Page 38 of Sweet Dandelion


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“Yeah.” He studies me, probably seeing the doubt in my eyes. “I know this seems like such a little dream compared to what I’d hoped to do before, but I’m happy.”

I nod at his words, unable to wrap my head around it.

“What do you want to do when you graduate?”

I don’t know why his question catches me off guard. It’s something anyone should be asking someone my age, it’s an answer I should have readily on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t have one because…

“I don’t know.”

“What about college?”

“I’m applying.” I pick a piece of lint off my black jeans and hold it between my fingers. “But I’m not sure I’ll actually go.”

Sage expects me to go—not that he’d ever force me, but it’s what he did, it’s what we always spoke of as a family. But things are different now, and the future I thought I’d have a year ago was ripped away, now the rest of it feels rocky too.

He leans back in his chair, like he’s thinking carefully about what he’s going to say.

“If you could do anything, be anything, what would you choose?”

I look away from him, out the window, to the light and freedom beyond.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, voice shaking.

My stomach churns and I hate how unhinged I feel. There’s nothing tethering me to a future anymore. I’m lost, floating and adrift at sea with no one to pull me back to reality.

“Did you have plans before?” I can tell he’s hesitant to ask, but it also has to be voiced.

Reluctantly I bring my gaze back to him.

“I was definitely going to college. I wanted to be a lawyer.”

“Why don’t you want that anymore?”

I swallow thickly past the giant lump lodged in my throat. “Because I can’t fight for a system that’s broken. One that fails innocent people every fucking day. I refuse to be a part of that.”

His blue eyes deepen and I swear he looks at me with something like respect.

“Now, I don’t know what I want to be.”

I can’t even add when I grow up onto the end of that because I am grown up now. These decisions are upon me and I’m going to have to make some difficult choices soon.

“What’s something that makes you happy?”

“Talking to you,” I admit and his shoulders straighten.

“Really?” He seems so surprised.

“You don’t pressure me to talk and you listen but don’t judge. You don’t try to force opinions on me like other people. When I was in the hospital most of the therapists they had me see wanted to tell me what they thought I should do. I know that’s not what they’re supposed to do, but it was happening. Maybe it was because I was a kid to them, but it always bothered me.”

“What’s something else that makes you happy?”

“My friends.” I can’t believe I’m admitting that, or even classifying them as my friends, but that’s what they are. “Sage, my brother.”

“So, people make you happy?”

“Yeah, seems that way. I miss running, though.” I whisper the last part like a confession. “I hate myself for missing it as much as I do. I’ll never run again and I wish I could forget about it.”

He frowns slightly and I wonder if he’s thinking about basketball, what it meant to him. He found something else he’s passionate about so maybe the same can happen for me.

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