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Forcing myself not to look back at him again, I follow my dad into his office.
“So your classes went well? You’re not regretting enrolling here at Hawthorne?”
“I definitely feel like I’ve made the right choice.”
“That’s great, honey. I knew you’d be happy here.” He pauses for a few seconds, as he often does when he’s thinking about my mother. “So, how was it, attending art class at your mother’s alma mater?” It was always going to be a thing I’d have to deal with.
“I like it. It’s kind of comforting.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He finds my letter in a stack of papers on his desk and hands it to me. “Here you go.”
I check the sender’s address. Sea Glass Art Gallery. Mercer Street. New York City. It’s where a lot of my idols have had their first exhibitions. The gallery has a knack for finding new, emerging artists who go on to make huge splashes in the art world, partly because the trend-watchers take the Sea Glass’s selections as gospel. Getting exhibited there is rocket fuel for an artist’s career. But it’s really, really hard to get accepted. “Thanks, Dad. I’m not getting my hopes up. I’m going to open it later.”
“You sure?” His expression softens from gruff football coach into supportive dad.
“Yeah, I have a ton of homework already and there’s a party tonight for freshman. Part of orientation week. Isla texted me earlier and told me she’d be waiting for me.”
“All right. You go on and have some fun. Remember that there are a million galleries and you’re only just getting started.”
“I know.” He’s giving me moral support in advance in case it’s a rejection—which it very likely is.
“I’m proud of you, sweetheart. And I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thanks, Dad. Me too.”
“Even if it is jarring as hell to see you mingling with my players,” he adds, only half joking.
“We’re at the same school, Dad. And there are a lot of them. But I’m going to be spending most of my semester in my art studio, so you can relax.”
He folds his arms and leans back in his chair. “Good.”
“You holding up okay? How was last night?”
“It was just fine, honey, like we both knew it would be. Don’t worry about me.”
I go over to kiss him on the cheek. “See you Sunday, then.”
“Stay out of trouble, kid.”
“I always do.”
He chuckles as he watches me go. After leaving his office I head back across campus. Dusk hangs heavily now but the campus is lit. The party on the Green is already pumping, mostly with freshman but there are some older students there too.
A band is playing a Harry Styles song and there are already a few people dancing. Food stalls are dotted around, along with tables, chairs and strings of lights. It’s warm tonight and the campus feels alive with laughter and music. Students are mingling and enjoying their newfound freedom. I spot Isla talking to a group of people.
“Roomie,” she calls out to me. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you. Come hang out with me.”
She gives me a hug and hands me a travel mug. I can tell she’s already tipsy. “Lauren and Mollie and I made some cocktails before the party,” she whispers. “They’re our new suite mates. They got here this morning and they’re so nice. They went to get some food but when they get back I’ll introduce you.”
“How were your classes?” I ask her.
“Amazing. They let me into the 200-level classes for macroeconomics and differential calculus because I took some 100-level online classes in high school and also because of my internships, but I’ve already read some of the textbooks they’re using so my professors are going to give me some extension work to do. I can’t wait.”
I laugh at her enthusiasm. “I’ve never known anyone so excited by economics and calculus,” I tease her.
“Oh, shit, look who’s here. I told them not to hound me. Or you.”
I turn to see who she’s talking about and…oh no.
