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“Delmont?” she asks in a tone that shows she thinks I’m lying.
I give her a closed-mouth grin as I nod. “Yes, Delmont. It’s my dad’s middle name and my grandfather’s middle name. You know, family traditions and all.”
“What other family traditions do you guys have?”
“Do you really want to know about my family?”
She puts her pen down and tilts her head to the side. “This is how interviews work. I ask a simple question that hopefully leads to better, more intriguing things. What can I say? It’s worked. I’m intrigued.”
“Besides my dad making me go to Stanford because it’s a family tradition,” I say, mocking his tone. “He’s the only one out of our family who went there, so it’s hardly a tradition.”
“Why don’t you want to go?”
I look around, wondering if I should actually tell her, then decide,Fuck it. “Though you might think my entire family is all wrapped up in the tech world, I’m not.”
Her eyes open wide at my confession. Everyone just assumes I’m a techie, like my father, but I couldn’t care less about that world.
She shakes her head and holds out her hand to me. “I’m not buying it. Give me your phone.”
I laugh, knowing she’ll see just how un-techie I actually am. I don’t give a shit about all of the apps and games my friends play, and, no, I don’t have them downloaded on my phone. Yes, I have Instagram and Twitter, but only for my football posts—to build who I am as a player for colleges—but besides those, I only have Snap to keep in touch with my friends and my music apps.
I unlock the screen and hand it to her, staring directly at her as she takes it all in. I watch as she swipes once because those are the only two pages I have on my phone, and the first page only has a few apps because my screen is a picture of my truck, and I don’t want stupid app icons blocking it.
“Of course you have TimeLand on here,” she smugly says, trying to throw it in my face.
The company first started out as a desktop gaming system, and with the invention of smartphones, their sales went through the roof due to the ease of just hitting a button to download the free game. Well, free with a side of a thousand different options to buy to make the game better. That’s where they make all their money.
She goes to hand it back to me, but I don’t accept it.
“Open the app.”
Yes, I have the app on my phone, but, no, I don’t play it. It actually keeps track of how many days you’ve played and logged in and blah, blah, blah. Most people show that shit like a badge of honor. I don’t.
She opens it, and right there on the screen, it says in big bold letters,Welcome back! It’s been 489 days since you last logged in.
Her eyes meet mine, and I grin.
“Do you believe me now?”
“Fine.” She hands the phone back to me, and I take it this time. “So, you’re not a tech guy. You don’t want to go to Stanford. Where do you want to go then?”
“Michigan,” I state clearly because, to me, there’s not a doubt in my head.
“Why?”
I chuckle under my breath. “I’m guessing you don’t follow college football.”
She raises her eyebrows slightly as she shakes her head. “Sure don’t.”
“Well, their football team is always ranked high. And I like that it’s similar weather to what we’re used to. Plus, my grandpa went there.”
“So, that could still be following your family tradition.”
“I like to think so. If only my dad did too.”
“What does your grandpa say?”
I bite my inner lip, trying not to have the emotions come up that always do when I speak about him. “He passed four years ago.”
