What Happens to Goodbye

“It’s a breakfast smoothie,” he explained. “You should try one, they’re seriously good. Just drink it slow. It’s called that for a reason.”

I smiled. “So why did you take the job?”
“It just looked like fun,” he said. “I mean, I’ been assisting at my mom’s lab since I was ten, doing research, writing up experiment notes. It was interesting, but it’s not like I had much in common with the professors there. One day I was at FrayBake, getting my usual, and they had a help wanted sign up. I applied and they hired me. Simple as that.”
“So much for the lab,” I said.
“Yeah, well. There are plenty of kid geniuses around that building. I don’t think anyone but my mom missed me that much.” He pulled at some more grass. “Anyway, I made some friends my own age, started doing things on the weekends other than read and study. Which was unnerving enough. But then, that summer, I told them I wanted to transfer to Jackson. They said absolutely not, pointing out all these statistics about the test scores and student-teacher ratio—”
“They countered with research?”
“They’re scientists,” he said as if this explained everything. “Eventually, I got them to agree to it, but only for a semester, and only because I already had more than enough credits to graduate.”
“This was last year?”
He nodded.
“You could have graduated as a sophomore?”
“Actually,” he replied with a cough, “I had enough credits after ninth grade.”
“Holy crap,” I said. “How smart are you?”
“Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”
I bit my lip. “Sorry.”
He shot me a fake-annoyed look, which made me snort, and then continued. “So I transferred. And then, you know, I started hanging out more with Riley and Heather, and went to a few parties, and blew off my Physics Bowl practice.”
“Sounds pretty normal,” I said. “Except for the Physics Bowl thing.”
“For some people. Not for me.” He cleared his throat. “Look, it’s not like I’m proud of it. But I was almost eighteen and I’d never done anything, you know, normal. And suddenly, I was at this big school, where no one knew me. I could be whoever I wanted. And I didn’t want to be the super-serious smart kid anymore.”
I had a flash of all those schools I’d attended, a blur of hallways and closed doors. “I can understand that,” I said.
“Yeah?”
I nodded.
“The point is, they were already not happy with me. And then I started planning this trip for after graduation, instead of going to Brain Camp, which didn’t help things.”
“Brain Camp?”
“This math thing I’ve done every summer since fifth grade,” he explained. “I was supposed to be a counselor again this year. But Ellis, Riley, Heather, and I want to do this big road trip to Texas. Which is, you know, somewhat less academic.”
I smiled. “Travel is educational.”
“I pointed that out. They weren’t buying it, though.” He looked down at his hands again. “Anyway, it was my crappy luck that in the middle of all this I w that party and got busted. Which made the trip a moot point.”
The door to my neighbors’ house banged, and someone came out and got into one of the cars parked in the front yard. They cranked the engine, hitting the gas a few times, the sound filling the street. When they pulled away, it felt even quieter than it had before.
“So you’re not going?”
“I have a lot to prove,” he said, his voice formal and stiff, clearly quoting. “Trust to earn back. If they feel I’ve made progress in those areas, they might reconsider it.”
“Might.”
“Might,” he said. He smiled at me. “I’ve got a lot hanging on that ‘might.’ Probably too much.”
“Riley says they were scared,” I said finally. “That they thought they were losing you.”
“I get that,” he said. “But it’s like, are there only two choices? Either I’m a delinquent in a fast downward spiral, or becoming a physicist, right on schedule? How is that possible?”
“You need a third option,” I said.
“Or at least the chance to look around for one,” he replied. “Which, I guess, is what I’m waiting for now. Toeing the line, doing my time, following the rules, and trying to figure out what comes next.”
“Wow,” I said. “You really are a disappointment.”
“Yep,” he agreed, stone-faced. “Although coming from a terrible daughter who is cruel to her mother, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I smiled, digging my hands more deeply into my pockets. I was starting to really feel the cold now, and wondered what time it was.
“Seriously, though,” Dave said after a moment, “for what it’s worth, I can tell you that from the outside at least, your mom seems like she’s trying. And sometimes that’s all you can do.”
“So you’re taking her side,” I said.
“I don’t believe in sides.” He sat back, planting his palms on the strip of grass behind us. “People do crappy things for all kinds of reasons. You can’t even begin to understand.”
“It’s not my job to understand,” I said, my voice sounding sharper than I intended. “I didn’t do anything. I was just an innocent bystander.”
Dave didn’t say anything, still looking up.

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