“See? Come on, what else you gonna do this summer? Get a crappy job? Study? Hang out at the country club?” Freda asked. “This may be your only opportunity to see what’s out there on your own terms. Unless you think your mom would freak and not let you.”

I was going to be eighteen this summer—heading into my senior year—and I had no fucking clue who I was. I didn’t know what college I wanted to go to, what I wanted to be, or even what would make me happy. Sure, I had good grades and a solid SAT score, and with my mom’s connections, I’d have a decent pick of colleges. But just because I was smart didn’t mean I knew what I wanted to study. I wished I felt free to make my own choices without pressure.

The only thing I truly loved was cooking. I loved creating new dishes and learning about how the ingredients in a dish worked together. Nonni had taught me how to make fresh pasta, bread, and gravy from scratch, but every time I brought up the idea of pursuing cooking as a career, Mom freaked out. She’d wrinkle her nose and tell me I had no idea what I was talking about. She thought the industry was below me and I was meant for great things. Like being the CEO of my own business, locked in an office, making money to keep myself trapped by buying more things.

She expected me to attend some top-notch college and fall in line. The thought of being on my own this summer zinged through my blood like a burst of fizzy soda. I’d always done everything my mother had asked. In June, I’d be eighteen and legally an adult. Could she really stop me? My thoughts whirled and I suddenly knew I’d do it. For the first time, I was going to do what I wanted.

I felt more comfortable with this group than I had in a long time. With my friends, I felt pressured to be someone else to fit in with the crowd. With my mom, I felt ignored, caught up in some weird ideal she imagined me to be. Maybe it was finally time I made my own decisions.

“Sure, why not?”

Freda gave a whoop. “Well, I think it’s time we kicked this party up a notch,” Connor announced, slapping his hands together. “Is it still in the same place?”

David nodded. Suddenly, he turned to me. “Do you smoke weed?”