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“Perfect. I’ve just ordered some more I think you’ll love, including a non-fiction about perfecting the college essay.”
“Maybe it’s time for a break,” Mom said. “Summer vacation’s almost over.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Tiffany chimed in.
“Don’t be fooled. USC looks as closely at summer vacation as they do the school year. They don’t accept slacking off.”
I’d heard the same speech every year since I’d entered middle school. Once it was clear Tiffany didn’t have a shot at USC, my parents had turned all their attention on me. “I know.”
“You want to go to USC?” Manning asked.
“University of Southern California,” Dad said.
“I’ve heard of it.” Manning was beginning to look irritated. “Private university in L.A., rival of UCLA.”
“We’re hoping to get her started in a pre-college program next year,” Mom said.
“Already?” Manning asked.
Mom nodded. “These things start early. Years before college application. And Lake wants this, so we’ll do whatever we can to get her there.”
Manning shifted his eyes to me. “Why USC?”
“It’s where I went,” Dad said.
I sensed by the fact that Manning ignored him that he was looking for an answer from me. Throughout my childhood, I remembered my dad happiest when relaying his years at USC, as if it were some kind of adult Disneyland. I hadn’t ever considered anywhere else yet. One of the best schools in the country was practically in our backyard.
“USC has all kinds of great programs,” I said.
Dad nodded, picking up his wineglass. “It’s a top-tier school.”
I smiled at Dad. I never felt closer to him than when we were on this subject. “They have a football team, a beautiful campus, and a great reputation.” I wanted to make my dad proud. To call myself a Trojan with the same pride he did. “And, yes, my dad’s an alumnus. I can’t really think of a reason not to go there.”
I looked back at Manning, and my world slowed. He wasn’t listening. He watched Tiffany push food around her plate.
“Did you ever think about USC?” Manning asked her. She didn’t even realize he was talking to her. “Tiff?”
“What?” She looked up and blinked. “Did I want to go there? Me?”
“Why not?”
“It takes hard work, dedication, and planning to get in to a top university,” Dad said. “Tiffany spent her time in school doing god knows what, but it wasn’t any of those.”
“I knew a kid who started at community college and transferred to Berkeley,” Manning said. “Tiffany could do that if she wanted.”
“That’s what Charles did,” Mom said, raising her glass to Dad. “He couldn’t afford private but he worked his way up through community college.”
Tiffany crossed her arms, sitting back in her chair. “Believe me, I don’t want to go to that dumb school. It’s like a fucking cult.”
Dad pointed his fork at her. “Watch your language. You’d be lucky to be at that school rather than wasting your time here watching TV and spending my money.”
“That’s not what I do all day.” She glanced nervously at Manning. “I’m looking at schools. I just don’t know where I want to go or what to major in yet.”
“Business,” Dad said. “Can’t go wrong with that. Once you get your degree, maybe you could manage a clothing store. Since you love to shop.”
She straightened her shoulders. “Maybe I’ll open my own clothing store.”
“Run your own business? Do you have any idea what that takes? Discipline. Hard work. Start-up capital. That’s just the basics.”
I could see where this conversation was going, and even though I didn’t always agree with my sister, I didn’t want to see her embarrassed. “How about a fashion designer?” I suggested. Managing people wouldn’t be good for her. She was more creative than us and did better without confines or rules. That was how I’d heard Mom defend her to my dad, anyway. “You’d be good at that.”
She ignored me. “You act like my life is over just because I don’t know what I want to do,” she said to Dad. “I could be a lot worse off right now, you know. I ran into Regina Lee at the mall today.”
He frowned. “Who?”
“That girl in my class who got pregnant.”
I remembered the name. The story of her relationship with a math teacher had been all over the news. Things like that didn’t happen at our school. It was when I’d learned the term statutory rape.
“The worst I did in high school was get bad grades and maybe have a little too much fun,” Tiffany said. “Regina has a baby. She was crying to me about how she’s raising it alone.”
“What’d she think was going to happen?” Dad asked. “She’d ride off into the sunset with a pedophile? How much time did he get? Three years?”
“I think so,” Mom said. “Statutory rape.”
“Goddamn ridiculous. They went too easy on him. I would’ve charged him with real rape.”
