I’d written an essay because they’d hounded me to. I’d never actually put it in an application.
My father looked up from the newspaper, his expression sad. “It wasn’t her essay. I read her essay, and it was excellent.”
Well that was nice to hear. Until Mamatsked as she added some green onion to the already perfect soup. “What do you know about law school essays? It could be—”
“The problem is her job,” he interrupted. “She needs to work in a law firm.”
“No, Baba—” I protested, but Mama cut me off.
“You have lawyer friends,” she told my father. “You could find her a job.”
“I don’t need a job!” I argued even though I rarely did. And just to prove that my mother really knew how to twist the knife, she turned and frowned at me.
“I thought you got fired from your job.”
“I was laid off.”
She waved the distinction aside. “See. You need a job!”
“I’m a stringer.”
She turned back to the soup. “That is no job at all. A real job has benefits. Do you have benefits?”
I didn’t answer because she already knew the answer.
“What will you do if you get sick? How will you live?” She shook her head. “No, you must come back home, and your father will find you a job at a law firm.”
“No,” I said as firmly as I could. And as usual, it was like I hadn’t said a thing.
“I will ask,” my father said as he turned a page in the newspaper. “She will probably start low. Minimum wage.”
“It is a start, and she can live here. Too expensive in Indianapolis.”
“Chicago has a much higher cost of living—”
“See? That is why you need to be a lawyer. You like arguing.”
I sighed. There was just no way to win with her.
“And since you are home,” she added, “you can help me with my computer. Good deal, no? I will cook for you, and you can get the viruses off my computer.”
Just what I loved doing…not. Maybe law school was a better option than living at home. But no, I was determined on my path to become an investigative journalist. I just had to figure out the details before I told them.
“So you are ready to move? What about that Chinese boy you were seeing?”
Chinese boy? I looked at her with a frown but didn’t answer because the doorbell rang. I got up to answer, purely as a way to escape, but my mother waved me back into the chair.
“No, no. You are still in your pajamas.”
My cotton Hello Kitty pajamas covered more of me than I usually wore, but that wasn’t the point. It was all about appearing respectable and that meant real clothes, not sleepwear. I was just slurping some more soup when I heard a familiar voice.
“Hello, Mrs. Wong. I’m looking for Heidi. Is she here?”
My heart froze in my chest. Rob? It couldn’t be. He had a game this afternoon in Indianapolis. Nevertheless, I was out of my seat and rushing to the front door as fast as my feet could carry me. And yup, Rob stood right there looking rumpled and unshaven in the morning sunlight, and yet so handsome I almost wept.
“Rob!” I gasped.
“Heidi!” The relief in his voice was clear enough, but the joy in his eyes when he saw me slowed my feet to a shocked stop. He was happy to see me? Even after I’d run off in a huff?
