Page 89 of Encounter

“Do it,” I said firmly. “If it’s what you want... youshoulddo it. Or you’ll regret it. Surely, your pops’ll let you abandon one useless course, ey?” Flashing my brows, I hoped to lure out that brave, lively part of him.

He hesitated—I could see the conflict behind those glasses—but eventually, a smile found its way on his face. “You... You’re right,” he announced resolutely.

That urge to touch his shoulder or hug him pulled me in closer again, but before anything could transpire, Kitty’s heavy jump from the cat tower caught both of our attention.

“Oh, well,” I said, clapping my hands together, happy for the excuse. She already eyed me. “Gotta feed the cat now, before she mauls me.” Laughing, I jumped off the bed and stretched. Galen sat in there, looking fairly content, which made me satisfied enough. “I’m gonna make breakfast. Eggs and bacon?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder as I paused in the door, holding the top of the frame with my stretched out arm.

He gave a shy smile and a nod. “Yes please.”

As I continued to the kitchen, where Kitty already assumed her typical position, impatiently waiting in front of the fridge, I pondered about how good my body felt. There wasn’t as much pain and stiffness as usual.

“Let’s get you fed, missy.”

Ifound a languagecourse and signed up the very next Monday.

I knew that the longer I left it, the more reasons to not do it my mind would come up with, so I bit the bullet, pulled out of my voluntary art history class and replaced it with Mandarin at my local community college.The further from the Conservatory, the better.

I figured not telling Dad was a good idea, but eventually, being the overbearing, control freak he was, he somehow found out. Surprisingly, he didn’t give me too much trouble besides some bickering and more disapproving looks.

Naively, I thought I would be good at it straight away—as if the shape of my eyelids was all I needed to acquire a new damn language. Beating myself up, I resisted the urge to listen to the critical voice in my head and quit after the first few lessons, and instead pushed through. Even if I was a little behind because of when I joined the course, I kept going. Studying at night, at Chast’s, and on breaks between lectures.

I got so busy with everything, I didn’t even realize how much I grew apart from Zola. At least not until she came to sit down next to me before the start of one of the classes.

“Hey,” I blurted out, looking up from practicing Hanzi characters. I honestly welcomed any distraction, and Zola’s energetic, lovely face was good enough.

Putting her bag next to me, she took her jacket off to get comfortable. I noticed her style changed in the past few weeks. Nothing drastic, but she was definitely much more daring and... herself. She seemed happy. “You’re still going at it, huh? That’s awesome!” Zola beamed, as supportive as always.

“Yeah.” Groaning, I closed the textbook and propped my head with my hand. Even though I was tired and could barely focus on anything after all day of heavy lectures, I had to smile, seeing her sit next to me again.

“I would expect you to be really good at these things—languages. You were always so much better at English than me.” She grinned.

“Oh, what are you talking about?! I feel like the more I learn, the less I understand,” I moaned, desperately spreading my hands over my books. Chast’s support and that small, spiteful part of me that felt like Dad would somehow win if I quit were the only things keeping me from folding down and giving up. Even though the pressure I put on myself wasn’t as bad as the one put on me by my family, it was still making me stressed and anxious, nonetheless. “You’re the one who speaks Swahili.”

“Ugh,” Zola grimaced with her eyes rolling back, “barely!”

“What have you been up to, anyway?” I realized how much I missed spending time with her. After what happened at the club, and how awkward it was after, I was probably lucky to still be her friend.

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