Page 56 of The Story Of Us

“I didn’t want to.”

I finally drag my eyes away from the cards to look at him and he’s staring at me with the saddest expression I’ve ever seen.

“If you’ll hear me out, I want to explain what happened.”

22

ISAAC

A FEW MONTHS AGO

“They’re not mine. I was holding them for Luke.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me. Do you think we haven’t seen the books in your room?”

I’ve never heard my father yell before, but I guess if anything was going to push him to the limit, this is it. I knew I was forgetting something when I came back to school after a weekend at home. I’d requested brochures from a few different art schools, and the plan was to grab them as soon as I got home to bring them back to school with me. But I forgot all about it, and now they’ve found them.

“The books are from school.” I try my best to think of more lies to tell them to hide what I’ve done, but they see right through me.

“Stop lying, Isaac.” My mother’s voice this time, and even though she’s not shouting, her coldness stops me from trying to say anything back. “Tell us why you were looking at other schools.”

I hesitate, trying to figure out a way to explain it without telling them that I don’t want to go to Oxford. I thought I would have more time to prepare for this and build a case for why Oxford isn’t the best option for me, and even though I appreciate everything they’ve done for me, it’s not what I want to do. But I’m on the spot now, and I’m exhausted from having to hide it, so I tell them the truth.

“Because I don’t want to do Law, and I don’t want to go to Oxford either. I never wanted to. I was just doing what you wanted me to.”

It’s the loudest silence I’ve ever heard, and it feels like my ears are ringing as I grip the phone and wait for my parents’ response. I can imagine the looks on their faces, the weight of disappointment that feels like a living thing crawling through the phone to cover me right now. But I still want to justify myself, to try and make them understand.

“I like art, and I’m good at it.” My voice breaks as I attempt to prove myself, to appeal to them, and show them that my passions lie elsewhere, but I know it’s futile when I hear a scoff.

“You’re good at it?” I can hear the disdain in his voice and the ridicule, and I regret telling them, picking up the phone, and ever wanting something for myself.

“What does that matter? You can be good at anything. It doesn’t mean you throw away everything your mother and I have done for you.”

I want to scream, to tell them that they haven’t done anything except put pressure on me for the last few years. I want to tell them that it’s been my friends supporting me the whole time, that it’s been Violet. But the words don’t come out.

“Do we need to take you out of that school? I told you sending him there was a mistake.” He scolds my mum, and I hate that she’s getting the brunt of it, too, but she’s never been any help either. But then his words hit me, and I realise what he’s considering.

“You can’t.”

It rushes out of me, panic flooding my body as I think about what that would mean. There’d be no way I’d see my friends again or Violet when I’ve just had the most blissful year with her.

“Why not exactly? We’ll hire a teacher, and you can learn at home.”

“You can’t. I have to stay here.” My voice keeps cracking, and I know I sound like a child throwing a tantrum when their toys get taken from them, but I can’t let them do this.

“We’ll call the school on Monday and tell them that you’re spending the next year at home so you can focus. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

My head starts spinning, and it feels like the room is closing in on me. I pull the phone away from my ear, pressing the red button to end the call before throwing it on the bed. It starts ringing again, but my hands are wrapped around my body as I try to physically keep myself together because it feels like I’m falling apart and the world is crashing down on me. I end up leaning against the wall to try and keep myself upright, but then the phone rings again, and my legs give out as I slide to the floor.

I clench my eyes shut and cover my ears with my hands to try to drown out the noise. I can hear my name being called, but it sounds foggy like it’s coming from a thousand miles away. I wonder how my parents managed to get here so quickly to tear me away from my home.

“Isaac, what’s wrong?”

My hands are tugged away from my ear and when I open my eyes, Luke is crouched in front of me, worry lining his face. He puts his hands on my shoulders and keeps calling my name, but I can’t say anything back. I just stare at him wide-eyed as he gently shakes me.

“Isaac, talk to me.”

I manage to croak out his name just before the phone starts ringing again, and then I’m tucking my head between my knees, trying to block out the noise. Luke takes his hands off my shoulders, and the noise stops. He comes back to me and takes my hands from where they’re wrapped around my knees.

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