1
TARA
If you want to know the exact moment my life imploded, it wasn’t when the sprinklers went off in the geology department. It wasn’t even when they went off while I was secretly making out with my brother’s best friend against a display case of priceless fossils. No, it started during spring break, when I learned my entire childhood had been carefully curated to protect my “delicate” emotions.
I’d been upstairs unpacking when I heard raised voices from Mom’s study. Troy rarely fought with Mom, so I’d crept to the top of the stairs, concerned.
“I need you to be civil at dinner tonight,” Mom had been saying. “Your father’strying, Troy.”
“Trying?” Troy’s laugh was bitter. “Like he tried when he was sleeping his way through the faculty? When he was ‘networking’ at conferences while you worked two jobs to keep us afloat and I basically brought up Tara?”
“Lower your voice! Tara’s upstairs?—”
“Yeah, still thinking Dad was away doing research. Still believing all those postcards and stories we fed her. God, Mom, do you know how much I hate that we lied to her? That we’re still lying?”
“She was only a child. She’s not like you, Troy; she’s soft. Delicate.” Mom’s voice had softened. “We agreed protecting her from the truth was better than her knowing her father chose…another path for a while. He’s been back for years. It’s high time now for you to let it go.”
Troy sighed. “I know. It’s for the best. It would break her.”
Yeah. Ouch.
I sat at the top of the stairs, my world tilting sideways. Years of careful explanations about Dad’s “important sabbatical research” - all lies. A fiction crafted to protect theirfragiledaughter who couldn’t handle reality.
They thought they were protecting me. Like my optimism is some kind of weakness. Like pretending the cracks in our family didn’t exist was the same thing as fixing them.
But here’s the thing about lies, they don’t protect you. They break you when you least expect it. When you’re least prepared to put the pieces back together.
I still haven’t told them I heard them that day.
How do you even start that conversation? Hey, remember when you decided I was too weak to handle our family falling apart? Well, surprise - I know now. And I’m pissed.
The hurt remains heavy in my chest. They thought they were protecting me, like somehow being optimistic made me weak. Like I needed sheltering from the truth.But I’m not their naive little girl anymore, and I amdonebeing protected.
They could have told me.
They should have.
Which is why, three months later, I’m giving unauthorized campus tours instead of the official ones my brother arranged. Troy had pulled strings with Student Services, insisting the job would be perfect for me.
He might have been right, but that’s not the point.
“This is way better than the actual tour,” one of the freshmen whispers. “She makes everything sound interesting.”
I straighten my shoulders, grinning. Turns out Iloveexplaining things to people - exactly why Troy thought I’d be perfect for this. But my stubborn ass has other plans this summer. No safe campus jobs. No more big brother pulling strings. I want to work at Luzia, where the nightlife crackles with an energy that has nothing to do with anyone’s expectations.
Still, when one of these lost freshmen compliments my rainbow-striped sweater dress (which does look particularly cute with my glittery combat boots), how can I not help? I’m a simple girl - compliment my outfit and apparently get a full unauthorized campus tour. Besides, I’m already procrastinating checking my emails about the Luzia job.
“And this is why UMS is actually one of the first carbon-neutral campuses in the country.” I gesture to the living wall cascading down the Environmental Sciences building. “See, the plants change color with the seasons. It’s pretty cool. The entire building basically breathes.”
“Oh my god!” The redhead in the group suddenly grabs her friend’s arm. “Oh my god, look.”
They all turn in perfect unison, like a highly choreographed K-pop move-it’s sort of impressive-and dissolve into not-so-subtle giggles. I follow their gaze and my stomach does a complicated flip.
Oh boy.
Alfie Spencer.
My brother’s best friend slash roommate. You know the one who I mentioned I made out with two nights ago?
