Page 133 of Goalkeeper
Satisfied I’ll wake with no issues, I lay a kiss on her forehead and close my eyes. This isn’t where I imagined I’d fall asleep tonight, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Paige
“So let me get this straight. If you don’t get, what, a 160 on the test, they’re no longer paying your tuition?” Spence leans back in his seat, left hand on the steering wheel, right hand on my thigh. We’re making decent time on the interstate. We stopped to gas up and grab coffee and donuts a few miles ago, but we’re back on the road, and Spence wants to know what my meltdown was all about.
“Pretty much. My tuition is paid through the semester, but I could be on my own or up to my eyelashes in loans by January,” I say, twisting a wayward curl around my finger.
“Can you do it? Get a 160?”
“That’s the thing. I mean, I guess I’m not trying my best, so theoretically, yes. I’ve always been a pretty good test-taker. But I don’t want to take this test. And I really don’t want to go to law school. I can’t imagine a future where law school is remotely interesting or tied to anything I want to do.”
He taps his fingers absently. “Have you told them this?”
“Only about a hundred times, starting when I was about 6. At first, it was cute. I was the offbeat one. The proverbial “oops” kid who marched to the beat of her own drummer. But when I kept voicing my opposition through high school and my first two years of college, I was suddenly painted like the petulant, ungrateful one. I honestly think they believed I’d give in. I’m sure they still do. But I can’t imagine anything more mind-numbing than dedicating my life to the study and practice of something that doesn’t remotely interest me.”
I’m waiting for his criticism. I’m sure to some people, I sound like a spoiled brat. I mean, my parents pay for everything and all they want in return is for me to earn a law degree—which they’ll also pay for. How bad a deal is that? I know I’m more fortunate than a lot of people. A bunch of the girls on my floor are on financial aid or getting loans, and I can tell that’s super stressful.
“What does interest you?” he asks, instead of telling me I’m being a whiny little bitch.
“Makeup.” I laugh. “But I can’t make a career out of that. I mean some people do, but I’m 21. How long is my channel really going to last? And I make enough now for spending money and to keep myself in killer shoes, but could I buy a house? Raise a family?”
He turns to look at me, and Lord, if I haven’t stuck my foot in my mouth.
“Not now, of course. But… I don’t know. I—”
“Relax. I know what you mean. You’re trying to figure out how to keep a brood of gingers in killer shoes. That’s a lot of pressure, I get it,” he jokes.
He takes the exit off the interstate, and it won’t be long until we’re back in Burlington. We talk about everyday stuff—our classes, our roommates, the fact that it’s supposed to be downright balmy at 50 degrees tomorrow.
A buzz sounds on my phone, and I stare at it as though it could bite me.
“I take it that’s your parents?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a breath and opening the text. I don’t want to read it—I just want to pretend none of this is happening and I’m the same clueless Paige I was yesterday. But sitting next to Spencer makes me feel braver, bolder.
I read the text.
Dad: Sorry you couldn’t stay for brunch. Jake said you took an earlier train because you had a study group to get back to. We were disappointed you missed breakfast, but we are glad you seem to be taking your education a little more seriously. There’s a lot riding on this test, and we hope you put forth your best effort. We know you’re capable, as long as you focus. But frankly, focus has never been your strong suit. You really need to buckle down over the next few weeks. We made our expectations clear last night. We’ll continue paying for your education so long as you earn a 160 on your upcoming LSATs and gain entrance to a reputable school. We’ll continue to check in with Justin about your progress. Have a good week and a productive study session tonight. Love- D&M
Wow, okay. I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, it’s basically what they said to me last night, but all I can think in my head isouch.
“Everything ok?” Spence turns to me a second, before returning his eyes to the road.
“Yeah, um. It’s fine.” I shrug and read him the text. “It’s nothing new, so why does it hurt all over again?” I say, blinking back tears.
He squeezes my thigh. “You know, babe, I never thought we had a lot in common.” His words alarm me. Yeah, he’s right, but this can’t be leading anywhere good, and I need more drama like I need electric blue mascara, which is to say, not at all.
“Yeah?” I say with hesitation.
“But it turns out, we both have daddy issues.”
I laugh, but he’s right. His dad is constantly blowing up his phone to talk hockey or to pick apart every piece of his game. And while my dad is not remotely that harsh, he’s totally blind to the fact that I don’t want any part of the future he has planned for me. Wow. What a pair we make.
17
Spencer
I was dragging ass at the rink today. The drive from New York took a little over two hours, so I dropped Paige off at her dorm, and made it to the rink in time to get some extra practice in. The team typically takes Sundays off. Since our games are Fridays and Saturdays, Sundays are for travel, if we’re away, and rest. But, I always come to the rink around noon for extra practice with Buddha and Will Gauthier, our goalie coach. Goat, as we like to call him, played for Moo U about ten years ago and was drafted by Montreal. He played a couple seasons, but now he works in finance and helps Keller and Coach B in his free time.
