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Emily had never wanted to run from somewhere more than
she wanted to run from that small room with the chanting
music and the thick, spicy smell of incense and the woman
who looked at her like she already knew everything about
Emily, down to her darkest secrets.
I’m being silly.
“You’re going to think it’s stupid once I tell you,” she said,
because Dani couldn’t possibly know the details, no matter
how omniscient she might seem.
“I don’t know. I’ve heard a lot and seen a lot. You should try
me.”
Emily inhaled, held her breath, then blew out a sigh. “I
know what you’re going to think. You’re going to tell me that
I’m a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t know what they have and
can’t appreciate an opportunity for the life of me. The thing is,
I do appreciate it. I do appreciate that I have parents who try to
love me, who want what’s best for me, but it’s stifling.
Especially because forcing me to be something I don’t want to
be is never going to make me happy.”
“Happy,” Dani grunted. “What exactly does that mean
anyway?”
Emily’s stomach cramped, but her heartrate picked up. She
could feel her pulse thrumming in her wrists and at the
juncture of her throat. “You’ll probably say I don’t know what
real problems are, so I’ll keep it brief before you have the
chance. I want to be an artist. I’m going to art school right
now. My mom’s made a living at it, but she doesn’t want me to
do the same. I don’t know if she thinks I’m not talented
enough and just won’t say so, or if she thinks I don’t have
what it takes. She basically says that all the time. I’m gay, and,
