Page 2 of Choosing You

CHAPTERTWO

SEPT. 4TH, TWO MONTHS EARLIER

I siton the blue vinyl seats of Ryan’s car with a bag of potato chips in my hand and a 20-ounce soda wedged between my legs, my bare feet resting against the dashboard. As I reach in the bag, Ryan snatches it from me.

“I’m cutting you off, Jade.” He tosses the potato chips in the back seat. “That’s your fifth bag in two days.”

“Yeah. So I like potato chips. Big deal.” I lick the salt from my fingers, release my seat belt, and reach over the seat to retrieve my chips.

“Hey, buckle up. And if you finish those, that’s your last bag. You need to start eating better.”

I roll my eyes as I resume my position. “You’re not a doctor yet, Ryan. You haven’t even started med school, so don’t start lecturing me on my health.”

He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand while his other hand grips the steering wheel. “I don’t need to be a doctor to know that a diet of potato chips and soda isn’t good for you.”

“Potatoes are a vegetable.” I chomp loudly into a chip but Ryan doesn’t notice.

“Damn, it’s hot.” He rolls his window all the way down, blowing even more warm, humid air into the car. A semi roars past us as we go down a hill, followed by two more after that.

“Put your window up. I can’t hear the radio with all that noise.”

“If I put the window up, we’ll suffocate.” He rolls it back up halfway. “When I’m a doctor, the first thing I’m gonna do is get a car with air conditioning.“

“The first thing you’ll be doing is paying off your student loans.” I stuff more chips in my mouth.

“That’s true. I’ll probably be driving this thing for another ten years.” He nudges me from across the seat. “Not everyone gets a full ride scholarship to some fancy East Coast college.”

I shrug. “What can I say? If some rich guy offers to pay for your college you go.”

“He gave you the scholarship because you deserve it. More than anyone I know.”

“Don’t start, Ryan.” I focus out the side window, watching yet another state go by. We’re in New York now, driving past farm fields. I never realized how much farming went on in New York. Yesterday was the first time I’d ever been outside of Iowa and since then I’ve been to five states. From the interstate, almost every state looks the same. Big, open fields on both sides of the road. Then we hit Pennsylvania and the landscape got hilly and filled in with trees. New York is a mix of trees and fields.

Ryan rolls his window all the way up, muffling the road noise. “We’re almost there and I just need to say it one last time and then I’ll shut up.”

I sigh dramatically. “Fine. Hurry up.”

“I’m really proud of you, Jade. Most kids your age would’ve shut down after what happened. They would’ve dropped out of school. But you ended up the freaking valedictorian.”

“I know. I was there. Now are you done? Because none of that matters now. That was high school. This is college. I have to start at the bottom and prove myself all over again.”

“You won’t have to prove anything. You’re going to totally kick ass at that school from your first day on campus.”

“Okay, no more pep talks. I don’t need you boosting my ego only to have reality hit as soon as I get there. High school was easy. There’s more competition at college. And I’ll be going to school with spoiled rich kids who went to fancy prep schools and probably had private tutors their whole lives.”

“Hey, don’t get that attitude going before you get there. You haven’t even met these people. Give them a chance before you start judging.”

“Oh, please. Like they aren’t going to judgeme? I’m the Kensington Scholarship winner. Everyone knows that’s for charity cases.”

He rolls the window down again. “I doubt anyone there even knows about your past.”

“It only takes one person to find out and tell the whole school. Then I’ll be known all over campus as the poor girl from Iowa who at the tender age of 15 found her mom dead on the bathroom floor from pills and booze. They’ll think I’m just as crazy as my mom. And maybe I am . . .” My voice drifts off.

“Stop it, Jade. You arenotyour mom. You’re nothing like her. You’ve already accomplished more than she ever did.”

“Can we not talk about my mother, please?” I open my soda and it fizzes out the top and all over the seat. “Shit! I’m so sorry.” I hold the bottle up, wiping the soda off with my hand.

“Don’t worry about it. This car is thirty years old. This isn’t the first time soda’s been spilled on it.”

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