My eyes must be bugging out of my head because Becca quirks her eyebrow. “Didn’t Miss Carol tell you? She and Mr. Jim offered to host us each week. The trip we’re planning requires a lot of prep, but she said you like to travel, and that you’d love to help. I know you missed our meeting on Tuesday, but I’d be happy to fill you in.”
I can tell by the wide-eyed expression on her face that my eyes are still bugging out of my head.
“Sorry,” she says, speaking louder and slower. “I don’t know any ASL, but we thought you could teach us some each week so that by the time our trip rolls around, we’ll be pros.”
I want to tell her it’s not the kind of thing you pick up in a matter of weeks, and that I don’t have any interest in teaching anyone. Nor do I have any interest in traveling to Europe on a chaperoned trip with a bunch of people I don’t know.
My temper bubbles to the surface, so I tamp it back down before I lash out. Poor Becca doesn’t deserve my anger. None of this is her fault.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay down here a minute longer than necessary. “Bad headache,” I say, rubbing my temple.
When I stand to walk my plate into the kitchen Becca takes it instead. “Go lie down,” she says, her volume cranked. Her heart’s in the right place, though, and I don’t feel the slightest twinge of guilt for letting her bus my dish. The sooner I can crawl into bed, the better. There’s no doubt I’ll have to talk to my grandparents, but that doesn’t mean I have to do it tonight.
It’s my second awkward breakfast of the week, but I’m far more anxious about this one than I was about my meet up with Kendra. That didn’t end in my favor, though, and now my anxiety is skyrocketing.
Gran hands me a steaming mug of coffee while Grandad plates up one of his homemade cinnamon rolls.
“How’s your headache, dear?” Gran asks, pouring a splash of cream into her own coffee cup.
“I’m moving back to campus,” I blurt, before I can think better of it.
Gran sets her mug down with a little too much force, causing the contents to slosh over the sides. “Fallon, you’ve only been here a few days. Why on earth would you move back there already? Where will you stay?”
“There’s a room for me at The Chapel. Booker made sure of that. Living on campus will make things much easier, although I know the food won’t be nearly as good,” I say, winking at Grandad.
“Darling,” Gran gasps, and I know she’d be clutching her pearls if she were wearing them. “You can’t possibly live there. Boys live there.” The derision on her face is clear. The idea of me moving into a house full of college guys is akin to wearing pasties and thongs for the annual holiday photo shoot. It’s simply not done.
And yet, here I am, making waves and drawing lines in the sand.
“Is the drive too much for you?” Grandad asks, kindness shining in his blue eyes. “Because I can drive you over in the mornings and pick you up in the afternoons. It’s no trouble at all.”
I smile gratefully. He’s so sweet. They both are, but I need to live my own life, and that’s not something I can do under their roof.
“I won’t miss the traffic,” I say with a smile, “but it’s morethan that. I love being on campus and being surrounded by people my age. I want the full experience of college life, even if that means living with roommates I wouldn’t choose.”
“But the Triumphant Travelers are your age,” Gran argues.
I hold back a snicker at the name they’ve chosen for the group. “Maybe chronologically, but we don’t have much in common.”
“That’s because you hardly know them, dear. Trust me, you’ll love them all. Thomas is really exploring his adventurous side. Did you know he had two servings of Grandad’s Buffalo chicken dip?”
“Two tortilla chips is not the same as two servings, Carol,”Grandad corrects gently. When she shoots him a look, he clears his throat. “It’s a start, though. And that batch did pack a punch.”
“Good for Thomas,” I say, meaning every word. “I’m glad he’s branching out. And they do seem like a nice group of people, but since I’m not traveling with them, there’s really no reason for me to socialize with them every week.”
Gran purses her lips and Grandad stares at his cinnamon roll. Finally, Gran can’t stand it anymore.“Oh, but there is. You haven’t even met Stephen yet. Or Philip—he teaches geography. Isn’t that just perfect? You’ll get to know him if you decide to go on the trip. We do wish you’d reconsider, dear. So many of the destinations are places you’ve talked about seeing.”
“Yes, but the whole point of traveling is to do it on my own. I don’t want someone else’s itinerary to dictate my every move. I want an adventure, not a vacation.”
“Fine,” she concedes, though I know for a fact that I haven’t heard the end of it. She’s only pausing, not stopping altogether. “We’ll drop the subject on the condition that you stop this silliness about moving back to campus, at least until you’ve found a nice place to rent or some girlfriends to move in with. Staying at The Chapel is ludicrous. What will your mother say? She’strusting us to look after you while she’s with Emersyn, and we take that responsibility seriously.”
I hold back the eye roll that’s threatening to escape. Once again, they’re treating me like a child.“Mom will be fine with it. It was her idea, after all,”I say. “Back when she gave the place to Booker, she made him promise to keep rooms for Em and me if we ever decided to enroll at Bainbridge. So, my decision already has the Kim Nolan stamp of approval.”
My grandparents exchange a quick glance. I’m laying it on a little thick, and we all know it, but it’s important to me that they see me as a woman who makes sound decisions, and not as the teenage girl who made reckless ones.
For a moment, the air is thick with memories. Memories of a time when I thought I knew best, when I exercised poor judgment, and when I trusted the wrong people. I’d always been a bit of a risk taker. I’m not cautious like my brother. I skirted the line and managed to have a whole lot of fun without getting into too much trouble. My teenage years were filled with typical rebellion like missing curfew and experimenting with forbidden fruits like sex and alcohol.
It used to drive my father crazy, and that’s probably why I took as many risks as I could. Every time he tried to control me, I pushed back just as hard, if not harder. So, when my parents divorced, and I was finally free of him, I should have relaxed or at least started playing by the rules. I wasn’t wise enough to see things clearly back then, so I took the little taste of freedom that I had, and I ran with it.
