“Shhhh,” Dalia hissed at the customer. “Boy trouble. She’s gonna work it out with her friends.”
“No, thank you.” My voice sounded strained as I answered the customer.
“Been there. Let us know if you need one,” the nosy yet thoughtful customer said.
“I will.” I swiped at my eyes, then turned back to my friends. “Sorry.”
“Anyway.” Nittha shook her head, as if trying to remember her thought after such an interruption was a wearying task. “When was the last time you actually said to their faces that you want them to stop? Or that you want to do literally anything other than math for a living?” Nittha asked, her voice gentle even as her words stung.
I opened my mouth to respond, then paused as the ground started to fall out from under me. Had I ever actually told myparents what I wanted? Or had I simply assumed they knew? My mind wandered over every conversation we’d had about the SATs, college visits, and summer programs, searching for any moment when I’d spoken up. Car rides with Mom, Dad talking over TV commercials, even my sister prodding me about applying to live in the math-focused dorm at SISU with her…
Not once did I actually say no and stand my ground. I’d start saying no, then waffle as soon as someone questioned me. At the time, it seemed like everyone was badgering me, but what if they weren’t? What if they were trying to figure out what I wanted as much as I was? I’d been so busy protecting my dream that I’d never stopped to ask if I actually needed BamBam to guard it or if I just needed to have a conversation. I took a shuddering breath, trying to get control over another wave of tears as the realization that I had a role in my own unhappiness threatened to send me back into the puddle stage of crying.
“Jamie?” Nittha’s voice pulled my attention back to the screen. “My parents have all kinds of unsolicited opinions. They almost had a heart attack when I told them I wanted to go to school online and manage Cricket full-time, but after a couple of months, they came around.”
“I don’t think anyone’s parents are super excited about them not becoming the person they planned for. I mean, my grandma wanted my dad to be a doctor. He imports luxury olive oil.” Gabby frowned slightly. “Honestly, it’s probably better to tell them now than after they spend money on a degree you don’t use. My grandma doesn’t care about what my dad does now. She is still real mad about the cost of med school, though.”
“See,” Nittha said, waving her hand at the phone. “Besides,BamBam is not going to let anyone put you out of the house over being a film major or having a boyfriend a couple of months early. That’s not her style.”
“You might have a point.” I sniffed. The image of my parents putting my stuff on the curb and BamBam helping me move it right back into the house worked its way through my mind, making the corners of my mouth twitch up slightly.
“I know we have a point.” Nittha laughed.
A weak smile crossed my face. Now that I thought about it, it was a little funny that I’d ever thought my parents would blow up over this. If nothing else, they cared too much about what other people thought to publicly exile their youngest daughter. The worst-case scenario was they didn’t help with college. But Mom and BamBam had worked their way through school and been fine. Their support would be nice to have, but I’d figure it out if I didn’t have it.
“Speaking of BamBam…” Nittha said.
“Oh no.” I shook my head so hard that strands from my braid came loose.
“Oh yes. You didn’t think we could skip that giant waving red flag of a made-up judgment, did you?” Gabby giggled, then took a deep breath and set her face in a neutral expression. “How do you know she’d cut you off over Ethan?”
“Okay, you have to admit that I have good reason to believe that,” I said, holding up one finger. “You have personally seen umpteen GrannieGate meltdowns.”
“We don’t have to admit any such thing.” Gabby pushed her curls over her shoulder like she was brushing away my reasoning. “Her beef is with Buzzy, not Ethan.”
“BamBam blusters a lot, but has she ever actually gotten truly mad at you?” Nittha added, her brow wrinkling as she tried to think through my and BamBam’s history. “As soon as she realized you hated math camp and liked movies, she came up with a creative outlet for you. That doesn’t sound like a lady who cuts her grandkid off.”
“BamBam did do an entire video series on reasons she will fight someone for her grandkids.” Gabby snickered as the new-customer bell went off again.
“It was technically reasons any grandma will go off on a stranger,” I mumbled, not quite ready to process what my friends were saying. (We’d re-created outfits fromTekkenand shot her rocking back and forth on her heels. It was funny.)
“Okay, but the scenarios were all extremely specific and clearly about her grandkids, so…” Nittha shrugged as she dragged out theoin the wordso.
“True.” I sighed and swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. At this point, my sweatshirt was getting too gross to keep using as a tissue.
I’d started crying the second I saw Buzzy and Ethan get on our plane to go home. BamBam hadn’t said anything, just gave them a dirty look and threw her arm around me. She hadn’t even asked why I was upset. Just kept me sheltered until I fell asleep. It was the same thing she’d done for me as a little kid. We’d always been close like that. She didn’t need words to feel that I was hurt. She could always predict when I needed a hug, a joke, or a talking-to. I’d gotten used to BamBam reading my mind. But I was older now. This wasn’t the same as a skinnedknee or a bad grade. This was me wanting to grow up, and like with my parents, that version of me was a little different from what she expected. Again, maybe this time, I did need to use my words.
Dropping my chin to my chest, I shut my friends out for a fraction of a second longer as everything clicked into place. Ethan was right. I didn’t need to hide to be happy. Winning some prize wasn’t going to make the truth easier. I needed to be a little braver and a lot more honest. Both were risky in their own way, but at least if I said something, there was a chance I could be happy by my own definition.
I lifted my head up to catch Nittha and Gabby making wide eyes at one another’s squares like they were worried they’d finally broken me. Pulling myself up straighter on the bench, I sighed. “I messed up with Ethan, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Nittha said. “Big-time.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Gabby said simultaneously.
“Ugh, why aren’t time machines real?” I moaned as both of my friends nodded like bobbleheads. “Maybe he’ll develop amnesia and forget about the entire thing?”
“Or the what-happens-in-Vegas rule. It’ll be like the fight never happened,” Nittha added with too much perk to sound like she believed it.
