Unwritten (Page 58)

“It’s great they could all make it,” I say evenly.

Tegan smirks, watching the girls try to casually strike up conversation with her brothers. “I can’t take them anywhere,” she says affectionately.

I drag my eyes away from Blake and try to ignore the flutter in my stomach. Lord, he looks good today.

“When are you going to tell them?” I ask, turning back to her.

Tegan makes a face. “Not right away. I figure the Connor issue is more important.”

My good mood fades a little at the mention of her boyfriend. Connor is one of Dex’s band-mates, and the love of Tegan’s life. They’ve been sneaking around all year now, but she’s determined to finally come clean now that she’s eighteen. I want to be happy for her, but something about that guy just doesn’t sit right with me.

“Is he in town for this?” I ask, trying to keep my tone supportive.

“No, he’s still back in LA,” Tegan pouts. “It would have been too weird to explain why he wanted to come. But we’re going to tell everyone soon,” she adds, brightening again. “And then we can be together all the time. Especially if I’m touring with the band.”

“I can’t believe they’re getting played on the radio now,” I laugh. “It’s so weird to turn it on and hear Dex’s voice come out!”

“Don’t tell him that.” Tegan rolls her eyes. “His ego is already too big. I’m surprised he didn’t have to check it as excess baggage on the flight.”

I laugh, looking around. Now that this is our last day on campus, I feel a strange swell of affection for the place: the red-brick buildings glowing in the afternoon sun, the trees shading the spot where Tegan and I would always eat our lunch.

“Uh oh,” Tegan says. “I know that look. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft.”

“No!” I protest, “It’s just…the end of an era, you know?”

“Don’t you start too. My parents are bad enough,” I laugh. “They keep sending me articles about how skipping college will ruin the rest of my life. The way they say it, I’ll wind up a drug addict in the gutter, just because I’m not going to the Ivy League.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Tegan insists. “You’ll be great. We both will. After all, we made it through this hell, the real world’s going to be a breeze!”

We say goodbye for now, and then I go hunt for my parents. They planned a big dinner for me at my favorite restaurant in town, but I’m bracing myself for more lectures about my future plans. They can’t understand why I didn’t apply for colleges, and even though I’ve tried explaining a hundred times, they still don’t get it.

Maybe it would be easier if I had an alternative to pitch them, like Tegan. She’s practically an honorary tour manager for Dex’s band already, so it’s not a big stretch for her to want to go into the industry right away. But me? I have no idea what I want to do in life. My grades are good enough if I wanted to apply to school, but every time I look at a course catalogue, something inside me clenches up with anxiety. I just know that I can’t sign up for another four years of classes and dorms, and feeling trapped with a bunch of strangers and all their petty cliques—and all the pressure of grades too. The past four years, I’ve focused on making it through; now, I want to actually figure out who I am and what I want beyond simply “surviving.”

I find my mom under the archway of the East Wing, immaculately dressed in a cream shift dress and heels. “There you are, sweetheart,” she smiles, reaching out to grip my arms. “Look at you, you were so great up there. My baby girl’s all grown up!”

“I shook the headmaster’s hand, it wasn’t exactly hard,” I smile, ducking out of her embrace. “Where’s dad?” I look around. “Are you guys ready? I’m all packed up, but I want you to come meet Tegan and her family. I thought maybe we could invite them to dinner tonight?”

“That sounds great, but here’s the thing…” Mom pauses, and that’s when I see Dad over in the parking lot, pacing back and forth as he talks on his cell. He’s got his work face on, all frowning and determined.

My heart sinks. “We’re not staying for dinner,” I state.

“I’m sorry, but they need him in D.C,” Mom gives me an apologetic look. “Trade negotiations just hit a wall, and you know he’s got a direct line to the Commerce Minister in—”

“It’s fine,” I cut her off sharply. “I get it.”

“But you should stay,” Mom urges, “celebrate with your friends! I can have someone pick up your things for you.”

“But I wanted you to meet them,” I say, feeling small. I know that there’s big international politics that needs to be handled, but just once, I wanted to feel like I was the most important thing in their lives. “Couldn’t you stay? We could go meet Dad tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to go. You know he needs me.”

Maybe I need you too.

I bite back my reply. Mom has spent twenty years trailing my dad around the world. Sure, she has important jobs too, but he’s always the one calling the shots; his career controlling when they uproot and move on. I’ve always wondered if this is the life she’d choose for herself, if he wasn’t calling the shots, but there’s no point in asking. They’ve become a well-oiled machine together, hosting dinner parties and solving diplomatic incidents around the world.