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Jamie was looking between us with a sad frown, her fingers fumbling with the dainty chain around her neck.
“Ria, I can’t just sit back and watch you go down this self-destructive path anymore. I physically can’t do it. I’ve given you time, I’ve given you space, but it’s not getting better, and it feels like you keep…punishingyourself because you think you deserve it. And if you don't want to talk about it with me, then fine. But please at least talk to a professional about it.”
Jamie reached for my hand then, squeezing it once.
“And what makes you think I’m punishing myself?” I asked her stubbornly.
“Well, for one, you’ve spent an entire decade holding yourself back, not pursuing a single one of your interests, and squandering every last ounce of your own potential,” she said. “You’ve given up on your dreams, ambitions. Things you’ve been passionate about since as far back as I can remember.”
A sudden flash of anger snaked through me like a livewire, hot and heavy. I didn’t have nearly enough patience or energy to pull it back. “Newsflash, Albs: I’m not the first person in history to have peaked in high school. I don’t understand why everyone is soobsessedwith a bunch of potential I may or may not have had when I was a fucking teenager! Get over it!”
Both her and Jamie raised their eyebrows at me, but Alba recovered quickly, leaning back as her eyes narrowed with a warning glint. Her lips weren’t wobbling anymore. Instead, her demeanor and expression started to take on a more… challenging tone. Like she was gearing up for a battle.
Or maybe I was projecting.
I rose to my feet, fists clenching at my sides. “You think I held myself back on purpose?” I asked her. “You think I chose this path? Alba, every single one of those universities revokedtheir offers. That wasn’tmychoice.”
If I thought for one secondthat there was still a chance that I could—nevermind. It didn’t fucking matter anymore.
Alba shrugged.
Sheshrugged. As if what I’d said was completely irrelevant to the argument.
“So?” she said.
My head jutted forward. “Is that a serious question? Or a pregnancy brain thing?”
“Did you ever try applying again?”
Jamie threw a piece of naan into her mouth like it was popcorn, her wide eyes sliding from my end of the table to Alba’s. She looked…
Something was happening. The two of them were up to something.
“Why would I pay a bunch of money just to go through another round of rejections?” I asked.
“How do you know they’ll reject you?”
“Because they will.”
“But how do you know that if you’ve never even tried?”
“I just do!” I snarled.
“Mhmm. Sure.”
Jamie peeled open the tops of two different curry containers as she watched our exchange—the extra spicy tikka masala, and a yellow curry with cubes of paneer.
My stomach growled, sending hunger pangs through me for the first time in almost two weeks. But I kept my focus on my sister. “I have a criminal record, remember?”
Her gaze dipped to her cuticles. “I’m not interested in your excuses, Ria.”
My fingers dug into the table. She was goading me. I didn’t know why she was doing it, but she was, and it was fucking working.
“It’s not anexcuse,” I argued.
Her eyes snapped back to my face. They were fuckingglittering. “Prove it,” she said.
“What? How?”
