Page 61 of Isabella and the Slipper

“I don’t want to be an actor.”

There. He’d said it.

His mother’s shocked face stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I hate standing around, waiting all day for my part. I hate shooting the same scene over and over.” He poured the cereal into the bowl and pulled out the milk.

“You’ll like the bigger roles better. Less waiting.”

“Mom! Stop trying to push me into something I don’t want.”

His mother’s mouth snapped shut and she blinked, placing her hands on the newspaper. “I ... I didn’t think that’s what I was doing. I thought you liked this.”

“No, Mom.Youlike it.” He sat down on the chair opposite her, finally feeling like a weight was lifting off his chest. “At first it was kind of fun, but it grew old for me really fast. I don’t want to do it anymore.” He peered at her, waiting to judge her reaction.

She opened and closed her mouth without any sound coming out at first. Finally, she frowned. “But you’re so good at it. You have natural talent.”

“I have talent for other things, too. I like science. And I’m good at it. I want to go to college.” He dug into his breakfast.

His mother blinked and wiped at her face.

Was she crying? Oh no.

He didn’t mean to make her cry. “Mom ...” he said, feeling terrible. “Don’t cry.”

She waved his concern away. “I just didn’t realize ...” Her voice trailed off. “The first role you got, you were so excited.”

“I was, like, six.”

“You said you wanted to be an actor.”

“I also said I wanted to be an astronaut.” He stabbed his spoon into his bowl of cereal.

She looked down at the newspaper. “You’re right. I’ve been pushing you.”

“It’s okay, Mom. Don’t be upset about it.”

She smiled, her eyes still watery. “I thought I was your manager. I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in doing the job that I never realized it wasn’t the one I was supposed to be doing.”

He cocked his head to the side.

“My most important job is being your mother.” She stood and rounded the table, bending down to kiss the top of his head, her hands on his shoulders. “I’m proud of you, no matter what you want to do.”

His throat tightened. “Thanks.”

“I’ll support you in your decision.” She stood beside him and patted her curlers, sighing. “What schools are you looking at?”

“I’ve been looking at a few. I’m thinking about applying to UNH Manchester.”

Her face blanched. “Manchester, New Hampshire? Why so far away?”

His ears grew hot. Did he really want to admit it was because Isabella wanted to go to school in Manchester?

His mother got a funny look on her face. “Ah, I see.”

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