Again, But Better

Keep it together, or they’ll know something’s wrong. You’ve
made it this far. You can lie if they ask. You’re just trying to follow your
dreams. There’s nothing wrong with that.
I don’t know how to lie to their faces like this. I’ve never kept
anything from them. I’ve never had to.
Conversation comes to a screeching halt when Mom’s where-have-
you-traveled game hits Amy. There’s a long pause while my parents
wait expectantly for her to speak.

---

“I, um…” she sputters. 
Come on, Amy, say something. Keep the
focus on travel.
She shakes her head slightly. My feet bounce against the
floor. Too long. She’s taking too long. Dad’s uncomfortable with long
silences. He’s going to change the subject!
“London?” she offers just as Dad jumps in with, “Everyone’s
working! Is it going well?”
I’ll stay silent. I can’t raise suspicions if I never speak.
I pull out my brick phone and fiddle with it absently. I’m busy. I’m
not suspicious. I’m phone.
“Yeah! I’m working in the West End, and I’ve seen so many plays.
It’s been such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Atticus shares.
“I work at Disney headquarters here! And it’s so much fun. I can’t
wait to actually work for the company someday,” Babe adds.
“Wow, great.” Dad’s head swings from me to Sahra. “Sahra, you
work with Shane at the health clinic, right?” I put down the phone.
If I were a mute cartoon character, I’d hold up my sign for the
audience—
Help!
I find myself looking at Pilot.
Before Sahra can answer, Pilot abruptly offers his own response,
“I’m actually working for an accounting office. Are you interested in
accounting, Mr. Primaveri? You do something in finance, right?”
Did I tell him that? I must have. Dad’s expression scrunches into one
of distaste. I’m immediately nervous for Pilot.
Dad shakes it off. “What? I was talking to Sahra,” he says
dismissively. He brings his attention back to Sahra. “Sahra, I was sayin’,
how’s it workin’ at the health clinic with Shane?”
“I don’t—” Sahra starts.
Pilot speaks over her. “Sorry, sir, I was, accounting’s really
interesting, and I thought—” he interjects again.
“Excuse me, would you stop—I’m talking to Sahra.” Dad shakes his
head in disbelief. “Sahra—”
I would smile if I wasn’t already busy being terrified.
“Yeah, I actually work at a la—” Sahra insists.
Her words are muffled as Pilot continues to loudly babble: “Sir, I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I know Sahra’s tired, and I was just
excited to talk about accounting…”
“Pilot, what the hell?” Sahra exclaims.

---

Dad swivels his gaze back to Pilot. “What’s your name again?
Pilosh?” he bellows.
“Pilot, sir.”
“Wouldja shut up for just second and let me talk to Sahra, please?
You can talk next.” He uses his angry-joking voice.
Pilot swallows visibly. He catches my eye as he surrenders,
shoulders sagging. “Yes, sir. Of course.”
Dad huffs. “Now I’m gonna say this one more time, 
Sahra
.” He
widens his eyes at Pilot and turns to Sahra. “How’s it been at the health
clinic with Shane? You enjoying it?”
Sahra’s eyebrows pull together. “Yeah, I work at a law office…”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Open them.
Dad’s looking at me. “What?”
“Yeah, I work at the law office of Millard J. Robinson and
Associates,” I hear Sahra continue. Dad’s eyebrows draw together as he
holds my gaze. My lips flop up and down, but nothing comes out.
The conversation descends into chaos.
“Uh, Sahra must have gotten conf—” Pilot starts.
“Our mistake, sweetie. For some reason Shane told us you worked
with her at the clinic.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you working at a law office if you’re
premed?” my dad booms at Sahra. “They’re allowed to give you an
irrelevant internship? That’s not right!”
“Shane, how’d you confuse that, sweetie?” my mom coos.
“I’m not premed. I’m prelaw,” Sahra explains.
“Prelaw?” echoes Mom.
“What?” My father’s face flushes a bright shiny red, and he turns his
attention back to me.