Free Coin Heist by Elisa Ludwig

tried to meddle in my love life. If I could even call Dylan a love life. At one time, I’d had a crush on him, definitely. But these days I could barely hold a conversation with him. All he ever wanted to talk about was lacrosse and video games. I wasn’t even sure I was attracted to him anymore, not like I’d say that in front of my parents, who would freak out—they loved me dating a state senator’s son. We were HF’s resident power couple, and my parents, themselves popular in high school, wouldn’t accept me dating someone beneath my social station. “It’s not about Dylan. It’s about school work . . .”
    â€œWell, you shouldn’t worry about that. If need be, you could repeat eleventh grade, just to make sure you had everything in place,” my dad said.
    â€œI can’t repeat eleventh grade.” The idea was hideous. Hansen had said it herself: The sooner you get to college, the sooner you can be your own person.
    â€œThere’s no stigma. It’s very common when people transfer to Bertrand,” my dad explained, patiently, like he was talking to an elderly client. “The curriculum is so sophisticated that some students need a catch-up.”
    â€œI can’t. I won’t. Besides, the eighteenth is in two weeks and I have exams, I have papers. We have the prom to plan, and the yearbook . . .”
    My mom raised her eyebrow at my dad and nodded subtly, like Let me do this. “Don’t you see that you’re holding on to a sinking ship, Dakota? Haverford Friends might not be around next fall, and even if it is, there will be cuts. There will be fewer teachers, no activities, no SAT prep. ”
    â€œI’m already taking private SAT prep,” I pointed out.
    â€œBut you might want to avail yourself of the school’s SAT prep as well next year. You never know. You want to have options. The point is this: You’ve worked way too hard to give up everything now. Also, Bertrand is not too far from Brown, and Hansen said she could come visit you on the weekends. Or you could visit her when you don’t have to study.”
    â€œYou talked to Hansen about this before mentioning it to me?” That was the ultimate.
    â€œI wanted her input,” my mom said.
    â€œHow about my input? This is my life!”
    â€œYou’re getting all worked up,” my dad said, setting down his espresso glass with a tiny little clink. “I told you we should wait on this, Monica. At least until after the school day. Now she’s going to be distracted.”
    â€œYou’re right. I will be distracted.” I nervously ran both my hands through my hair, messing up the twenty minutes I’d spent arranging it. “You guys don’t understand. I have enough to worry about right now. I don’t want to think about switching, and even if I did, I can’t handle applying to some other school. It’s too much work.”
    â€œWe can take care of it for you,” my dad said.
    â€œThat would be cheating.” Was he losing his mind? “Besides, I’m responsible for too many things. People are depending on me, and it would be selfish for me to just bail out. I’m the council vice president. Ms. Coyle said I’m supposed to help keep up the spirits of the students.”
    â€œShe said that?” My mom shook her head in disgust. “That’s her job. Your job is, simply, to be the best. And you’re doing that, sweetie. Which is why I don’t want you to throw it all away out of some misplaced loyalty.”
    â€œIt’s not misplaced. I’ve been at HF since pre-kindergarten. You always told me that I had to wear my colors proudly. And I’m doing that.” They were the ones who'd encouraged me to care so much. They were the ones who'd told me to get so involved and devote myself to the school’s motto. And now they wanted me to throw all that away and think only of