“No, let me finish. I’ve been...tough on you about that,” she admits, pulling back and biting her lip. “I know I have been. I just... I don’t want your passion to be what wears you down, Aaron. That’s the quickest way to stop loving what makes you happy.”
I nod jerkily, feeling a little teary. “Thanks, Mom.”
“That story.” She points at me, then takes Dad’s hand. “Don’t forget.”
The two of them disappear into the office, and I return to scrubbing the plates. I can’t help but think how lucky I am right now. This silly, quirky situation with my mom and dad felt like it was on its way to going someplace way darker, and I’m so grateful it didn’t.
My mind drifts to D1V, and all the stories we haven’t shared yet. I don’t know nearly as much about her as I’d like to. About her life, her family.
I want to tell her this story.
I want to make her laugh.
I want to be the person who writes long, overly flowery letters about her, using fan fiction as an excuse.
I drop the final plate into the sink and grit my teeth against the storm brewing in my chest.
I need to do something. Help her somehow.
So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
21
DIVYA
Mana Punk Newsletter
Catch up at GamesCon, demoing our latest
9:44 p.m.
Microsoft Home
Xbox Deals This Weekend, GamesCon Special
7:43 p.m.
Det. Nikki Watts
Tomorrow.
4:30 p.m.
The Vox Populi
You are NOT welcome.
2:42 p.m.
The Vox Populi
Show your face. See what happens.
1:08 p.m.
Lee Lamar
Time to talk with Engadget?
9:36 a.m.
I close my phone. I’ve got access to my email account again, but catching up on yesterday’s emails isn’t exactly helping to get me excited for today’s trip to GamesCon.
Not at all.
I’m fussing with my hair and makeup in the bathroom, when my mom peeks in, the door creaking open slowly.
“Divya, I really wish you’d reconsider going,” she says with a heartbreaking look at me. “And your hair. All that beautiful hair. The last time you cut it was—”
“Freshman year,” I interrupt, meeting her gaze in the mirror for a moment. “I know.”
I cut off most of my hair last night with Rebekah. My shoulder-length dark locks are now all short and pixie-like, styled a lot like hers, but with less of a giant swoop on the side. I’ve got it dyed a blood orange with shocks of red and yellow throughout, which make the fake yellow-framed glasses I’m wearing as a disguise look even more fierce and intense. I blink a few times, my face awash in color. Bright hair, pastel glasses, green eyes.
It’s hard to recognize the person in front of me now. I love the glasses, the hair is fun, and I feel like a character out of a fantasy novel, ready to do battle.
Final Fantasy (D)1V.
Come at me, bros.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” my mom presses, following me out of the bathroom and into our living room. She flops down on the old couch, the one that sinks and hurts my entire body. I think about how, after the panel, I’ll have just enough to help pay for her last class and maybe find some used furniture. I’ve still got my savings, and while the speaking fee isn’t exactly a wild amount of money, it’s enough to get us right over the edge with what I’ve already got saved. She fidgets about, trying to get comfortable, and I shake my head.
“What?” she asks, leaning back into the cushions.
“Nothing,” I say with a huff. “I need to do this, Mom. Not just for the speaker fee, which will put an end to all of this.” I point over in the direction of my bedroom, toward the computer. “But for you and for myself. All the blogs are talking. No one thinks I’m going to show up. Everyone thinks I’ve disappeared. They’ll see. They’re all gonna see. And then they won’t. ’Cause then I will disappear.”