I shrug and grin. “I am what you made me.”

“Stop trying to embarrass me and tell me what’s going on in your life. How are your classes?”

“They’re fine. Finals are in a couple of weeks, so lots of studying and papers.”

I don’t tell them how mind-numbing I find my schoolwork. That it takes me twice as long to write my essays because all the facts get pushed out of my head by beautiful images I want to create. My notes from class are more doodles than words.

Not that I don’t do the work. My GPA has never fallen below a 3.5. But the subjects bore me to tears. I’m surrounded by people who enjoy the classes while I’m just wishing I were somewhere else.

Holly probably would’ve latched on to my vague answer and pushed for more, but my parents let it pass.

“I’m sure you’ll do great. You always do.” Mom smiles reassuringly while Dad watches me over the rim of his drink.

After one last swallow, he finishes. “Gonna grab another, and then we can head to the gate.”

As he turns toward the bar, my mom gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.

Because of my dad’s fear, we normally keep our family trips to places within driving distance of Philadelphia. Even more so now that I need my treatments every other day. But my aunt Carol decided she wanted to visit her son—my cousin, Fred—out in Colorado and figured Thanksgiving would be a good time to go. Slowly, it turned into a whole family thing with my dad agreeing to fly and me finding a dialysis treatment center in Denver that had appointment times I could use while there.

All the plans were finalized months ago. Before I met Holly.

A trip I was originally looking forward to is now a week that I have to spend away from her. I’m doing my best not to turn into a dark storm cloud and ruin this family vacation.

As if she could read my mind, my mom starts up her questioning again. “What about dating? Ever since you broke up with that self-centered Anna girl, you haven’t mentioned anyone.”

“Her name was Annabelle, and I thought you liked her.”

Dad gets back then, a new glass of scotch in his hand, and I catch his grimace.

Mom waves dismissively. “I tolerated her because you liked her. And I cracked open a bottle of champagne the day you told me it was over.”

I start to snort in disbelief, but then my dad gives a confirming nod.

“Glad I didn’t pop the question then. Good to know you two would’ve let me hang myself.”

She reaches over to pat my hand. “We knew you’d eventually figure it out. And, now, you have a better idea of what to avoid. Time to look for a girl who cares about more than just herself. Someone with a good head on her shoulders. Like your donor, Holly.”