Home > Along for the Ride(67)

Along for the Ride(67)
Author: Sarah Dessen

There had been a time when I liked my mother to think we were similar. Even craved it. But hearing this, I felt a weird twinge, something not settling right. What I was doing with Eli wasn’t like her and her graduate student(s).

‘So,’ I said, shaking this off, ‘how’s Hollis doing?’

She sighed, loud and long. ‘He’s insane. Completely insane. I came home yesterday and do you know what he was doing?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Wearing a tie.’ She gave this a minute to sink in, then added, ‘She had him interviewing for a job at a bank. Your brother! Who this time last year was living in a tent on the side of a mountain in Germany!’

It was just too easy to get my mom off my back these days. One mention of Hollis, and she was off and running. ‘A bank,’ I said. ‘What’s he going to be, a teller or something?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said irritably. ‘I didn’t even ask, I was so horrified. He did volunteer, however, that Laura thinks employment might help him to be “more responsible” and “prepared for their future together”. Like that’s a good thing. I don’t even think this is a relationship, it’s so dysfunctional. I don’t know what to call it.’

‘Call it chicken salad.’

‘What?’

Too late, I realized this had slipped out, without me even realizing it. ‘Nothing,’ I told her.

I heard footsteps, and looked down the hall just in time to see Heidi and my dad coming upstairs. From the looks of it they, too, were having a pretty intense conversation: my dad was throwing his arms around, his annoyed face on, while she just shook her head. I eased my door shut, switching my phone to my other ear.

‘… ridiculous,’ my mom was saying now. ‘Two years of culture and travel, and for what? To sit and process deposits all day long? It’s heartbreaking.’

She really sounded sad. Still, I couldn’t help but say, ‘Mom, most people Hollis’s age have jobs, you know. Especially if they aren’t in school.’

‘I didn’t raise either of you to be like most people,’ she replied. ‘Don’t you know that by now?’

I had a flash of myself the night before, standing at the Park Mart with Eli, in the toy section. He’d stopped by a big display of rubber sport balls, pulling one out and bouncing it on the floor. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘Hear that?’

‘The bouncing noise?’

‘It’s more,’ he told me, ‘than a bouncing noise. That is the noise of imminent pain.’

I looked at the ball, still moving up and down under his open palm. ‘Pain?’

‘In dodgeball,’ he explained. ‘Or kickball, if you were playing the way we did.’

‘Wait!’ I said, holding up my hand. ‘I have played dodgeball. And kickball.’

‘Really.’

I nodded.

‘I’m impressed. And they aren’t even indoor sports.’

‘Oh, it was, actually. At school, in the gym.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘What? It’s the same game.’

‘Actually it’s not,’ he said.

‘Come on.’

‘Seriously. There’s school rules, and neighborhood rules. The two are very different.’

‘Says who?’

‘Anybody who has played both,’ he said, tossing the ball back. ‘Trust me.’

Now, my mother took another sip of her wine. ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ she said. ‘A packet has arrived for you. From Defriese. Orientation information, I’m assuming. Would you like for me to open it?’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

There was the sound of paper tearing, then crinkling. She sighed. ‘As I suspected. Meal plan info, updated transcript requests, a roommate questionnaire… which is due at the end of the week, apparently.’

‘Really.’

‘For God’s sake.’ She groaned. ‘It’s like a compatibility test! “What activities do you enjoy?” “Would you say you are a workaholic, or more carefree with your studies?” What is this, higher education or Internet dating?’

‘Just stick it in the mail to me,’ I said. ‘I’ll get it back as fast as I can.’

‘And if you’re late, you’ll end up with some carefree, activity-loving roommate. We’re better off filling it out now,’ she muttered. ‘Oh, wait a moment. There’s a second page here, where you can request “alternate living arrangements”.’

‘Meaning what?’

She didn’t say anything for a moment, busy reading. Then, ‘There are certain floors and dorms you can request where everyone has a specific focus, such as foreign languages or sports. Let me just… ah. Perfect.’

I heard a pen scritching. ‘What’s perfect?’

‘The Pembleton Program,’ she replied. ‘I just signed you up for it.’

‘What?’

She cleared her throat, then read aloud. ‘“Housed in a dorm removed from the main campus, the Pembleton Program offers academically strong students an environment dedicated solely to their studies. With single rooms, on-site research materials, and close access to both libraries, members of Pembleton are free to focus on their work without the distractions of regular dorm life.”’

‘Which means…’

‘No roommate, no parties, no nonsense. It’s just what you want.’

‘Um,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. It sounds kind of restrictive, don’t you think?’

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