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Yes. A million times yes.
Me:Okay, Yoda, how’d you get so smart.
Julie:I’ve watched my dad struggle our whole childhood to provide a decent life for us, and there are so many times I wish he could do something different, work less, get paid more. But you know what? He loves what he does, even if it isn't glamorous. And we have all the things we truly need. When you clear away all the excess crap, it makes it easier to see where your priorities lie, and it’s the people in your life, those connections, that make life worth living.
Me:You make it sound so simple.
Julie:Isn’t it though?
Me:When you have a father like mine? Not so much.
Julie:Well, only you can live your life. And you get one. It’s yours to screw up, just as much as it is to make it everything you want it to be.
I exhaled and turned toward my nightstand. Sliding the drawer open, I stared at the Bucknell offer with longing.
Julie was right. This was my life, and I was so tired of playing by somebody else’s rules? So why did I still hesitate? Why was I so scared to fail?
I knew the answer.
It was the same reason I went to a tutor despite my stellar GPA. The same reason I worked my ass off to excel at water polo. The same reason I didn’t want to rock the boat with my friends.
Because I was expected to be perfect. Because, a long time ago, I didn’t even know when, everyone around me decided who I was gonna be, and I’ve gone along with it ever since.
And as if she read my mind, another text came through.
Julie:Do you always do what everyone else wants?
Me:Most of the time.
Julie:Isn’t that exhausting?
Yeah. Because being perfect for everyone and everything gave me no room to fail—to be human.
But instead, I typed:Sometimes.
Me:What’s one thing you’ve done that people didn’t expect?
Penelope immediately came to mind.
Me:There’s this girl. My friends like to trash on her, but I’ve been sticking up for her, andI’m trying to earn her trust, to show her I can be a friend.
A minute passed with no response, and I started to worry that my answer was lame when she finally texted back.
Julie:And how doesthat feel?
Me:Good
Me:If felt damn good.
PENELOPE
I hurried down the hallway, a bounce in my step as I headed into the kitchen where my father stood in front of the ancient coffee pot, filling his travel mug.
“Morning,” he greeted, his back still turned.
The scent of coffee drifted toward me and my mood lifted further, which was hard, considering my head was already floating.
“Good morning.” I headed to the cupboard where I grabbed a bowl and spoon, then filled it with my favorite sugary cereal—generic because we couldn’t afford name brand—and milk. I took a bite, leaning against the counter, crunching happily, and thinking about the day ahead.
