I nod in resignation. “Thank you anyway.”
“I’m very sorry, uh…”
My face burns. “Sasha.”
I’m fuming mad when I leave Dr. Conlon’s office. I’m just as smart as Mason, and my grades are comparable to his, but for some reason,he’sthe one who gets all the recognition, while Dr. Conlon can’t even remember myname. It’s so unfair. Mason gets every advantage in the world handed to him on a silver plate, and I get nothing.
The next day, I start putting dopamine capsules in Mason’s coffee again. Except this time, I put in two instead of one.
82
I decidedI wanted to be a doctor when I was seven years old.
Dad was teaching me how to ride a bike. All my friends already knew, and I felt left behind. I was using my sister Nadia’s bike, which had previously been my other sister Alina’s bike until she outgrew it. The bike was white and once had pink stripes on it, but now, it was gray, with most of the pink worn away. Everything I owned had previously been owned by two other people and had that same grayish tinge.
Dad was doing that thing with me where he’d start me going on the bike then let go when I wasn’t paying attention. I kept making him promise he wouldn’t let go, but he’d do it anyway. In retrospect, I realize it was for my own good. But at the time, it was making me very nervous.
Each time I discovered he was no longer holding onto the bike, I’d panic and lose control and ultimately fall. One of those times, I fell right on a broken bottle. My bare leg was all cut up and bleeding, and Dad rushed me to the nearest emergency room.
I was fascinated when the doctor in the ER fished the pieces of broken glass from my leg and sewed up a particularly deepgash, from which I still have the scar. I didn’t even cry. And what fascinated me even more was how much my father seemed to respect the doctor, almost to the point of being awed by him.
As soon as the doctor had left the room, I said to my father: “I want to be a doctor when I grow up.”
Dad was completely floored. He came to this country as an immigrant, mostly working blue-collar jobs, and he always wanted something better for his kids. Especially me. He wanted me to reap all the benefits that this country had to offer.
I can still picture my dad rushing into the hallway of the ER and yelling to whoever would listen, “My daughter is going to be a doctor!” He told two doctors, three nurses, an orderly, and the guy selling hot dogs outside the hospital before we made it home.
My father may not have made it to my med school graduation, but he’s watching over me. And I want to make him proud.
Okay,I admit it: I’m still sneaking off to the locker rooms with Mason.
What can I say? I’m lonely, and Mason is really hot. Why should I deprive myself? It’s just casual sex. It’s not like we’re in a relationship.
Or at least, that’s what I think.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Mason asks me as we button and tuck in our respective clothing.
“Studying,” I say with a smile. “Why?”
“My parents wanted me to come over for dinner this weekend,” he says, “and I thought maybe… you’d like to come with me…”
“To yourparents’house?”
Whoa, that is intense. I don’t want to meet his parents. We haven’t even been on adateyet.
“Well, my mom wanted me to bring my girlfriend and…” He looks away, his face turning an endearing shade of red. “I mean, we’d just be going as friends, though. Just so you could help me get through the night. I mean…”
Ah, he’s cute when he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t really think of me as his girlfriend, but this is another sign that this is a little bit more than casual sex for him. Maybe this all means more to him than it does to me. I can’t help but feel flattered. And guilty.
“Come on, aren’t you curious?” Mason says.
Okay, he’s right. Iamcurious. What are the parents of a guy like Mason Howard like? So against my better judgment, I agree to go.
I’d die if Mason knew this, but I spend hours agonizing over what to wear for the dinner. I literally try on every outfit in my closet, which, sadly, doesn’t take very long. At school, I always wear jeans. I want Mason to look at me tonight and think,Wow.
Unfortunately, I don’t think there are any clothes in existence that will make him think that.
I finally settle on a fitted rose-colored blouse and lavender skirt that shows off a little bit of leg but isn’t too slutty. I dust off my one container of eyeshadow and apply a subtle layer of makeup. I look in the mirror after I’m done and decide that I look at least respectable. Mason isn’t going to wolf-howl at me or anything, but I’m hoping I at least don’t look like someone he’ll be embarrassed to be seen with.
