They Thought I Failed—Until I Turned Down Harvard novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: Thanksgiving

Aunt Jo got off the plane on Wednesday night with a carry-on full of frozen pie dough and her gray folder.

"I don't trust California butter," she said, hugging me so hard my back cracked.

She hugged Flynn next, who stood very straight.

"You're thinner," she told him.

"I've been in finals."

"That's not an excuse. You will eat."

On Thursday morning, which was Thanksgiving, I sat in a coffee shop on University Avenue.

Jo sat on my right, and I had a cup I wasn't drinking.

My parents had stayed at a hotel all week.

Mom had texted every night, always the same words: We'll be here if you want us.

They came in at ten, exactly on time, in the same two coats.

Dad pulled out a chair for Mom, and then stood there, not knowing whether to sit.

"Sit," said Jo.

He sat.

I had written it on an index card, because I knew my voice would break.

I did not take out the card.

"You get thirty minutes," I said. "I'm going to say four things, and you don't have to answer any of them."

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