~ Chapter 9: Mia ~

"Why can't the Salazars know this is from you?"

Andrew was sitting next to me in the passenger seat of my car. Part of his newfound independence was that he was done accepting handouts from his parents which meant he wasn't driving the car they'd given him. I was so proud of him for everything he'd done. I felt like he'd grown up so much in just a few weeks.

A shiny, new blue knee scooter was in the back of my car. He'd gotten it for Pilar which may be one of the sweetest things he'd ever done. I was fully on board until I found out that he wanted me to drop it off instead of giving it to them himself. "Pilar told me they can't afford one, and they'd never accept it. I used the money Mr. Salazar's been paying me to watch Adrian, and he'd insist on paying me back just like he insists on paying me for Adrian. They need this more than I do."

I couldn't argue with that. I knew that Mr. Salazar was a proud man. He didn't like to take hand-outs. "You're right. Pilar is gonna freak."

He shrugged. "She didn't seem like she was in a great place a few days ago. I would've gotten it sooner, but it took some time to figure out how to get one, and I didn't want to have it sent to my house because my mom's home all day, and… she's been really weird lately. I bought some clothes a few days ago, and I found the bags in my dad's office."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Why does my mom do anything?"

"How'd you get it then?"

"I asked Francis to keep an eye out for it, and he held onto it until I got home from work."

"That was nice of him."

"It was and we wouldn't want his efforts to go to waste. You just have to drop it off and then we can go out."

"And you can't do it because…?"

"What if someone sees me? I don't have a reason to casually stop by there, but you do. You go every morning and night. It won't be as obvious with you."

"I think you're being ridiculous. No one would see you."

"Please."

I groaned. "Fine." Despite my earlier claim that no one would see him, I was on edge as I ascended the stairs. I weirdly felt like I was doing something wrong, especially as I dropped off the scooter. I was just going to sneak away, but I inexplicably got nervous. Mr. Salazar would be working for a few more hours. What if someone took it before they saw it? It was unlikely, but I didn't want to take the chance. With that in mind, I knocked on their door as loudly as I could and then ran down the stairs like I was escaping the building. I was out of breath when I got back to the car.

"What did you just do?" Andrew asked.

I didn't acknowledge him right away. I highly doubted Mrs. Salazar would be able to run after me to find out who dropped off the scooter, but I didn't want to take the chance, so I waited until Pilar's apartment was out of sight to answer him. "I knocked. I wanted them to find it right away."

"And then you ran because you knew I was right," he said smugly.

"Shut up," I muttered. "Where are we going?"

"Where do you want to go?"

I glared at him for a second before I turned my gaze back to the road. "It is not my turn."

"Are you kidding? I picked the last three times," he protested.

"Not true. I chose ice cream yesterday."

"After I gave you options!"

"Then give me options."

We ended up driving around until we were out of Atlanta near a small diner we'd never been to before. We did a lot of driving around these days. Part of it was that Andrew was almost always too exhausted to do anything that involved much of anything after work – he was regularly going to sites with Mr. Salazar and had definitely picked up a bigger role at work. The other part was that California was hanging over our heads. I was leaving in a week, and it was like it was sucking the air out of every space we walked into. It was hard to be too tired to talk about California and then still try to find the energy to do something.

I felt the sane way with Lake. I knew they were trying not to put pressure on me, but it was like they were pretending I wasn't going to California and like I didn't need to figure out if I'd eventually be moving there for good.

Even Pilar was hard to read. She didn't avoid talking about it, but she always seemed frustrated after we talked about it. I hoped the scooter would help. Maybe she wouldn't feel like I was leaving her hanging for a week which she pretended was her biggest grievance with my trip. I'd suggested that Lake step in for me once, and she'd given me an angry look that honestly gave me chills.

I alternated between being so excited to see my dad, Veronica, and Kyle to being terrified to leave Atlanta. Part of me just wanted to get my trip over with in the hopes that the right answer would magically present itself to me.

The only person that made me feel remotely okay about my looming decision was Victor. I knew he didn't fully understand, but he tried, and he always made time when I wanted to talk. I'd been calling him daily recently.

It was practically my ritual to call him on the way to help Pilar, and today was no exception. It was the first time he hadn't answered me… I thought ever. Well, at least since he stopped avoiding me when we were still dating. After we broke up, he always answered me. Every single time.

He texted me just as I was pulling in front of the apartment and his FaceTime came through half a second later. I answered and couldn't help my laugh as it looked like he was sitting in a room that belonged to a little kid. "Where are you?"

He made a face. "I'm escaping a mandatory fun night." He rolled his eyes. "I think they're afraid we're all gonna get drunk and spend all our free time partying or something."

"You mean like you did on Saturday after you found out Benji wasn't coming home?" I questioned. He'd called me to "swear" me to secrecy and tell me about Benji's tour being extended. I knew I shouldn't have found it so funny, but there was genuinely something hilarious about Victor drunkenly pining over Benji. I mean, the words, "he's like ice cream except better" came out of Victor's mouth. Actual words that made sense to him to speak. I still wasn't sure I understood exactly what he was getting at, but I'm so glad he tried because I needed to laugh the way I had that night.

He groaned. "Don't remind me. It was my first time drinking since my birthday, and it was miserable. I think I'm still a little hungover."

"It was two days ago. I don't think that's actually possible. And you still didn't tell me where you are."

"Oh. I think it's old prop storage or something. It's weird because it's nowhere near the artsy side of campus. Maybe this used to be the theater or something. Everything in here is really dusty, so I don't think anyone's used anything in a while."

"Does being around gross, dusty things help?"

"Yes, actually. Sometimes I need a break from mandatory fun, and I kicked the door one day and discovered the lock was broken so I could just go in."

"You kicked… would you care to explain?"

He shrugged. "There was one of those dumb motivational posters on the door about being a team, and it got to me. This program can be a lot. I feel like, outside of my friends, everyone here hates me even though they don't know me. Half of them hate me because I'm gay, half of them hate me because I'm ranked second, and half of them hate me because everyone else hates me."

"That's three halves. Aren't you supposed to be the smart one," I teased in an effort to cheer him up. It worked.

"Sorry. I shouldn't complain. I know how lucky I am to be here."

"You can feel lucky and still feel like everyone there is kind of shitty," I told him.

"Can I?" he asked uncertainly.

"Of course." I thought it was actually the way of the world because I knew I was lucky to have so many people that loved me, but it still sucked to have to choose between them. "What mandatory fun do they have in store for you today?" I'd thought he'd been joking the first time he called it that, but then he'd shown me a calendar they'd been given that was actually titled "Mandatory Fun". It sounded pretty awful.

"We're doing something called the human knot. I don't know; it's supposed to help us work together or something. I've never heard of it before. It's where you –"

"Grab someone's hand and untangle yourself. I know. My third-grade teacher had us do it once a month to work on our problem-solving skills. She promised us pizza if we could untangle ourselves in five minutes. It took us all year to realize that the obvious problem-solving strategy was to grab the hand of the person next to us and step back to make our circle." I couldn't help the wave of nostalgia that washed over me. "That had been her goal all along. She said we needed to think outside the knot. When things are tangled, it's hard to figure out where to start and sometimes things fall apart, but the important thing is to keep trying."

"You got that in third grade?" Victor asked incredulously.

"No," I admitted. "It didn't mean anything to me at the time. Honestly, I think this is the first time I've thought about it since I left her class, but she wasn't wrong, was she? She'd never get away with teaching that to older kids though. Did you get all of that out of your knot?"

Victor snorted. "We didn't get that far. You called when they were having a really fun debate about whether they should have to hold someone's hand if they didn't want to – cue them looking right at me just so they can be sure that I know that they think I'm the problem not them."

"Really? Wow. People suck." I could understand not wanting to touch other people, but they shouldn't use Victor's sexuality as the reason. I hadn't understood why Victor struggled to come out, but then things like this remind me that he's constantly reminded that once some people know, all he is to them is gay. It's so messed up. It's not like he's going to enjoy touching a bunch of jerks either, but he'd suck it up… or he'd hide in this random room. He would never make someone feel the way they try to make him feel.

"They really do," he said glumly.

"At least you have what looks like a murderous rabbit to keep you company." He looked over his shoulder and pulled a stuffed animal off the shelf. He held it up to the camera which didn't help me figure out what it was supposed to be.

"I think it's the Cheshire Cat. Maybe they did Alice in Wonderland?"

"What Alice in Wonderland did you watch as a child and how did you not have reoccurring nightmares?"

Victor chuckled. "Aren't colleges known for their weird interpretations of stuff?" He turned the stuffed animal in his hand. "Or maybe I'm wrong."

"Probably."

"So, word on the street –" I raised my eyebrows at him. "Okay, my mom told me you got Pilar a knee scooter."

"I actually didn't," I told him sincerely.

He frowned. "Really? Do you have any idea how a knee scooter happened to appear outside of our apartment earlier?" I chewed my lip. "It was you!"

"No, it wasn't, but I do know who got it for her."

"It wasn't Felix, was it? Because my parents might actually murder him."

"Nope."

"If I ask, will you tell me?"

"Nope," I repeated. I couldn't help my smirk as I repeated the same thing he'd told me several times. "It's not my secret to tell."

"That's not fair. I can't argue with my own logic," he grumbled.

"Exactly."

A short silence passed. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah. Why?"

"You just got that look on your face like you wanted to talk about something, but I talked about my shit first so you don't know if you should. Go for it."

Sometimes, I was struck by how well Victor knew me. He knew me way better than most other people in my life. I liked to think it went both ways. I still wasn't sure how we'd gotten so close. After we'd talked last year, I'd expected us to be friendly but not like this. It was so much better than I'd been prepared for.

He must've been tired of hearing about how stressed I was about California, but he never let it show. We talked until Victor pointed out that Pilar was going to think I was standing her up.

When I knocked on the door, Mrs. Salazar answered. "You didn't need to do this."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I thought I played it off like I didn't know. Victor had dropped it, but I knew Mrs. Salazar never would.

"Pilar," she called.

It only took a second for Pilar to appear. I hadn't seen her that happy… maybe ever. I mean, I didn't think I'd ever seen her smile like that. Her knee rested on the scooter, and she used her good foot to come to a full stop in front of me. "No matter what they say, this is amazing, and you are amazing," Pilar said euphorically. "I am not giving this back to you."

I stared. "This wasn't me," I managed. "Oh my God. You're moving around so well. Do it again!"

Pilar didn't need much prompting to take a lap around the apartment. I wasn't sure if she'd been practicing or if the knee scooter was just that easy to use, but she was a natural. I knew Mrs. Salazar was watching us, but I didn't need to pretend to be surprised; it was honestly amazing to watch her navigate her apartment. I felt like she was a brand-new Pilar.

It took nearly an hour for me to convince her parents that I hadn't bought the scooter before they let me help Pilar get ready for bed. Saying I helped her was a stretch. She mostly showed off that she could almost do it all herself. Getting to her dresser, opening her drawer, and picking out pajama pants would have been a huge process just yesterday and, today, she did it with ease. As much as possible, I stayed back and let her try these things for herself.

I think she needed to feel like she could take care of herself again. I mean, she still needed some help because she couldn't put weight on her foot, so there were some things she couldn't do, but she did what she could.

She acknowledged that she thought she'd be okay while I was gone because she could handle asking someone for the little things, and she figured she could mostly handle the big stuff on her own.

It was simultaneously the longest and shortest week of my life. I didn't even know how that was possible, but it was how it felt. It was kind of like I felt like every day went on forever. The seconds dragged by during my weekly dinner with my mom, when Lake and I went to the movies, and through countless quiet moments with Andrew, my time with Pilar. It wasn't like I didn't enjoy it, but I felt like time moved slowly. Yet, suddenly and before I could wrap my head around it, Andrew was driving me to the airport. It didn't make sense.

It felt so weird to be leaving Creekwood. I was only going to be gone for two weeks, but it felt so much more final than when I'd taken off in November. Maybe because, as long as I'd been gone then, I'd always known I was going to come back here and this time, I wasn't so sure. I mean, I knew I'd be back. There was no way around that, but I didn't know if I'd be back for good or if I'd be back to pack.

The flight somehow seemed to last longer than the entire past week had even though it was only around six hours. I had a moment when I turned my phone back on because I forgot about the time difference and for a second, I convinced myself that the flight had only been three hours and that I'd imagined how long it had been. I had a feeling it was because of the intense swirl of emotions swirling in my chest. I didn't know how to feel right now, so I was just feeling everything, and they were making it hard to think clearly.

It was a relief when I finally touched down, like the anticipation was over. It was true that anticipation sucked.

My dad, Veronica, and Kyle were waiting for me right outside of the airport. They'd propped a sign on Kyle's stroller that said, "Welcome Mia!" and it was so cringy and so cute at the same time.

I ran to my dad and hugged him for a long time. When I pulled back, he said "Hey, bug" before he hugged me again.

Then it was Veronica's turn, and I didn't know if she was still hormonal or if she'd just missed me an unexpected amount, but she was all tears.

Then I tickled Kyle and he smiled like he recognized me which kind of felt like the best thing to ever happen. I'd been worried that he would have forgotten me because he usually spent half a second looking at the phone when I called and the rest of the time playing with whatever toy Veronica put in front of him, but I'd clearly been wrong.

"How's everything going? How's Stanford?" I asked.

"It's good," my dad said slowly. "It's so different than what I was doing before. I thought it would be the same type of thing, but being President of Stanford is so much more."

"You must be really busy," I observed. Would I move here just to have things be like they used to be where he was constantly choosing work over me? Would he be gone for weeks on end?

"Sometimes I am. It's not as much travelling because that's not part of my job here, which is nice. Everything I do is local. It means I get more time with my family." I guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought I'd been.

"It's been so convenient with Kyle," Veronica added.

Huh. I was spared having to come up with something to say to that when my dad said, "we're parked just over here. How tired are you?"

"Not too bad," I told him while we walked. That was apparently the right thing to say because he smiled big.

"Great. We have a sitter on standby and were hoping to take you out to dinner in a few hours. It'll give you some time to change and decompress, see your new room." Veronica elbowed him. "Not necessarily your permanent room," he hastily added. "Regardless of what you decide, we wanted you to have your own space."

"We weren't sure what you'd want to do the next two weeks," Veronica said, clearly trying to change the subject. "We have a few things planned but wanted to mostly leave it up to you."

"What kind of things?" I asked curiously.

"Well, I was hoping to take you on a tour of Stanford one day," my dad said.

"And I thought a girl's day out on Saturday would be nice. I'm in desperate need of some pampering. Your father can stay home with Kyle. We'll talk more about it all at dinner. Figure it out. Tomorrow, we're just going to explore the city, so you don't need to make up your mind about anything yet."

I looked at my dad. "You don't have work?"

He sighed. "Unfortunately, I do. It's orientation season, and I have to talk at all of them, but I'll join you later in the day."

Once we got to the car, they hounded me for information about the last month. I'd talked to them almost every day since they left, but they still insisted on revisiting old stories that I'd told them.

My exhaustion hit me right around dinner. It was a culmination about how poorly I'd slept last night and that this was probably when I'd be going to sleep if I was still in Atlanta. I managed not to fall asleep in my chair and, when I got home, I fell asleep before I even changed into pajamas.

Veronica let me sleep in the next morning which meant I got nearly twelve hours of sleep. After I showered and got dressed, I looked around my room for the first time. My dad had not held back. I wasn't sure if it was bribery or something else, but there was essentially a whole space that contained different art supplies. They were all unopened and I couldn't help but open the sketch book that sat on the desk. It smelled like new paper and part of me was itching to use the stuff now. My dad had clearly hired a designer because there was no way he or Veronica would have been able to replicate how everything was organized in here and the artwork hanging on the walls was perfect. Some of my favorite artists hung around me. Forget the rest of my bedroom, this space was amazing. Benji would freak if he could see it. Maybe he and Victor would be able to come visit me in Califo –. I abruptly cut off my train of thought, closed the sketch book, and walked away. I didn't know if I'd be here for him to visit.

I hadn't made a decision, but it scared me that that was the first time I'd definitively thought about where I might be in a month. I knew that was partially the point of California – to figure out if I could live here or if I even wanted to live here. I didn't know how I was supposed to figure that out.

Veronica was feeding Kyle something that looked like grainy yogurt when I got downstairs. "Morning," she said with a smile. "If you take over here, I can make you some breakfast. I wasn't sure what you were feeling. I can make pancakes or waffles or French toast."

"I'd be fine with some toast," I assured her.

"Nonsense. It's our first breakfast in California. If you don't choose, I'm just going to make everything."

I couldn't help my laugh. "Okay. How about French toast?"

"On it."

She passed me the glass jar. "You kind of have to get the spoon in and tilt it so he'll eat the oatmeal. He hasn't really mastered the whole eating off of a spoon thing."

"Oatmeal. That's new."

"Six months and we hit the magic milestone where we get to incorporate some solids. Nothing that needs to be chewed until he cuts some teeth, but he seems to like the stuff we've been trying to feed him. Your father says that it tastes like cardboard."

I took a seat in front of Kyle, and I honestly couldn't tell you if Veronica tried to say more because Kyle had my undivided attention. He was so stinking cute and smiled so big with every bite.

When we finished breakfast, we most walked around the neighborhood. The neighborhood they lived in was still partially under development, so when we walked further in, we passed several clusters of construction workers. They made me think of Andrew who very well could have been one of the people in hard hats if he'd been here instead of Atlanta.

The houses that were done were big and looming, most of them a stony pattern with various colored vinyl on the sides. I got to meet a few of their neighbors. There was one woman that said she had twins around my age (they were going into their freshman year, and I tried not to be too insulted by that).

One older man in a motorized wheelchair greeted Veronica warmly. He was holding a toddler in his lap and another man came running after them. The moment the second man got close, the older man moved his wheelchair forward, so they were just out of reach. The toddler started hysterically laughing.

Veronica chuckled. "That's Igor," she told me. "He's happily retired and living with his grandkids. They just moved in on Thursday. The man running after him is his son-in-law. He's a very proud stay-at-home dad."

"How many kids do they have?" I asked curiously.

"They just had a little girl maybe two months ago, and the older one is turning three soon. They invited Kyle to his birthday party."

"Is their mom already back at work? I'm surprised she's not out here." Veronica gave me a weird look. "What?"

"Igor lives with his son and his son's husband," she said slowly. "His son's probably inside with the baby."

"Oh." I looked back toward Igor who had allowed his son-in-law to catch up. It looked so normal, and I guessed that was the point. I shouldn't have made the assumption. "You seem close with your neighbors." I felt like I knew most of my neighbors in Atlanta but only by name. I wouldn't be able to tell you anything about them other than that the Wilkinses across the street had the loudest dog in existence.

"They've all been really welcoming," Veronica confirmed. "I don't know if that'll change as more people move in. There's only about a dozen families living here now. It'll be a good place to raise Kyle."

I could see that. The neighborhood was beautiful and seemed safe enough. He'd have friends too. Before we brought him in because he needed to nap, I met the pregnant woman next door as well. I'd been surprised by how many people we saw out and about, but I guessed there were a lot of people staying home with their kids.

We stayed out until Kyle needed to nap. They lived within walking distance of the campus, so in the afternoon, we went to this sculpture garden which was incredible. I was so distracted by one particular sculpture of a man lying down that I walked right into someone.

He went sprawling backwards and the book and bag of supplies scattered. "I'm so sorry," I said quickly. I picked up his book and started to hand it to him. "I really didn't see you there. I was looking at that sculpture and the guy looks so interesting… which you already knew. Sorry." He didn't take the book or acknowledge me at all.

It wasn't until he dropped to his knees and started feeling around with his hands that I realized… oh God. "I got it," I told him quickly. I looked at the book he hadn't taken from me and could see the raised bumps on the cover. There were bumps that made out something that looked like a circular blob, and I couldn't begin to figure out what the book was about. It looked like a textbook but maybe all books in braille were like this. As I started to put pallets of paint, paintbrushes, and pieces of charcoal back into his bag, I slowed down. "Wait. Are you an art student here?"

"Yeah. Why?" he asked.

"Aren't you… never mind."

He let out a laugh that sounded partially frustrated. "I am blind," he confirmed. I put his book in his bag and passed it to him so he could pull it over his shoulders.

"Then if you don't mind me asking… how do you paint?"

He frowned like the question didn't make sense to him. "I don't know. How do you breathe?"

"I just mean, how do you mix colors or know what you're making?"

"Oh. I don't do a ton with paint. I only have these for a summer class I'm taking. My professor had to special order those." I took a closer look at the paints and could see the raised bumps.

"What's your thing then?"

"I like to do sculptures," he told me. "My mom always believed that the best thing you could do for a kid was fill their lives with opportunities to be creative. Since I couldn't see, we mostly worked with sculptures." He shrugged. "She used to say that I could see more with my hands than most people could with their eyes."

"It's great that your mom introduced you to this stuff," I said softly.

"She was the best," he agreed. He looked wistful for a second. "This happened when I was five. I won't bore you with the details, but she never made me feel like I couldn't be exactly who I was before. She found programs for me and I pretty much grew up figuring this all out, so I don't need you to feel bad for me."

"I don't," I told him seriously.

He frowned. "Sorry. You caught me on a bad day."

"Well, I did knock you down and break your cane, so I guess that makes sense."

"You broke my cane?"

"I'm really sorry. It looks like it's in pieces."

"Can you hand them to me?"

I did and his fingers traced the edges of the pieces. "Would you mind helping me back to my place? I live on campus." He put them in his back pocket and, for a second, I was jealous at how big his pockets were. It wasn't fair.

"I'm going to take Kyle to your dad. Can you meet us there?" Veronica asked. She winked at me as she walked away. Not for nothing, you'd think she'd be more nervous about leaving her seventeen-year-old stepdaughter alone with a random man. Especially since I didn't know the campus. And I had a boyfriend. Seriously, Veronica.

"Is that your girlfriend?" he asked once she walked away.

"She's my stepmom. She's bringing my baby brother to my dad."

"Oh. Does your dad go here?"

"Sort of," I said. "Have you heard of Harold Brooks?"

His jaw dropped a little. "You mean Dr. Brooks? You're the daughter of the President?" he asked. "I feel like I should bow or something."

"I mean, he's not the President of the United States or anything, but yeah. He's my dad, and I should get to him. So, where do you live?"

"Actually, not too far from his office," he told me. "Do you mind?"

I tried to remember what I'd learned over the summer and offered him my elbow. "I might get us lost," I told him quietly.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. There are campus directories inside every building if you're worried about it, but if you tell me what we're passing, I should be able to navigate."

"Okay. We can try this," I agreed.

"So, mama, you got a name?" he asked once we started to walk. It was a weird feeling because I was hypothetically leading, but it felt like he was the one guiding us through campus.

"Did you just call me mom?" I asked.

He laughed sincerely this time. "I call everyone mama and papa. It's just a nickname. I picked it up from my stepdad. He does the same thing."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry. Uh, I'm Mia."

"Tito."

We walked in silence for a minute. "So, you sculpt?"

"Among other things."

"How'd you get into sculpting?" It hit me while I was asking him that he'd already told me. "Right. Your mom. You said that before."

"Yeah. My mom was incredible."

"Was?"

"She died when I was eight. Car accident."

"I'm so sorry."

"It was almost twenty years ago. I got really lucky though. My stepdad took me in and raised me like I was his kid."

"What about your dad?"

He stopped walking and a stony look crossed his face. "I don't talk about him. My stepdad is my only real dad."

It couldn't be more obvious that he didn't want to talk about it, so I asked, "was your stepdad into sculpting too?"

"No, but he never discouraged me." He chuckled. "When I started middle school, he somehow swung getting me into this exhibit with this sculptor I loved. Blind perks, you know, but she made a point of stopping to talk to me. She told me that I shouldn't let anyone tell me what I could and couldn't do. Then, she said this quote that she was famous for. 'At some point, I realized I wanted to do something that goes all the way around, something I can walk behind, something that makes' –"

"A shadow," I finished softly. "Did you meet Gertrude Barnstone? Like, the Gertrude Barnstone?"

"You've heard of her?"

"Heard of her? She's amazing. I've always wanted to do what she does . I can't believe you've met her. What was she like?"

We went back and forth about her until we were outside my dad's office. I knew we'd gotten there because I could see him and Veronica outside. "I don't think I'm taking you home."

"Nope," he said simply. "I was just doing the gentlemanly thing and taking you to your parents." He stopped walking. "Thanks for this."

"For what?"

"For talking about sculptures and walking with me. It was nice to meet someone that likes Gertrude as much as I do."

"Same. My friends, they try, but they don't really get it."

"I, uh, own my own studio. You should stop by someday. The kids would love to meet you."

"Kids?" I asked.

"I told you my mom believed that all kids should be able to express themselves creatively, and I wanted to pay it forward. I rent out a space on the first floor of an office building and during the school year, I have a guided arts program. Then, during the summer, kids can come in the mornings. I have a few parents that stick around to supervise and some of my buddies come to lead activities, but I'm always looking for more help."

"That… sounds incredible," I told him sincerely.

"It is," he agreed. He fumbled in his pocket with his free hand and gave me a business card.

"How will you get home?" He pulled the pieces of his cane out of his pocket and flicked them down rapidly. Suddenly, his cane was in one piece. I stared. "It was never broken?" I asked incredulously.

He laughed as he started to walk away. "See you around, mama."

I couldn't make myself feel mad about it because I really had enjoyed talking to him. I walked toward my dad and Veronica. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"You mean with the stranger you left me alone with? Haven't you ever heard of stranger danger?"

Veronica chuckled. "I know Tito," she told me. "I've never officially met him, but I've seen him around a few times and your father has vouched for him."

"He introduced himself to me my first day here," my dad explained. "The only student who went out of his way to welcome me."

"Oh." It did make me feel better that she hadn't just fed me to the wolves. "He gave me his business card. He owns a studio and teaches little kids art. I think I'd like to stop by tomorrow morning if you're cool with that."

"Of course."

My time in California evolved into me spending my days at Tito's studio and spending my evenings with my dad, Veronica, and Kyle. I didn't think I could ever get tired of the cycle. The kids that Tito worked with were amazing. There seemed to be different kids every day, some of them homeless, and Tito never turned anyone away. A couple of his friends came in every day. Some of them were soon-to-be seniors like me while others were his friends from college.

Kyle was so curious. We needed to keep our eyes on him at all times because, while he wasn't crawling, he was rolling, and he could roll himself all the way across a room in like ten seconds. It was amazing and terrifying to see it in action. He wanted to know what everything was and apparently what everything tasted like because it all went in his mouth.

Even things with my dad and Veronica were great. We had movie nights and sometimes we just sat and talked. I'd never really tried to have an actual conversation with them before. Usually, there was something specific to talk about: Kyle, work, etc. When we talked about things outside of that, I was kind of amazed by how much I learned about them.

I spent almost the entire day on Sunday on FaceTime with Andrew. I hated to miss his birthday, but I promised him we'd properly celebrate once I got back. He didn't ask me about California, and I thought it was better that way.

I couldn't pinpoint when I made my decision. I was always aware that it was looming; once my time was up in California, I had less than two weeks to figure everything out if I wanted to start the school year on time. I just wasn't sure when that decision changed from me having no idea what I should do to wondering if the path I'd chosen was the right one to walk. I think it was when I started to see my future in California more clearly than I could picture my senior year in Atlanta.

I could picture it when I met up with Tito and some of the kids from his summer class. They weren't all college students. Some of them were high schoolers just trying to figure out if they wanted to study art when they went to college before they applied to schools. When we got ice cream or when we went mini golfing on what I was sure must've been the hottest and most humid day of the summer, I could see a whole year of meeting up with them after school. I could see myself eating lunch with them in the cafeteria and seeing them in the hallway.

I could picture it after the walk we went on with Kyle while the sun was setting one evening. Kyle lasted approximately ten seconds before he was sleeping soundly, lulled by the smooth rocking of his stroller. We stopped on this bridge that overlooked a small pond with lily pads and a ton of ducks calmly floating around. As the sun set, the sky lit up with a vibrant medley of different hues. It was almost as bright as it had been during the day. It had been breathtaking, but more than the visual had been amazing, I felt so… I wish I had the word for it. Kind of like I felt so utterly normal in that moment; like I was just a normal teenager spending some time with her family. I wasn't sure my family dynamic had ever felt normal before. Maybe it was that I'd finally reframed this as my new normal. I wasn't sure, but I knew in that moment, I could see countless nights of us taking walks like this. I could see Kyle eventually being able to walk himself instead of in his stroller. I could see my dad teasing me about how I needed to get my nose out of my sketchbook.

I could picture it when Tito invited me to his birthday outing at the beach. I'd thought Tito was so much older than he was simply because of how he presented himself, so I was surprised when he celebrated his nineteenth birthday a little over a week after I got to California. I was equally surprised when he said he wanted me to come with them to celebrate.

The Saturday before we went to the beach had been rainy and gloomy. Veronica and I had spent most of the day with Kyle inside. We'd introduced him to Playdough and, while making sure he didn't eat any felt like a full-time job, it was so worth it from the giggles that erupted out of him every time he buried his hand in the dough. It was another part of the future I could see. Being there for all these little moments with Kyle. When I found out Veronica was pregnant, I'd always assumed I'd resent her and the baby and maybe I had for a while, but I couldn't imagine my life without either of them in it now. I loved Kyle so much, and Veronica was great. Victor had tried to explain how great it could be to have siblings, but I'd been skeptical. Now I knew he didn't do it justice.

In contrast to the day before, the day we went to the beach was beautiful. It was bright with picturesque blue skies and clouds so fluffy they looked like they'd been drawn in the sky. I couldn't imagine a more perfect beach day.

When we got there, we'd been advised that the water was still going to be rough, so they suggested we didn't go in unless we were experienced swimmers. No one seemed all that worried about it, and I quickly realized that was because swimming had sparingly been part of their plan and also because people in California were apparently part mermaid and could navigate angry waves with ease.

I stayed safely on the shore with Tito who claimed, "I never go swimming in water I can't see". Then he laughed for nearly a minute because he found his joke so funny. We were sitting on two beach chairs that I was pretty sure one of his friends had made because it looked like they were made out of bright duct tape and Logan had a whole Etsy shop dedicated to that. I was taking in everything here. The sounds of kids screaming gleefully, the seagulls, the warmth of the sun beating down on us. Tito pulled me from my thoughts. "You make a decision yet, mama? You gonna come work for me when school starts?"

"I don't know," I murmured softly.

"Yeah, you do," he said. "But you're not ready to say it. Which is fine." I wasn't sure if he was right. The more time I'd spent here, the more I could see my life here. The more I could see how I could accept Tito's offer for an after-school job and how I could spend my days going to school with some of Tito's friends who somehow also felt like my friends now and how I would see my dad, Veronica, and Kyle every day. He brought his hand to my cheek. The first time he'd done it, I'd been taken aback even though he'd asked for permission, but I knew he didn't mean anything by it. It was genuinely his way of checking in to see how I was doing when he couldn't see it for himself. He knew about Andrew, and he'd told me he'd been cheated on by his ex-girlfriend and he never wanted to put someone else through that. Honestly, I would've thought that Tito and I were the same person if it wasn't for his sense of humor. He definitely reminded me of Lake when it came to that. "It's my birthday. You shouldn't be frowning."

"Maybe this is how I smile."

He snorted. "Yeah. Sure." He stood up. "Walk with me?"

"Do I have a choice? I can't let you get lost in the ocean. This isn't Stanford." He knew almost every inch of the campus and could describe dips in the concrete, potholes, and obstacles that you'd encounter simply by walking from one building to another, but I doubted he had that level of familiarity with the beach. I offered him my elbow. "Did you need to put on sunscreen or throw on your shirt?"

"Why? Do you find this distracting?" He flexed, and I couldn't help my laugh.

"Okay, put those away," I teased. "It's really sunny out."

He squinted. "I can tell it's sunny, you know. It's kind of like my vision gets shadowy instead of being all dark."

"I didn't know that. You never said…"

"It's a different kind of sun here. Maybe it's the water or the sand, but the sun really is brighter. It's the only time I…" He shook his head. "Never mind."

"No, what were you going to say?"

"It's the only time I don't feel different."

"You are different," I said slowly. "But it's not because you can't see. It's because you believe that the world can be better, and you believe you're responsible for helping it get there. It's because you find yourself so funny. It's because you take random kids and help them believe that they are more than their environment. It's because there is no other person on this planet like you. You're special, Tito. In the best way."

"You're pretty great yourself, mama." He let out a watery chuckle. "Now look what you've done. I'm crying on my birthday." We continued walking. "Sometimes I miss it."

"Miss what?"

"Being able to see. It's been such a long time, and I don't know if the little I remember is accurate. Sometimes… No, not today. Today is a happy day. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Look around for some shells. The kids can use them to do a project this week."

I thought about pressing him for more information, but he was right. It was his birthday. I was surprised when I was hit with a longing for there to be more days in the future where we'd get to talk about this. I could see them. I could see us sitting around his studio with his motley group of friends. I could see us becoming best friends. He would never replace the friends I'd be leaving behind, but I wouldn't be alone here.

I could see my future when Shay, the tiniest eight-year-old in existence ran up to me shouting, "Ms. Mia! Ms. Mia!" Her braids swayed back and forth, her beads quietly clinking together, when she proudly showed me something she'd made with pieces of leaves. "I made this for you." It honestly melted me. I bit my lip when the back said, "to Meeya." She tried and had obviously made this without any help which just made it more special. I bought a picture frame on my way home and hung it up on my bedroom wall because maybe it was an eight-year-old's artwork, but to me, it was more beautiful than some of the most famous pieces of art.

The thing that solidified it was my last night in California. Nothing spectacular happened. After we put Kyle to bed, my dad and Veronica put on a movie. At some point, I started to cry because I realized I didn't want to go. I didn't want to go back to Atlanta and leave all of the people I'd met here. I didn't want to miss my family. I wanted to stay here. The certainty that filled me was unlike anything I'd ever felt. It was almost peaceful. I couldn't fathom how I was going to say goodbye to my friends in Atlanta or how I was going to manage not seeing them all the time, but I couldn't leave this. I mean, I could because I had to, but I knew I needed to come back. This was where I needed to be.

It was when my dad paused the movie to get more popcorn that I spoke. "I want to live here." I couldn't hear my words, so I wasn't surprised when they couldn't either and then my dad was in the kitchen, and I needed to wait. I felt like every sound of a kernel popping was agony. Had popcorn always popped so slowly?

I grabbed the remote because I didn't want to lose my nerve and use the movie as an excuse to avoid saying this out loud. I'd made up my mind; I'd probably made it up a long time ago, and I needed to own it.

When he got back, he took the spot between me and Veronica. When I didn't press play right away, I could feel him shift on the couch. Still, I didn't look at him. He didn't say anything which actually helped. I took a deep breath. "I want to come live with you." My voice was shaky, but I could hear myself this time, so I knew I got them out.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. "Are you sure?" Veronica asked softly.

I wiped under my eyes and nodded. "I don't want to leave Atlanta, but I can't spend a whole year away from you. I thought I was going to hate it here, and I didn't, and I know that this is where I want to be."

I pressed play because I didn't want them to make a big deal about it, but my dad was still beaming when the movie ended.

"Hey, bug," he said softly when I rose to my feet. I looked toward him. "Thank you."

I nodded before I went to bed. I was exhausted, and I knew tomorrow was going to be a day full of tear-filled goodbyes. Temporary goodbyes but goodbyes none the less. I slept better that night than I had since I found out my dad took the job at Stanford. I felt like knowing what I was going to do didn't eliminate my stress, but it minimized so much of it.

The next morning, the smell of pancakes wafted toward me as I went downstairs. I was surprised when my dad and Veronica were both in the kitchen. "I thought you would've left by now," I said surprised.

"I'm going in late and leaving early to get you to the airport. Make a plate and sit down. We wanted to talk to you," my dad said.

"What's going on?" I asked. I bypassed the breakfast display to sit down next to him.

He took Veronica's hand in his and, for a second, I was so sure they were going to tell me they were pregnant again. "We are so excited for you to come and stay with us," Veronica said. "It hasn't been the same here without you."

"But?" I guessed.

"No buts," my dad assured me. "We just want you to know that this doesn't mean you need to give up your friends in Creekwood. We know that that's where your roots are and that this wasn't an easy decision for you, so whenever you want to go back, you just let us know and we'll work it out. We can fly you out for the weekend or fly your friends here over one of their breaks. I asked a lot of you when I took this job, and I see your sacrifice… we see your sacrifice."

"You'd let me go back?" I asked uncertainly. I had been thinking of it as an absolute. As if I'd leave Creekwood and would never return. I hadn't considered the possibility that I'd be able to come back and see them.

"Of course. Not every weekend, but maybe we can arrange it once a month. Let you miss a Friday of school and spend the weekend there. I saw how fiercely your friends care about you." He frowned. "Especially that Victor. He does not hold back when someone he cares about is hurt."

"You mean Andrew." It wasn't the first time he'd interchanged their names even though he'd met Victor a handful of times and had known Andrew essentially since Andrew was born. I knew Andrew had confronted my dad about this, so I wasn't surprised he felt that way. I just wished he'd stop mixing them up.

"No, I meant Victor."

I scrunched my eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… when you were away on your trip, he was the one that told me I needed to let you work things out for yourself."

"I never knew that. Victor never said…"

"He probably didn't think to bring it up," my dad said dismissively. "I'd stopped by his apartment to make sure you weren't there a few days after you left. I think I interrupted a fight with his boyfriend; I could hear them shouting from the hallway. He told me he'd just talked to you the day before but that he wasn't going to tell me where you were. He said that you needed space and perspective, neither of which you could get if I made you come home and that I needed to own up to the fact that I made a mistake. He said whether I meant to or not, I'd hurt you and this is what you needed to do to heal. He texted me every time you called him just to let me know you were safe."

"Oh." I'd briefly wondered why my dad hadn't kept trying to call me. Once Thanksgiving rolled around, I never heard from him aside from a text to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving and a Merry Christmas. Now I knew.

"He's not a bad guy, that Victor," my dad said reluctantly. Honestly, I thought that was the highest praise he was capable of giving him because part of him would always hate Victor for what he did. "I thought you becoming friends with him was a huge mistake because I was never able to make it work with any of my exes, and he did you so wrong. I didn't think you could move past that."

I'd never actually heard my dad talk about Victor other than the vague, under-his-breath comments he'd made about how he knew Victor wasn't good for me after we'd broken up. "It wasn't his fault."

"Being gay isn't his fault. Cheating on you? That's all on him."

"It is," I agreed. "And I think he'll feel guilty about that for the rest of his life." I knew he hadn't really forgiven himself for that. It was one of the reasons I was able to forgive him.

"He should," my dad said adamantly. Veronica brought her hand to his elbow, and he took a deep breath. "All I'm trying to say is I may not like the guy, but I know you do, and I know that he cares about you. I don't want you to have to give up him or any of your other friends. It wouldn't be fair of me to keep you here when they are as much a part of your life as we are."

"And, if after you come here, you find it's too hard to be away from them, we'll understand, and we'll talk to whoever you might want to stay with to get you there," Veronica added. "We're hoping to sell the house in the fall so that might not be an option, but we can figure it out." I was pretty sure Lake's mom told my dad how often I slept at my house. It was hard to think when I was with Lake; plus, she was at a place with Lucy where I felt like she deserved her privacy.

"But not Andrew. You're too young to be living with your boyfriend," my dad told me.

I didn't know what I found so funny about that. Maybe that he'd thought Andrew and I were old enough to take off for months on a cross-country road trip, missing school in the process, but we weren't old enough to live together. My chuckle made Kyle laugh which made me laugh more which tore a laugh from Veronica and suddenly, we couldn't stop. All of us were sitting there, laughing at absolutely nothing. Kyle looked so pleased with himself; he clapped gleefully.

It was one of those carefree moments I thought I could only experience with my friends. What we'd talked about didn't make up for the fact that I'd had to make a choice in the first place, but I thought I forgave my dad a little bit more.

Because of our talk, I was running late and texted Tito on the way that I'd be there in a few minutes. I wasn't paying attention because I was just trying to get to the studio, so I missed all of the obvious signs of what I was walking into. Instead, I raced inside and stopped dead when I was assaulted with a chorus of "surprise!" It felt like every space inside was crammed with someone: all of Tito's friends, the people from his art class, almost every kid that I'd met working with Tito.

I was in awe when I looked around. I didn't know how they pulled this together in a day. There were streamers hanging from the ceiling, and someone must've been working with the kids when I wasn't paying attention to create cards for me that were hanging around the room. On a table to the side was a cake that could only be Penny's handiwork – she was one of the high school students in Tito's class and was going back and forth between art and culinary school. I'd had her cupcakes once – amazing!

It was surreal to me how close I felt with these people after two weeks. Time lost meaning as I tried to get to everyone there. When I couldn't put it off any longer, I found Tito. He was leaning against the wall and, if I didn't know better, I'd say he was people watching. As it was, he was definitely taking something in. I took my place next to him and nudged him with my elbow, so he'd know I was there. Most of the time, he could hear when someone was approaching, but I had a feeling it was too loud right now for that. "I have to head out. You didn't need to do this."

"Of course, I did," he told me. "The kids deserved a chance to say goodbye."

"Yeah, but now it's going to be really awkward when I'm back in two weeks," I told him.

A smile broke out across his face. "I thought so and more than I thought, I hoped." He grabbed a big manila envelope off of the table. "This is for you. Don't open it here, okay?"

I looked at it nervously before I accepted it. I didn't know what he could've said that he wouldn't say to my face. It was heavier than I expected. He gave me a long hug before I left.

I didn't open the envelope until I was on the plane. I wasn't sure what he'd written, and I didn't want to take the chance that Veronica or my dad would ask me about it because if he told me how much he was going to miss me, I wasn't going to be able to hold it together.

Hey mama,

First off, I'm having Ronnie write this for me, so if the handwriting is atrocious, it's all him. (My handwriting IS NOT atrocious).

Two weeks, huh? Can I be corny for a moment? You have changed my life. I have never met anyone that I connect with the way I connect with you. What are the odds that we'd both love Gertrude Barnstone (who the fuck is Gertrude Barnstone? He won't tell me. "it's mine and Mia's thing" he said) and that the person that rudely knocked me over would become one of the most important people in my life? What are the odds that you'd find it endearing and not creepy that I pretended my cane was broken – sorry, not sorry? (It was kind of creepy; we all told him afterward it was creepy). What are the odds that I'd find out that you shared my passion for the arts, and you'd want to come and help out here?

My friends thought I was making you up when I told them about you after that first day and after they met you, they saw the same thing I did, figuratively of course.

I don't need to see you to know you are a beautiful person. While my heart will be full of sorrow if you choose to take your next steps away from here, I will carry these past two weeks with me always.

Love, (he said sincerely, but we all know you two love each other)

Tito

P.S. If you don't come back, I will get your address from your father and send the cards from the kids to you. (expect A LOT of glitter)

P.P.S. I hope you like it.

(P.P.P.S. we really will miss you too)

I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry. I reached into the envelope to pull out a small picture frame. It was the day we went to the beach for Tito's birthday. Someone must've taken a picture of the two of us while we were taking our walk and had caught us while we'd both been laughing. There was a sticky note on top. He wanted you to have the group photo, but we thought you'd like this one better. I couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped me involuntarily. Tito's friends were so obvious.

We'd laughed about it several times because they were adamant that I was Tito's next great love story. I'd been so anxious about it the first time they'd joked about it, but Tito insisted that even if Andrew wasn't in the picture, he wasn't ready for a relationship yet. That's when he'd told me about his ex who told him she was pregnant. With another man's baby. And she wanted to marry that guy. And she'd been with that other guy essentially the whole time they were together but hadn't known how to break up with a blind guy. Yeah, I got why it would take some time before he was ready to put himself back out there.

I pushed that whole thing aside because I had no idea what was going to happen between me and Andrew now. Would it be fair to ask him to stay with me and do long distance? Could I handle breaking up with him to set him free? Thoughts like that made my chest feel tight.

I was about to put the picture frame and note back when I spotted something tangled up at the bottom of the envelope. I pulled out a necklace. I didn't know what he'd used to make the little paintbrush that hung from the end of a piece of string. It couldn't have been metal because it didn't set anything off when it went through the metal detectors. The level of detail was amazing. I looked closely at it. I'd seen a few of Tito's pieces and I was always amazed at how he managed to recreate things that he saw through touch. The bristles on the paint brush were as thin as a strand of hair. There were tiny swirls in the brush that made it look like it was made of wood. I pulled it around my neck.

It was surreal to leave California at 1 pm and not get to Atlanta until 10. I'd thought I was going to have to get a Lyft, but Andrew was waiting for me. If he noticed that I only had my carry-on and not the luggage I'd left with, he didn't say anything. I knew I should've told him. At any point in the half-hour it took him to drive to my house or when he invited himself in or before we fell asleep, I should have told him. I didn't. I didn't think I was ready to figure out what this meant for us and, once he knew, I'd have to think about that.

It was easier to put it off, so the next morning, after Andrew left for work, when I went to see Lake, I didn't speak a word about California, and she didn't ask.

The first time I told someone was over a dinner with my mom.

"You're going to California," my mom said quietly. I'd been trying to figure out the right way to tell her that but had only succeeded in pushing around the peas she'd made with dinner.

"How did you know that?"

"Mother's intuition." I looked at her skeptically. Things were way better between us now, but they weren't that good. "Your father told me. He wanted to let me know that… if I wanted to follow you, he'd help. Not forever but until I got on my feet."

It took me too long to understand her words because I felt like they didn't make sense. "Would you… would you do that?" I asked.

"If you're okay with it, I'd like to," she said seriously. "I know you still don't trust me, but I love you, bug. And I don't want to stop earning back your trust."

I looked away from her. "How do I know you won't just take off again?" I asked. We'd very intentionally not talked about it. It had been a mistake, absolutely, but it had been so hard to talk about it when we were reconnecting.

My mom swallowed. "You don't. But you can give me the chance to prove that I'm not that person anymore."

I bit my lip. "I know you don't want to tell me, but I deserve to know why you left me. How could you just walk out and not look back? Did you think about me at all?"

"Every day," she said seriously. She brought her hand to the side of my face. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Leaving you behind was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I knew if I didn't leave, I wasn't surviving that. I didn't recognize myself, didn't like who I'd become, didn't like the life I was living." She let out a shaky breath. "I was pregnant."

My head snapped up. "I have a brother or sister?"

She shook her head. "I found out when I miscarried. They guessed I was around nine weeks. All while your father was gone on one of his trips." She squeezed her eyes shut. "A few days after my miscarriage, I went to see my doctor because I was having this really intense pain in my chest. I thought it was a side effect of the miscarriage… maybe my milk was somehow coming in even though I'd miscarried; turns out it was unrelated. They found a tumor." I stared, certain I misheard her. "They did a biopsy, and I was told I had breast cancer. It hit me that I'd been living the life I dreamed about since I was a little girl, but it wasn't my dream anymore and I was about to potentially lose my chance to make my dreams come true. The day I left, I had a lumpectomy and then I started a round of chemo."

"Why didn't you tell us?" I asked horrified.

"I thought it would be easier on you to think that I walked away," she told me. "Maybe then, if I died, it wouldn't hurt so much." She frowned. "No, that's not why, but I think you might hate me if I tell you the truth."

"Please."

"I'd been looking for an out for a long time. I got pregnant with you before I was ready to be a mom. Your dad wanted kids so badly, but the moment I had you, things started moving for him. He started getting promotions and was almost never around. I felt like I was raising you by myself. I blinked and suddenly a decade had passed, and I'd given up on everything I wanted from my life for your dad. When I found out I had cancer… I knew I needed to start living my life while I had a life to live, and I chose myself over you. I am so sorry."

"Are you okay now?"

"I'll be cancer-free for four years in October, and I've been clean for over five years."

"Clean?" I asked.

She nodded but didn't elaborate. I didn't think anything could justify her walking out on us, but here it was. The only possible excuse. I didn't even know if it was an excuse, I just knew cancer changed everything. "I wish I'd known. I thought… I thought you didn't love me. I thought you didn't care."

"How could anyone not love you, bug?" she asked gently. She brought her hand to mine. "It doesn't excuse what I did. I still made the selfish choice. After treatment, I started taking some more classes. I really focused on my art. Last year, I got offered that position with the touring gallery. It wasn't until I started chasing my dream that I realized… your father wasn't my dream, but you were still part of it. I wanted my daughter back. I hoped… I still hope it's not too late."

"It's not," I whispered. "It could never be too late."

I was the one to fold her into my embrace this time. I felt like I finally let go of it. The pain, the feeling of abandonment, the feelings of inadequacy. It was never about me. It should enrage me that I didn't factor into the equation after she finished chemo, but mostly I felt relieved.

She hadn't left because I hadn't measured up as her daughter; it wasn't my fault. So many people had told me that over the years, but I hadn't believed it until right this moment.

I was so relieved that she hadn't chosen to walk away from me. She'd just chosen to explore a different life. I was still angry, but I felt like I could get over that now that I knew.

I felt like my mom coming with me was the last piece of the puzzle. It made me so sure that I was making the right decision. I wasn't choosing between my mom and dad or my family and my friends; I was just choosing me.

I stayed late with my mom because now that I knew she was going to come back to California, we started to look into what we could do in California. I didn't try to suggest where she might be able to find work because I didn't know where to begin. She had an office job now that she hated every minute of. I'd let her figure that out.

Mostly, we talked about places we could go and things we wanted to see. By the time I left, I knew there was a nonexistent chance that I was going to be able to wake up early enough to get to Victor's tournament on time. I texted Benji to tell him I'd be late because I needed the sleep.

I'd thought making up my mind would make it easier to tell people, but I couldn't do it when I got to the massive Coliseum. I'd tell them after the vow renewal. It wouldn't do any good right now.

I didn't see Victor until lunch and, even then, I barely got to talk to him. I thought he was a little overwhelmed by how many of us were here especially when he'd just been expecting Benji.

I'd forgotten how good Victor was. Seeing him play was something else. The first game I'd ever seen him play in had been so overshadowed by his fury at his mom but once his brief suspension from the team had been lifted, I was able to see how talented he was. It was also hilarious to watch Benji watch Victor. Pilar and I spent a lot of time laughing about how he couldn't hear us talking about him even though we were sitting right behind him.

In Victor's last game, Benji sat with his hands bunched into fists, never once taking his eyes off of Victor. "He can do this," he kept muttering to himself. "He can do this."

The game had gone back and forth. The teams were so evenly matched that neither could gain enough of an advantage to secure a lead that would guarantee victory.

In the end, it came down to a foul shot. I was sure that the kid on the other team that took his place on the foul line must've felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders; I was sure that the second after he released the ball and before it started to bounce back and forth across the rim of the hoop must've felt like it lasted forever; I was sure that once he heard the swish of the hoop, it must've felt like one of those moments that he would remember forever. I just wish it had been Victor's team experiencing that moment.

If I felt this disappointed, I couldn't imagine what Victor was feeling. Mrs. Salazar vanished onto the court and was gone for several minutes before she returned without Victor.

When she said she wasn't sure where he was, it hit me that I might know. It was just a hunch, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he might've gone to his spot. I'd seen the inside of that storage room so many times since he'd left for this program, and I wasn't sure if anyone else was privy to that. It had more to do with when I called him than it did with him letting me in on a secret. Maybe Benji had heard of it because I was sure Victor would've told him, but I knew where it was. I'd virtually been there with him.

It took a few people to direct me to the training building and then another minute of trying to find the motivational poster he'd complained about so much. It took me a second to find the sign with "teamwork makes the dream work" in big, bolded letters. Just like he'd said, I was able to pull the door open without the slightest bit of resistance.

Victor was sitting in the same spot he always took up in here and was holding a piece of paper in his hand. He looked up at me and looked surprised. "Hey."

"Hey." I sat down next to him. It was weird to see the other side of the room. It really was full of dusty props. "Your mom said you ran away." He snorted before he wordlessly passed me the paper he'd been reading. "Oh my God. You got it!"

"I got it." He sounded dazed.

"Why don't you look happy?" I asked.

"I am happy, but I'm also…" he looked torn.

"Scared?" I guessed.

He nodded. "It's real now. If I do this, I'm going to be far away from my family." I was surprised when he didn't mention Benji. I thought that would be a big factor in this. Maybe he wasn't ready to think about that part of it.

"Yeah, but you'll be doing something amazing for yourself. You'll be chasing your dreams, and you'll get this chance to do more than you could ever do in Georgia," I told him. He looked at me so intensely, it made me self-conscious, and I began to talk just for something to do. "California could be really good for you. It can open new doors and give you the chance to see more of the world. Maybe it means saying some really hard goodbyes, but it's something you have to do. You can't say no to the life you'd get to live if you went there."

"If I go to California, will I see you there?" he asked quietly.

"I don't want to go to UCLA," I told him.

"You know what I mean." I couldn't look at him as I nodded. "You're gonna go." I nodded again. "Okay," he said simply. He sniffed and when I looked at him, I was surprised to see how watery his eyes got. "I'm going to miss you."

I took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm going to miss you too. Am I making a mistake?"

"No," he said firmly. He held my hand. "I think you are doing the right thing for you. I hope you'll find a way to come back a few times because our senior year will not be the same without you, but I get it. I know this was really hard for you to figure out."

"I'll be back all the time," I promised. "It was one of the things my dad offered up when I told him. He doesn't want this to mean I'm cut off from all of you."

"Have you told Andrew yet?" he asked quietly.

"You're the only one who knows. I didn't think I was going to tell any of you yet, but you somehow figured it out."

"Somehow?" he scoffed.

"Okay. Maybe I wanted you to figure it out," I admitted. "This is going to destroy Andrew and Lake."

Victor was quiet for a long time. "I don't think it is."

"What?"

"Mia, both of them knew this was a possibility. Of course, they're going to miss you, but they're not the same people they were before you left last year. Lake has worked on herself so much since she started dating Lucy. I know what she did at the start of the summer, but she's different now. And Andrew… I mean, wow. They'll be okay."

"Will Benji?" I asked quietly. "When you go to UCLA."

"I still have to get in," he said half-heartedly. He ran his hand through his hair. "He wants to come with me and, honestly, I think I might be too selfish to say no."

"I would've thought you'd be happy."

"I don't want him to resent that he had to give up going to a school he loves because of me." It was my turn to laugh, and he turned his confused expression toward me.

"Wait. You're serious?" I asked incredulously.

"I mean, yeah. Why should our future revolve around where I'm going to school?"

When he said it like that, I got where I was coming from. "But you're not making him go to school with you. He's making this choice and, no offense, but how do you know that he won't like being in LA? It seems like you're already making up your mind that it's the wrong choice for him, but maybe he'll love a school in LA more than he'd ever love wherever you thought he wanted to go. He's going to be surrounded by the nerdiest music and art students there. There's always so much happening in LA. He'll probably love it."

"You think?" He looked like I'd just thrown him a lifeline.

"I really do. What do you think Benji and I talk about?" Victor looked like he'd never considered what we would talk about when we weren't talking to him. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "We talk about art. We talked a lot about LA at his goodbye party. I almost think you might be an excuse for him to change his mind." I honestly wasn't sure if that part was true; it was more likely that this solution allowed him to be in Los Angeles AND with Victor, but I think it was what Victor needed to hear.

He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "God, I'm a mess right now. Sorry. Here I am complaining about what might happen a full year from now, and you're getting ready to move. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good," I told him honestly. "I left a lot of my stuff that I'd brought with me in California, and my dad's gonna have the rest shipped out next week. I don't think I'm going to be able to bring myself to say this once it actually hits me that I'm leaving, so I'm going to say this now. I love you, and I am so grateful that you are one of my best friends."

"I love you too," he said softly. He pulled me close to him, and I found myself relaxing into his hug. "I thought everything that's happened between us would've torn us apart, but you didn't let it. You're the best, Mia."

I half laughed and half cried into his embrace. As if I had anything to do with the fact that we were friends. Victor was the one who extended all of the olive branches. I just eventually grabbed on.

I pulled back a minute later. "I have to head out. I have a dinner with Andrew, his parents, and a bunch of rich guys."

"I'm surprised he's still going to them," Victor observed.

"There's a guy there tonight he actually wants to see," I told him. "Someone that he met through the mentorship program, I think." I was a little fuzzy on it, but I'd never seen Andrew excited to go to one of these things, and I was kind of curious to see how it was going to go now that his parents didn't have a hold on him.

I climbed to my feet, and Victor did the same. He gave me one more hug before I left. When I got in my car, I felt like I let out a breath. Everything was going to be okay.