“It’s really OK.” Ruby put her hand on my arm before replying to Dad. “I’m not going next year. I’m going to take a gap year,” Ruby said, giving me a reassuring kind of look. She thought I was trying to protect her from Dad’s interrogation.

“Good for you. Do some traveling or something?”

“Well, no. Not quite. I’m going to stay home.”

I didn’t know that. I’d thought before that Ruby must be going traveling and I’d kind of decided that was true without thinking about it again. I didn’t ask her about it for obvious reasons. You know, because I like to stay in the moment.

Kidding. It was because I selfishly tried to avoid any conversation that might lead back to me.

“Do you live anywhere near Oxford?” he asked, pointing at me. My throat seized up. This was it. Doom. I scanned the table as though a smooth change of conversation would leap out at me and I noticed Beth watching me.

“Not really,” Ruby said, a little sadly I thought. “But it’s so impressive that Saoirse’s going there.”

I buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep up the pretense. Lying to Dad and Ruby (OK, and Beth), acting as though I was excited, because who wouldn’t be excited about Oxford? I felt as though the world was coming down around me and I was supposed to paste on a smile. Dad would see through me finally. He’d turn white and demand to know why I didn’t want to go. I wouldn’t be able to speak. I’d be backed into a corner with both of them bearing down on me. He would say Is this about your mum? Ruby would say What about your mum? Dad would tell her all about it and then Ruby would look at me with that pity face and tell me how awful it all was. Meanwhile, Dad would clutch his chest and stop breathing, a heart attack caused by the sheer audacity of someone turning down a place at Oxford. He’d collapse onto the table and die facedown in a plate of egg fried noodles. I’d basically be an orphan and Ruby would be furious I’d lied to her and never speak to me again.

No, I’m not being dramatic.

Shut up.

Just then Beth leapt out of her chair and yelped.

“Oh no!” she squealed. “Rob, get a fire extinguisher.”

Across the table, the candles had tipped over and a small flame was slowly (comically slowly) eating through the crappy paper tablecloth.

Dad looked at Beth, who appeared stricken, and laughed.

“I don’t think we need a fire extinguisher, love.” He patted the flame with a tea towel that was still slung over his shoulder from making dinner.