You always make the right decision in the end. “Okay,” I concede, hating the word as it tumbles out of my mouth. Where I drive a beat-up pickup that Dad helped me fix up, Amy drives a brand-new Honda Accord. Her dad is a family attorney and her mom owns a boutique in downtown Columbia, Missouri. Without college, how will I be able to buy Amy a nice house and all the things she’s used to? Unlike our family, Amy comes from wealth. No matter what I do, someone’s feelings will get hurt.īut Mom is right. Which is why I made the promise not to go to college when she begged me to stay. Last night, I spent Valentine’s Day with her and promised her I wouldn’t leave once we graduated. Then, if Amy and you are still together, I wish you both the best.”Īmy is going to be upset. I want you to experience life a little bit. “I just love her,” I say, trying again, but my argument has weakened. My entire baseball career wouldn’t be possible without Mom and Dad. All the baseball equipment and uniforms and trips she and Dad didn’t have the money for but somehow managed to fund. All those practices she ran me to over the years. Her jade-green eyes are teary and guilt tugs at my insides. We’re expensive and yet they do what they can to provide for us. One who has psychological needs requiring therapists they can barely afford and the other one who plays high school baseball for the varsity team. They’re in debt up to their eyeballs and are trying to raise two kids. She works long hours at the hair salon and Dad kills his back working overtime each week at the machine shop. Don’t you want to have more than this?”īy more than this, she means always struggling to make ends meet. Then, you can marry her and start your life once you have your college degree under your belt. One of the best teams to play college baseball for, Huds. You have a full-ride athletic scholarship to the University of Arkansas. “Three months and then you’ll graduate high school. More than this.” She waves around the aging kitchen of the house she and Dad rent out. “Your dad and I got married when I was just eighteen,” she says, her lips quirking up on one side in a half smile as she thinks of my father. At thirty-eight, she’s still young and pretty. I love her,” I tell Mom, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. At fourteen, my sister likes to throw her opinion around like it matters. Rylie is quiet from the living room as she texts someone and wisely doesn’t join the debate. I will not have you throwing away your future for some girl.” “You’re going,” Mom snaps, her green eyes flaring with fury.
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