“You ask him.”
“I am not asking him.”
“Why not?”
“Because. It’s invasive.”
“You’re not giving him a colonoscopy. You’re asking what his grades are. A good GPA leads to a good job and a good life. Remember that.”
“That is so antiquated. There are plenty of successful people who didn’t graduate college. Look at Bill Gates and Steve Jobs.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Cheryl raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize he invented the next Microsoft and Apple. Send me a demo so I can show it off to my friends.”
“Har-har.” Farrah threw a popcorn kernel at the screen while her mom laughed. “I’m just saying, grades aren’t everything. Blake’s smart and works hard. And I really like him.”
Cheryl’s face softened. “I can tell. I’m glad you found someone you like so much. As long as he treats you well and isn’t a dum-dum.” She shuddered. “Don’t marry a stupid guy or spend the rest of your life taking care of him.”
“Mom, I’m wayyy too young to think about marriage.”
“I’m not saying get married now. You’re almost twenty. By the time you graduate, get a job, and date for a few years, it’ll be time. You don’t want to wait too long to have babies. You won’t have the energy to run after them. Take me, for example.”
“Hey! I was a good baby,” Farrah protested. “Besides, you had me when you were twenty-eight.”
“Yes, and it would’ve been easier if I had you when I was twenty-five.”
Over Farrah’s dead body. “I want to enjoy my twenties, thank you very much.”
Cheryl shook her head. “You’re young. You don’t listen to me now, but you’ll see.”
“How did we get on this subject?” Farrah uncrossed her legs and shook them out. Tingles shot up and down her thighs and shins. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Drama at the association, as usual.” Cheryl was a member of a local Chinese dance association that, technically, focused on ballroom dancing but was really an excuse for L.A.’s older Chinese community to gather weekly and gossip. “Elections for the presidency are coming up, and everyone’s fighting over it. So stupid.”
Cheryl always complained about the other members but refused to take Farrah’s advice and quit. Then again, between the dance outings, potlucks, holiday parties, and weekend trips to Canada, she had a better social life than Farrah.
“You should run for president.”
“Ha! I go to dance and eat free food. They can fight over the presidency all they want. I have enough to do at my real job.”
Valid.
“By the way…” Cheryl’s eyes sparkled. “Something came for you in the mail today.” She brandished an envelope with a distinctive gold and pale green logo in the upper left corner.
Farrah’s heart stuttered. The competition. Holy shit.
She’d submitted her application and portfolio in early January and hadn’t expected to receive finalist results until March. There was one more round after that, but still, this was a big freakin’ deal. She was either moving forward or dead in the water.
“I didn’t open it—”
“Open it!” Farrah raised her fist to her mouth. Her heart was this close to leaping out of her chest, reaching through the screen, and ripping that envelope open.
This was it.
Make it or break it time.
Oh god, what if she didn’t make it to the final round? What was she going to do? Farrah had applied to a few other internships just in case, but to be honest, she hadn’t tried her hardest on those and they—
“You’re a finalist.”