Dad:Mess, checking in on that essay. Early decision deadline is coming up. Please provide an update. Thx
If I hadn’t been irritated, I would have laughed. Whenever Dad was serious about something, he texted like he was writing an email to the other partners at his accounting firm and not talking to one of his kids. If he really wanted to escalate the situation, he’d send it on the group text as if he were cc’ing someone’s boss. Holding my breath, I pulled up the document, took a picture of it on my screen, and typed back.
Working on it right now.
I could almost hear the you’re-not-taking-your-future-seriously-enough lecture I would get if I didn’t finish this before I got home.
Kina:Go Jamie! You got this. You are a smart girl and STEM needs you.
My sister’s reply came in lightning fast. It was so older-sister of her that I wanted to both throw my phone at a wall and hug her at the same time. Of course, she genuinely believed that I was about to be the next Mae Jemison or something. In her mind, I would be famous and successful no matter what I did, so why not study in the science, technology, engineering, or math fields with her. If it just happened that math aligned with Mom and Dad’s expectations, so much the better. Win-win for us all! It was sweet of her and also totally not what I wanted—no offense to Mae or NASA.
Mom:Just think how happy you’ll be when it’s done.
As if reminding me that future me would be grateful for their badgering. I was not convinced she was correct about this, much like my driver’s license.
Trevor:Hang in there!
My brother texted, followed by four GIFs of Muppets, cats, comedians, and a coffee cup with arms typing. I suspected he was less invested in cheering me on than he was in doing a chatcleanse so he wouldn’t have to be triggered by my dad putting pressure on any one of us to achieve the next time he opened up the family text. That thought genuinely did make me laugh.
Dad:Good. Looking forward to reading it soon. Love you.
I smiled in spite of myself. My dad had only recently started using emojis. Much like his business-formal texting, the emojis were kind of weird but also his way of implying lightheartedness when he didn’t immediately have a math joke on hand.
Love you, all
Gritting my teeth, I closed my editing software and focused on the document containing all my supplemental college essays, blinking at the cursor and trying to force myself to finish.
Taking a deep breath, I desperately tried to think of an answer to the question on-screen.
What are your career aspirations?
None were coming to mind that weren’t completely snarky, when someone knocked on the door. I jumped out of my chair and walked over to it with maybe a little bit too much enthusiasm. Plus, I was starting to get hungry again. Maybe BamBam was back and bringing me a muffin?
I threw the door open and froze. Ethan appeared startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to answer the door so fast. I probably seemed startled, too. After this morning, the only person I would have less expected to see than him at my door was Buzzy.
“Hi,” Ethan said.
“Hi.” I tried to hide my body behind the door. I still had on my glasses and my retainer, which would have been fine if not for the still-glitter-laced messy bun, Gatorade-blue running shorts, and oversized bootlegDoc McStuffinsT-shirt I’d stolen from my brother’s throwback T-shirt collection that I was sporting as an excuse for pajamas. Unlike my brother, I did not look cool. I wouldn’t even want someone to bury me like this.
“Is that a—”
“Don’t ask.” I cut him off, narrowing my eyes at the smirk crossing his lips.
“It’s kind of hard not to.” He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head.
“My brother was a fan.”
“Just your brother?”
I shook my head. “You can’t tell me you didn’t take some of your older sisters’ clothes.”
“Not the embarrassing ones.” Ethan grinned.
“You’re a very on-the-internet person, so if that is even a little untrue, I’ll find out,” I threatened. I glanced down the hallway as the elevator dinged, the sound sending my pulse through the roof.
“They’re probably still at brunch, so we’re good,” Ethan said, reading my mind. As he looked down at his shoes, his voice grew quiet. “I ran into Nittha and Gabby at Beginners Luck, and they told me your room number. I thought you might want this. It’s your coffee order. Not that there is any coffee in it.”
He held a cup out to me. I blinked at him. “You remembered my order?”
