“Same as always, and yes,” I say, because it’s how I always answer. Today, neither was quite true — the first because of Zoe, and the second because honestly I think Twizzlers taste kind of like vinyl and suffering. I sidestep, hoping I can push her into the living room with the force of my body language alone.

“Kerry asked if you’d started applying for college yet, and I told her how well you’re doing in your AP classes,” Mom says, smiling as she slips off her shoes. “Her son goes to MIT — I’m sure he’d be willing to talk to you about it if you’re interested.”

I barely manage to resist rolling my eyes. Even if MIT were a reasonable option for me, how on earth can she advocate for that when my being a long flight away would surely give her a fit of distress?

“MIT is out of my league,” I say, following her as she pads into the living room. Mom tries to be supportive, but she doesn’t have a clue. Unless I crack the secret to FTL travel or cure cancer before the end of this semester, there’s no way I’m getting into MIT. Perfect grades and the slew of extra summer school classes I took to get out of the house only count for so much at schools like that. I hate that great things are expected of me no matter how unrealistic they are. Maybe it’s the curse of all only children, that all their parents’ hopes and dreams are pinned on them.

“Nothing is impossible, honey. You should reach for what you want.” She sits down and starts thumbing through the mail.

I fume silently. She’s oblivious to the fact that what I want doesn’t matter. If and when I leave for college, her routine is going to be quacked half dead, and if she does fall apart, no one will be here to pick up the pieces. If I want to go, I have to figure out how to help her survive, but I don’t have any idea where to begin.

“So the vice president nominations go in tomorrow, right?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, and the brevity of her response tells me that she’s nervous about it.

“I’m sure you’ll get it,” I say. She’s the head of her division. The promotion is only a matter of time now that the douchecanoe CFO who kept cockblocking her moved on to another company full of like-minded pricks.

“Kerry says it’s a sure thing, but I don’t know . . .” She bites her lower lip.