Buck up, buttercup.
“Kady, come on. You can’t really expect that he’d come chasing after you when he just got cut from the team, and probably has no idea you’re even back in the states. For all he knows, you’re still over in Spain and he doesn’t want to bother you with all his drama.”
My hands ball into tight fists. If Kylah has one flaw, it’s that she always sees the best in people. Me, on the other hand, I see them for what they really are. Lying scumbags.
I enunciate my response. “Yes, he would know I’m home if he bothered listening to my voicemail. The douchebag.”
“Well, maybe he hasn’t. I’m sure he’s busy and has a lot on his mind. Just give it some time. You’re always so impatient.”
My mouth drops open. I know she doesn’t mean to hurt me with her insensitive comment, but it does hurt. Not only have I been dumped and now ghosted by the guy I’ve fallen for, but my sister even thinks I’m high maintenance.
“It’s just that I really thought Gavin…” I let my words trail off as I stare idly out the window.
Dammit. It hurts to be dejected in this manner.
“You thought Gavin, what?” she prods softly, cajolingly.
“I really thought he liked me.”
Kylah sighs next to me. “Like I said, I’m sure he does but is just dealing with life and stuff. Which, by the way, have you given any more thought on when you plan to leave for L.A.?”
This question makes me itchy. My dad and I spent a lot of time talking about it. Well, really, he spent time yelling at me for having my head in the clouds and not having a grasp on reality. He doesn’t think I’m ready to make a go of it on my own.
Oh, he of little faith.Doesn’t he realize that once I set my mind to something, I make it happen?
“I told you, I’m moving to L.A. once I’ve saved enough money to get my own place. Then I’m going to start a modeling career.”
Kylah is silent, which isn’t too unusual. She’s internalizes everything, where I’m the loud mouth who says the first thing that comes to mind.
I can hear her wheels spinning inside her head and it pisses me off.
“What?” I gripe, rolling my eyes for emphasis.
“Nothing. It’s just that I’ll worry about you out there by yourself. And I’ve heard that the modeling business is really hard. I’ve read about all these beautiful girls who end up prostitutes and drug addicts because of all the rejection and competition they face. They can’t handle all the rejection. They try to look so perfect and there’s a lot of body-image issues.”
I scoff. “Do you seriously think I’m going to turn into a prostitute if I hear the word ‘no’? Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
To my sister’s point, I do get my undies in a wad whenever I don’t get what I want. But for the most part, I can find a way to parlay that into a positive, harnessing that goal-mindedness to do what I set out to do.
“Why not go back to school? Study fashion instead.”
I shake my head emphatically. “No, I can’t. School isn’t for me, regardless of the subject. I told Dad I wouldn’t give it up forever. This hiatus is just temporary until I figure out where I’m going.”
“Well, at least you’re taking your time to figure this out and not jumping in so impulsively like you’ve done other things without a plan,” she chides, patting my hand. “Don’t look now, but I think my sister is becoming an adult.”
I flip her off. “Be careful, there, missy. I might rub off on you and you’ll have to double-major in something just to outdo me.”
Our laughter rings in the car, the joy of two best friends and sisters joking about the painful pursuit of adulthood.
You have to laugh at life, because adulting sucks.
