“Trust me, I don’t either, Dad. But we’re talking about my principal’s son. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is date my principal’s son.”
Dad sighs in relief. “That’s good to hear.”
I don’t want to tell them that Damian is a bad boy. I know they would freak out and demand my principal keep thirty feet between us at all times. Maybe yesterday, I would have considered using my parents as an excuse to dissolve our tutoring sessions. But after today…I don’t want to.
Thinking of Damian reminds me of what happened at the bookstore. Narrowing my eyes at my parents, I say, “Mom, Dad. Did you really have to cancel my credit card? I looked like a total loser at the bookstore.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but we didn’t know how else to get our message across,” Dad says. “We’ve warned you many times to be careful with how you spend money on books. Clearly, our words did not enter your ears.”
“Buying new books when you have piles and piles of old books in your room at home and at school? Does that sound logical to you, Sophie?” Mom asks.
“It’s perfectly logical when you love books as much as I do.”
“We love that you’re passionate about books,” Mom says. “But like I told you earlier, you need to learn to be more responsible with money. All I imagine is you in your twenties spending all your hard-earned money on books instead of more important things.”
“What can be more important than books?”
“Food,” Dad says. “Utilities. Rent?”
“Unless you want to sleep on a park bench surrounded by hundreds of books,” Mom says.
I groan. “I’m not that bad.”
“I went into your room last week to do some light cleaning and I could barely move. There are books in every nook and cranny.”
“I asked you guys for a bigger bookshelf. You refused.”
“There is no room for a bigger bookshelf in your room, Sophie,” Dad says.
“You can put it in a different room,” I say innocently.
They both give me stern looks.
I sigh. “It just hurts to get rid of old books. Feels like I’m throwing away an old friend.”
“I know it can be hard to let go of your old things,” Mom says, “but sometimes we need to do things that are painful. There are many kids who could benefit from your old books if we gave them to charity.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I can look through them when I come home for spring break and donate some to charity.”
Dad smiles. “Now you sound like a mature young lady.”
I perk up. “Does that mean I can have my credit card back?”
Mom holds up her hand. “One step at a time.”
I frown.
We talk about other things and then Mom gets a sorrowful look on her face. “Sophie, you know what’s coming up.”
I swallow as I glance at the calendar I hung on the wall. I can never forget that date. With my heart feeling like it’s being poked and prodded, I nod. “Adam and Gina’s death anniversary. Are you guys going to do anything?”
“Nothing too special,” Mom says. “We’ll visit their graves and talk to them for a bit. Would you like to be on video call with us?”
“Yeah. I’d love that a lot.”
My brother and sister died in a car accident when they were sixteen. My parents don’t talk about them often because it’s too painful. Even though they were twins, they were very different. Adam was a big flirt and goofy while Gina was more serious. She was studious like me, but she was also very social and liked to go out and have adventures, like Mom. One thing she and I had in common was our love for books. In fact, many of the books in the house (not counting mine) were hers. I’m glad my sister was obsessed with taking photos and videos because I’ll always know what they were like.
Dad presses his lips to Mom’s cheek. “We’ll get through it.”
