabulary words.

“Have you heard back from Penn State yet?”

I look up at my dad, a little taken aback by the sudden change in topic. My mom’s eyes move from the TV to my dad, then to me as she waits for me to answer his question.

“I got in,” I answer, pushing my glasses up with my index finger once again. I don’t bother adding that I got the acceptance letter a couple of weeks ago and shoved it into my desk drawer the second I saw the “Congratulations!” greeting below the letterhead.

“Good,” he replies. “Have you picked a major?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, I assume you aren’t going to play football.”

“Greg,” my mom warns.

“What? I just want to make sure he knows what he’s doing when he leaves for college?—”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I interrupt, attempting to mediate their disagreement before it turns into an argument.

“Well, you should decide soon. You don’t want to be one of those undeclared kids and end up majoring in art or some bullcrap.” I don’t mean to, but I roll my eyes at his ignorance before I hear him grumble, “Hayden, I don’t know why you can’t just go with something safe like accounting or finance. You know you’ll always have a job.”

Not this again. This vicious cycle of what direction my life should lead, what my future should look like. I’m so tired of it.

I start to lose focus on the image of a cartoon swimming pool along with the word “la piscine” in front of me. I shuffle my index cards, lining up the edges to make them stack perfectly, before stuffing them into the crease of my textbook.

“What ifthat’s not what I want? What if I don’t even know if I want to go to college?”

“What do you mean? Hayden, you’re going to college.” The grip my dad has on the armrest of the couch tightens. I can see his fingers press into the rough fabric as his eyes narrow down on me.

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“No, that is absolutely out of the question. You’re going to college. You aren’t going to throw away your future.” He stands, leaving my mom looking up at him with disapproving eyes. “I’m getting more ice cream,” he announces gruffly. He stalks off into the kitchen and I hear the fridge door being pried open.

“Hayden,” my mom’s voice calls. I look up at her, and a soft smile peeks through the concern in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” I move the bowl of melted chocolate ice cream from the floor to the coffee table.

“Why didn’t you tell us you got in?” she asks, ignoring my apology.

“Oh,” I whisper. “I don’t know…”

“That’s a big deal.”

“I know,” I say, unable to help the proud smile lifting the corners of my mouth. “I guess…I just didn’t know what I was going to do, so…”

She nods. “Dad’s just worried about your future. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he wants what’s best for you.” She pauses, giving me an encouraging smile. “We’ll talk to him when things blow over a bit.”

“Yeah,” I answer, knowing there is no talking to my dad. And there’s no point in arguing this fact with my mom. We both know how it would play out. We sit in silence, the clink of ceramic bowls coming from the kitchen intertwining with Pat Sajak’s enlivened voice coming off the TV. “I’m going to finish my homework in my room.”

I stand to leave the living room, a room that was calm and relaxing just minutes ago. I walk back to my room feeling all too defeated and tired from thiscontinuous back and forth that never seems to end between me and my dad.

For the record, you would look absolutely ridiculous in an orange fro wig and a red ball nose.

The image of Natalia coaxing my worries free, replacing them with jokes, causes an unwilling smile to spread across my face. I slump back on my bed as I glance at my laptop screen nestled atop the sheets. My fingers hover over the Facebook icon on my search bar. I look through my previous messages and find Natalia’s name before I type out a new message.

Me: On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if I decided to join the circus? Maybe clown college wouldn’t be so bad. Balloon animal design sounds like a promising major.

It’s almost instant when I get a response.

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