Page 74 of Off Limits

“Oh.” This one is more clipped, his own frustration tingeing his tone. “I see. Well, as we’ve discussedmanytimes, the deadline is quickly approaching. You need to get that done. Tomorrow. Make it a point to get it done tomorrow.”

I don’t know exactly what it is that fills me with determination and defiance. Maybe it’s the imperiousness of his order that he thinks he can make me turn in paperwork I haven’t filled out, don’t want to fill out, and have no intention of turning in ever. Maybe it’s the echo of Simon’s words about needing to stand up for myself with my parents that have been bouncing in my head and reverberating through my body for the last week. Or maybe I’m just sick of my dad trying to run my life.

Whatever it is, the next word that comes out of my mouth is, “No.” Simple, direct, firm. No beating around the bush. Just, “No, Dad. I’m not going to do that.”

I can hear him taking a deep breath over the phone, like he’s trying to stay calm. I guess I can relate. Even though my hands are trembling and my heart’s beating faster and pumping adrenaline through my veins, I feel calmer and more certain than I’ve felt about anything in a very long time.

“Ellie,” he says, his tone full of all the patronizing condescension he can manage—and believe me, that’s a lot—“we’ve discussed this at length. You need to choose a suitable major. We settled on—”

“No, Dad,” I cut in, “yousettled on that. I was in the room for the conversation, but my input was clearly unwelcome. I have never wanted to go to nursing school. Or become a teacher. Or a doctor. Or any of the other options you’ve decided were ‘suitable’ for me.”

He sputters, and I marvel at the fact that I’ve actually rendered my father speechless, even if only for a brief, shining moment. “Alright then, young lady”—oooh, he’s pulled out theyoung lady. That only comes out when he’s very annoyed with me—“what do you intend to major in? I’ve let you mess around for over a year. If you don’t declare a major by the end of your sophomore year, you can’t continue. And if there are any prerequisites for your upper level classes, you’ll be far behind your classmates if you wait until then to declare. The clock is ticking, and you need to make a decision. Soon.”

“Graphic design.” Like thenofrom just a moment ago, the answer spills out of me without me even stopping to weigh the idea first. But once it’s out there, it feels right. I’ve considered it before. Kicked the idea around. Studied the degree track in the course catalogue. Even picked a few of the prereqs, just in case. At least that’s what I told myself. When Simon suggested it, the part of me full of unwelcome opinions that I keep buried deep, deep down inside me jumped up and down and shouted, “Yes!” But I’m so used to burying her and keeping her shut up, that I did what I always do and ignored her.

But not now. Not anymore. She’s getting unlocked and unleashed, and she gets to make the decisions now. Because Simon and Autumn are both right, though they went about trying to help me realize this in different ways. I need to stand up for myself with my parents rather than just floating along and letting them run my life. I’m the one who has to live my life, not them. And even if they don’t think that graphic design is ‘suitable’—whatever the fuck that even means, because what is this, the 1890s?—that’s just too bad. I enjoy design and lettering and visual arts, and that’s what matters.

Dad inhales sharply. “Graphic design,” he repeats, and I brace myself, waiting for the explosion of his reaction.

But it never comes.

“That’s what you want to do?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

“Have you looked at the degree plan?”

I roll my eyes, because seriously? “Yes, Dad. A lot.”

A long pause. “Alright. I can see how that could be … plausible.”

Plausible? Plausible. I’m not … like … huh?

“As a career choice,” he clarifies.

“Right. Yes. Definitely plausible.”

He clears his throat. “Good. Good. I’m glad that decision is made. Don’t forget to turn in whatever paperwork to make it official.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Okay. Your mom will be in touch about Thanksgiving break plans.”

“Um, okay.”

And with that, we say goodbye and hang up, leaving me staring at my phone in a daze for a moment.

That … I don’t … I could’ve done that, like, ayearago and saved myself so many headaches. Why didn’t I do that sooner?

Well, I know why. Because I expected my dad to go ballistic, not just accept my choice. But I was completely wrong.

Is it possible that I’m wrong about Cal? Maybe telling him about Simon and me wouldn’t be so awful. Okay, yeah, given his past behavior, I’m sure he won’t be thrilled, but maybe he won’t be as mad as I’ve thought all along …

With a plan coalescing in my mind, I kick off my covers and hop out of bed. “Autumn,” I call, heading into the common room. “Let’s get dinner. I think I know the best chance of fixing my mess. But it’ll have to wait till tomorrow. In the meantime, we need to celebrate. I decided on a major, and my dad didn’t lose his shit.”

Autumn’s eyes light up, and she pumps her fist in the air. “Good for you! Yes. It’s definitely time to celebrate.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

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