I’m lucky to have parents who love me unconditionally. I realize that now more than ever.
But this destination I’ve arrived at—it shouldn’t have taken hurting them both to get here. I should’ve been better.
I’m going to try to be better.
I tell them it’s not just that I feel guilty about what I did to them—I’m also humiliated. Because despite all my hard work, I still failed. I couldn’t be a trapeze artist, even though I tried as hard as I possibly could.
My parents knew this would happen all along, but I didn’t want to believe them.
And the truth is, I feel lost without a dream. Empty.
Maybe it’s a good thing they’d never supported me. Because at least this way, they didn’t waste anything.
They didn’t have to set their hearts on a dream only to watch it break because their daughter isn’t good enough.
Dad tells me people don’t always get what they want, even when they try their hardest. He says that’s part of life, and that people aren’t entitled to things just because they tried.
Mom points out that this is exactly why she wanted me to have a backup plan, and that I should think about starting school in January if I can sign up for classes late.
Bitterness crawls through me. Because a part of me wants to flinch at their words, to point out that after everything, they still don’t get it.
But then I remember that I failed. I came home.
My parents were right about everything, and I need to accept it.
I tell Mom I’ll think about college.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
I ask Chloe to meet me at our local Starbucks. Despite everything, she agrees. It makes me think our friendship is going to be okay. That I’ll be able to repair what I’ve broken.
I offer to buy her a Pink Drink, but she insists on paying for her own.
I guess it should’ve been a sign of how the conversation was going to go.
Because when I tell Chloe how sorry I am, she doesn’t forgive me the way Mom and Dad did.
She says she told me she was afraid of us drifting apart, and that I let it happen anyway. She tells me I wasn’t a good friend to her, that I moved on as soon as something better came along, and that I hurt her.
She says she doesn’t know if things can go back to the way they were, because we haven’t been friends in months.
She says she’s already had time to get used to that, and maybe we’re better off doing our own things.
It’s a breakup I didn’t realize was coming.
I cry at home until my cheeks feel tender and my eyes are swollen, and when I’m staring in the mirror wondering how the hell I got here, I realize it’s my fault. I brought this on myself.
Because even if I hate that he said it, maybe Vas was right about the way I’ve been treating people I claim to care about. I never stop to think how other people feel until it’s too late.
I try to remember if I’ve always been this way, or if I changed the more desperate I became to chase my dreams. And the truth is, I don’t know.
I have no idea how many people there are who I need to make amends with. I don’t know how far back a list like that would go. I was never keeping track before, because I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
But there’s one person I do remember. One person I know I hurt by accident.
And I know exactly what I need to do to fix it.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Teatro della Notte feels like a friend I haven’t seen in years. I’m searching its building for quirks and details that will remind me it’s the same friend after all, and that nothing’s really changed.
But I can’t find them. Everything looks different. The black is grayer, the gold paler. Even the smell of the air is different, like dust and asphalt.
It’s changed.
Or maybe I’ve changed, because I can’t help thinking how much I miss the smell of popcorn.
The doorman at the back is a stranger, with short blond hair and stern eyes. “Entrance is just around the front, ma’am.”
“I’m Kenji and Delilah’s daughter,” I say, and it feels unnatural.
“Do you have some ID?” he asks, arms folded at his chest.
I start to dig through my bag. “Where’s Billy?”
“Who?”
Maybe a lot has changed since I’ve been gone. “Never mind,” I say, holding my ID