“It is so unfair you won’t let me go to a conservatory!” I exploded. This was a fight we’d had over and over, to the point where it was like a well-rehearsed scene. Ever since we’d started talking about my college options, I’d only been looking at the ones that would let me focus on acting—Tisch at NYU, BU, Carnegie Mellon, University of Michigan, USC. My parents told me I could study whatever I wanted—and they were okay with me being a theater major—but they’d drawn a hard line at conservatories, saying I was not under any circumstances going to a BFA program. “I want to act, you guys know how important it is to me, and—”

“And we’re not saying you can’t act,” my dad said, his voice soothing. “But act while taking all kinds of other classes, not so focused on one thing that you might not even like in two years.”

“After all, just a few years ago, you were going to be a professional dancer,” Grady said, putting a bookmark in place and turning toward us, apparently deciding he was going to join the conversation.

“You were six,” I pointed out. “What do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” he said darkly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like when you were dancing in the kitchen and kicked me?” My brother gave me a long look. “It’s not something you forget.”

“Look,” I said, turning back to my parents, “I don’t know how you can doubt I’m serious about this. The theater department has been my life for the last four years—”

“And maybe that hasn’t been such a good thing,” my mother interjected, causing me to stop short. This was a deviation from our previous fights—it was like she’d suddenly gone off-script on me.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” she said, “that, yes, you’ve been very focused the last few years. And while we admire the commitment, it means that you didn’t give yourself the chance to expand your interests.”

“You can’t,” I said, my voice rising at the unfairness of this. I hadn’t set up the Stanwich High theater department, after all. Also, why was it that parents always wanted you to be involved and disciplined and dedicated to something, but then as soon as you were, they started complaining that you were limiting yourself? “I’ve told you guys how it is—”

“But maybe it shouldn’t be,” my mom said, shaking her head. “You guys are in high school. You’re kids. Why should you have to commit to doing only one thing? You should be trying as much as you can, figuring out what you like.”

“Um,” I said, just staring at her. “That’s not what it’s like. What am I supposed to do about it?”

“Change it,” she said simply.