Chapters (30)
- Cover
- ALSO BY JENNIFER LONGO
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- INTERNSHIP
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Today. I called my boss yesterday and asked if I could, and I came in after we closed and showed her my portfolio and she said do it and I started and couldn’t stop. I’ve had four cups of coffee. Four!”
I stared and stared. “Kira,” I said. “You’re going to be an artist. You are, I mean—for real. For your life.”
She was exhausted, which may have explained the tears streaking her rainbow chalk–dusted face, still smiling like a tanked-up caffeine junkie.
“Hold up. How many patches are you wearing?”
“None! I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Since you beat the shit out of that guy. Sean sent me all the movies you told him to watch.”
“What movies?”
“The ones about aging out?”
My stomach twisted with embarrassment. “You didn’t need those. I just wanted him to understand—”
“I didn’t understand. I watched them all, and I think I wasn’t truly listening to you. I am now, I will always, and you have to know you aren’t alone,” she said. “I mean, you don’t have to be. I wish you liked it here; I wish you would stay.”
“And live where? Do what? Also, aren’t you leaving for college?”
“Like my parents could afford housing! I’m ferrying in and living at home, no matter who accepts me. Community college, whatever. But I mean, besides my wishing you’d stay for my selfish reasons, you could have us all around. You know? Like, if you went to school…”
“I can’t. But with a clean record I can work at lots of places. Starbucks. Grocery stores, that’s good money. I can get temp jobs. I’ll live.”
“Okay, but is that what you want to do?”
“Kira. I’m aging out. I don’t get to do what I want.”
“All right, wait, wait, wait—we did this in psych; this is an Oprah thing, hold on….Silence your inner voice, shut off your brain, and then say out loud: ‘If I could do anything and get paid, what would it be?’ ”
“It doesn’t matter, I don’t even—”
“No! Don’t think! Just say, ‘I want to be paid to spend all day…’ ”
“Walking in the woods.”
“Good!” she said. “Yes! What else?”
“That’s it.”
“Okay, so you’re a park ranger, you and Sean.”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“You just said you watched the movies!”