Shouldn’t it be a packet and not a letter? Does that mean I didn’t get in? And why so late? Fall semester starts in three months.
“May I?” I ask.
Mom nods toward the mail center in the kitchen where I dig through until I find my letter. My heart is pounding. I open the red envelope with one neat tear and pull out the three page letter, bracing myself for rejection.
Dear Waverly Miller,
Please find enclosed your original acceptance letter, sent to you on the fourth of March. We have yet to hear back from you, and your response is required by June 30th. Please fill out the attached form with your decision, and return it in the envelope provided.
I flip to the second page, heart pounding.
Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that we offer you admission to the English Literature program at the University of Utah. You were selected from an extraordinarily talented group of applicants, and for that reason, we are also offering you our Calcott Scholarship which covers approximately 50% of your tuition.
I stop there. I don’t need to read further.
“What is it?” Mom asks from the table.
I spin around, grinning big as if I just won the lottery. “I got in.”
Mom’s eyes snap down to her plate as she clears her throat. She’s not excited for me. I understand. I’m still her baby. She doesn’t want me to leave the nest yet. And she doesn’t think I need to go away to college either. We’ve had the “there are other options” talk.
She exchanges looks with my father. Everyone else is silent.
“They said they sent the original letter months ago.” I clutch the papers against my chest.
“We get a lot of mail, Waverly,” Dad says. “I’m sure it was thrown out by mistake.”
I don’t care. I’m not letting anyone ruin this moment for me. I grab a pen and sign my name along the dotted line before anyone can stop me.
Bellamy shoves the peas around on her plate. I don’t even think she paid attention to a word of what’s going on. She’s texting someone under the table, and it makes me mad only because I’m still not allowed to have a phone. She claims it’s for her job, but that thing never leaves her side.
Jensen rises from the table and walks over to me, offering me the world’s cheesiest high-five and a sincere smile. Out of everyone in my family, he’s the only one who appears to be happy for me.
It hurts.
“Dad, isn’t this great?” I search my father’s face for an ounce of joy, something that tells me he’s proud. He promised. He said if I could land at least a partial scholarship, I could go away for school.
“Good work, kid.” He takes a sip from his iced tea goblet, his eyes averted. That hurts, too.
Where’s the praise? Where’s the fanfare?
I smile through tears that threaten to fall, my eyes stinging when I blink. I don’t want them to see me cry. I don’t want Jensen to see me cry, either.
I don’t care what anyone says, I’m going to Utah. I’m getting my degree. Marriage and babies will be there when I’m done.
“Oh, Jensen and Waverly,” Kath says. “I signed you both up for Camp Zion.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Camp Zion?”
“It’s an LDS summer camp, of sorts,” Mark says, clearing his throat. “Morning devotions, faith-building classes. Just remember, you mustn’t let on that we’re not LDS, but this is a great program. Might open your eyes a bit to a more… righteous path?”
“It runs for about eight weeks at Whispering Hills Community College,” Summer says, salting her dinner and smiling. “Monday through Friday, eight to three. Just like school. Honor, Justice, and True will be attending the half-day session.”
“Do I have an option?” Jensen’s face pinches. “Like, did anyone think to ask me if I wanted to attend?”
“Jensen.” Kath tilts her head at him, her voice a light slap on the wrist.
“No, Jensen. You do not have an option.” My father’s voice is staccato and gruffness mixed together. “Teenagers need structure in the summer. Idle minds are dangerous minds.”
I throw him a look, silently warning him not to argue. Dad will never change his mind about this. Plus it’s my last hurdle, my last chance to prove I’m worthy of going out on my own for a few years. If I can get through Camp Zion and make him happy, I’ll have nothing more to prove.
“Camp starts Monday.” Mark forks his food.
Jensen’s biting his tongue, I can tell.
“It’s not so bad,” I whisper across the table. “I’ve gone every summer. It gets us out of the house, at least.”
“Camp?” Jensen arches his brows, saying the word like it’s got as much appeal as swallowing a mouthful or razorblades.
“Just eight weeks of camp and then we’ll be shopping for mini-fridges and extra-long sheets,” I say, steering the conversation back toward college in the fall.
Dad chews his mouthful of food. “We’ll see how the summer goes.”
His words pack a punch. I’ve done everything he’s asked of me thus far. I’ve helped put the kids to bed, I’ve carted them around to various lessons and events, I’ve done more than my fair share in the kitchen, and last week I weeded the garden and helped Summer plant flowers.
I pull in a deep breath and excuse myself from the table. No need stick around and get myself all worked up over nothing.
I’ve got this. I know I do. At this point, I don’t see how my father could say no.
CHAPTER 15
JENSEN
This whole family’s fucking bizarre.
I mean, I knew they weren’t normal, but that stunt they pulled with Waverly? Beyond shitty. She might be a prissy little overachiever, but she worked hard to get into college.
I’ve never been one to make a big deal about school and the whole follow-the-herd-mentality, but watching the excitement on her face get washed away by the silent reception her loved ones gave her damn near broke my heart.
We finish eating, her empty chair soaking up the hush in the room.
I make a mental note to go up and talk to her after the rest of the house is asleep tonight. Kian’s band is playing downtown and Liberty said she could get me in. I doubt she’ll go, but it’s worth a shot.
“Jensen, can you play Connect Four with me?” It’s Gretchen. She’s standing there twirling a strand of white-blonde hair around her finger and digging her toe into the wood floor. I figure it’s kind of my duty now to forge some kind of bond with those two, because someday they might need to turn to someone with half a rational thought process.
“Of course, G.” I ruffle her soft, baby hair. We head to the family room where Honor and True are quietly reading. The T.V. is off, Gideon is assembling a dinosaur puzzle, and I’m not sure where Justice is.
Mark’s voice trails in from the next room over—his den. The main house is so big and open that every sound carries, at least downstairs. The upstairs is all closed off and compartmentalized, like shoe boxes stacked side by side.
“You’re going to have to tell her,” I hear a woman say. It sounds like Jane. “Soon.”
“I know,” Mark says.
“Did you see the look on her face?” Jane says, her tone reminiscent of depressing guitar chords. “She’s going to be crushed.”
“She’s a big girl. She’ll get over it. She’ll just have to accept that this is the way it’s going to be.” His voice fades in and out. I’m straining to eavesdrop, but all I hear are the plastic clicks of the Connect Four coins as Gretchen drops in three in a row when she thinks I’m not looking. “As her father, I know what’s best for her future. Her fate is sealed.”
It’s quiet. I strain, cocking my head and leaning my ear toward the den. The conversation seems to have ended. From what I gather, Mark doesn’t want Waverly going off to college and Jane isn’t going to try to change his mind.
Talk about fucked up. They all know how much this means to her.