Page 101 of The Midseason Fakeout

She moves just out of reach. “All these people do is have kids and live off the government. I’ll be damned if I see it happen to one of my own children.”

“But I can go to Carnegie and get knocked up?”

She gasps still but turns up her nose. “At least they could afford to take care of you. Men who come from well-bred families don’t shirk their duties.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Darrin switches his hand to mine and squeezes my shoulder. I take his hint and shut up, wrapping my arms around myself while he attempts to talk to her. “Aidan’s one of my good friends. You know that. He’s a great guy. At least they’re using protection, and Mom, Aidan’s going to play for the NFL. If you’re worried about Bailey and money, you don’t need to.”

She rolls her eyes. “The NFL. Please. That’s not a career. It’s a bunch of men running around playing games.”

“Or,” I force out. “I can make my own damn money and not put all my hopes and dreams on my future husband because I’m a capable woman who can do shit for herself.”

“Or that,” Darrin shrugs, slinking away.

“Of course you can do whatever you want, but not going here.” She waves her arms at our surroundings. “In this small town. With an inferior education.”

At the same time she says this, a man with a t-shirt and holes in his jeans walks down the sidewalk, and she sneers at him.

“You’re so judgmental.”

“Am I? Because I’ve done the comparisons. Have you? Carnegie has a graduation statistic of over ninety percent. Seventy-five percent of its graduates go on to make over half a million per year and most of them make much more than that. Carnegie’s graduates are CEO’s, CFO’s, doctors, engineers, architects. They are the smartest men and women in this entire country.”

I wave her away. “Old money always wins.”

She shakes her head. “Would you like to hear Warner’s statistics? Only sixty percent of its students ever graduate. Half of that statistic is lucky if they make over six figures per year.”

“You act like that’s terrible. Money doesn’t make you happy. Clearly.”

Her lips thin. “You’re lucky you don’t know the stress of being poor.”

Uneasiness crawls over me. I understand how fortunate I’ve been. Truly. But is that the price for freedom? For happiness? Because Aidan isn’t at Carnegie, which means my heart—my joy—isn’t at Carnegie either. “Even if you had a crystal ball and could tell me all the terrible things that would happen to me by staying at Warner, I wouldn’t change my mind.”

“You’re being naïve.”

“I’m being myself.”

Mom closes her door. The bang is so loud, I jump in my seat. She immediately puts the car in reverse and squeals out of the parking spot. A car horn blares behind us, and I brace in my seat, expecting a crash that never comes.

Darrin holds on to the two front seats. “What are you doing?”

“It’s clear I have to be the parent and make the decision for the both of you.”

The restaurant we agreed to eat at is coming up quick on the left. Instead of stopping, she presses harder on the gas. The car jerks all over the road, and I share a look of fear with Darrin.

He sits up straight in his seat, his gaze flicking to hers in the rearview mirror. “I’ll drive. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

She glances down at her speedometer, and I take a deep breath as she lets her foot off the gas pedal. “This is what you’re going to do, Bailey. You’re going to text that boy and tell him that you can’t see him anymore and not to contact you again. Cut off all ties.”

I press my lips together, tears springing to my eyes. He’ll think I abandoned him.

“Do it!”

Her driving becomes erratic again. She misses a stop sign, and the contents of my stomach somersault, sloshing around. She’s hit her breaking point, and as much as it angers me, the part of me that knows that this is the mom who cared for me through everything feels terrible to have pushed her to this point. If she wasn’t so stubborn.

“Now.”

The simple fury in her tone moves me to act. I bring up Aidan’s text thread, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I could tell him Mom’s lost it and has taken me hostage, but I don’t know what she’ll do if she sees I’ve disobeyed her request.

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