Page 113 of Counter Bet

Why am I so fucking stupid?

I breathe deeply and take a moment to compose myself before starting the engine and driving the short journey home. The streets pass in a blur. My mind wanders. Will they ever forgive me? And after graduation, what then? I’ll still be thousands of miles away, and Dallas will still be here. Alone.

I drum a beat with my fingers on the steering wheel and rest my elbow on the door.

At the very least, I have to save our friendship. Maybe we don’t have a future together past graduation, but I don’t want this to be Ben and Dallas’ last memory of me.

* * *

The sun is setting over the horizon when I pull into my driveway. It’s a quiet evening. The neighborhood children that usually play out in the street are nowhere to be seen.

I put the car in park as the front door opens, and my mom descends the front steps, carrying a thick envelope in her hands.

I gulp. Mom has my future in her hands.

Literally.

I take a steadying breath, then get out of the car and meet her halfway. Neither of us says a word as we stare down at the envelope in her hands.

My younger sister laughs loudly from somewhere inside the house.

“I’m scared, mom,” I whisper.

She places the envelope in my hands and smiles softly. “I know, sweetheart. Let’s open it together, shall we.”

I nod, tearing the seal. It’s a thick envelope, so I’m not surprised when I stare down at the acceptance letter in my hands. This is it. I’m officially leaving this town. I don’t know how to feel. Excited? Terrified? A bit of both?

“You got in,” my mom breathes next to me, pressing both of her hands to her mouth. Her eyes fill with tears that threaten to spill over like a dam. “Oh my god.”

“Mom?” I whisper shakily, and she pulls me to her, crushing the letter between us.

“Ssshh, sweetie. I’m so proud of you!” She strokes my hair.

The setting sun casts an orange glow over the front lawn, highlighting the fresh lawn stripes.

She leans back and cups my cheeks. “The world is yours, sweetie. Go grab it. I know you’re scared. I am too. But don’t let fear hold you back. If you fail, which you won’t, then you can always come back home to us. This will always be your home to fall back on when life gets rough, but darling… You have so much fire in you. So much potential. You can do anything you set your mind to. This is a fantastic opportunity. You’ll learn new things, meet new people and gain new experiences.”

I blink through my tears. “Thanks, mom.”

The door opens, and dad steps outside. He looks at our tear-streaked faces with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.

I laugh, and mom soon joins in.

Dad looks from mom, to me, to mom. He clears his throat. “I can go back inside.”

“No,” mom smiles, holding her hand out to him.

Dad walks toward us hesitantly. He takes the acceptance letter when I hold it out for him, scans his eyes over the text, then looks at me questioningly. “Art,” he says, but it’s not a question.

I nod. “Yes, dad.”

He glances at my mom for a moment before pinning me with his eyes, not unlike my own. “I don’t know what to say, pumpkin.” He swallows thickly, then shakes his head as if to clear it. He hands me the envelope and puts his hands on his hips. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Please don’t be mad, dad. I didn’t tell mom either. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I know you and mom have different expectations of m—”

He holds his hand up. “Let me stop you right there, kid. Where is this coming from?” He searches my eyes. “I know I haven’t always been the easiest on you. I have pressured you to perform well at school and in life in general, but it’s never been my intention to make you feel as though you can’t pursue your own dreams. Art school…” He shakes his head disbelievingly. “I didn’t see it coming, but I’m not surprised either. The house has been covered in your drawings and paintings ever since you were old enough to hold a crayon in your hand.

I’m not going to lie and say I necessarily think it’s the best career path to pursue, but if it’s what you want, then I support you, pumpkin.” He pulls me into one of his rare hugs that I love so much, and I breathe him in, fighting back the tears. “Kiddo, you have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself,” he whispers. “No one expects you to be perfect all the time. Life requires you to make decisions for yourself that may not make everyone around you happy sometimes.”

“Why is Emily sad, mommy?” my little sister asks, and her cute pigtails bounce as she descends the steps.

Mom picks her up, kissing her chubby cheek. “She’s not sad. She’s happy.”

My sister twists in her arms, reaching out for me. She settles on my hip and squishes my cheeks together with her small hands. “Why are you crying if you’re happy?”

I rub my nose against hers. Eskimo kisses are her favorite. “Sometimes we cry when we’re happy. But they’re good tears. Happy tears.”

She giggles. Her innocence is refreshing. It’s hard to imagine that I used to be equally as innocent back when Rick and I were young kids with scraped knees and mosquito bites who used to race our bikes and build dens.

“Come on,” my dad says, lifting his chin toward the house. “Let’s go inside and have dinner together.”

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