Free Perception by Kim Harrington Page B

flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry.”
    Perry looked back at his laptop, his concentration easily returning.
    “What are you up to?” I peered over his shoulder.
    “Homework for my online class.”
    His online class. When he should be out in a real-world class. In college.
    I sat down on Perry’s bed and rested my chin in my hands. “Can we talk about what we haven’t been talking about?”
    Perry tilted his chair backward and propped his feet on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. “I’m sure Mom would do a better job than you with the birds-and-bees talk.”
    “Perry, be serious. I’m worried about you. And don’t do your usual thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Act like a jerk, then storm off.”
    “A jerk?” He brought his feet down off the desk.
    “I know that’s not who you are; it’s just something you’re doing to keep me from asking more questions. But I’m not scared of you or your crappy attitude and I’m going to keep asking questions, so you might as well spill. What’s up with you lately?”
    He considered that for a moment, then drew a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m going to go to school in January, either. I might take the whole year off.”
    I understood why he’d deferred one semester. But I was not expecting him to say he was planning on postponing college even more. What was this, a quarter-life crisis?
    “I don’t know what I want to major in, what I want to do with my life,” he said.
    I sat up straight, glad he was finally talking about it and maybe open to advice. “Well, what are you good at? What do you like?”
    “The only thing I seem to be good at is mediumship. But isn’t four years of college a whole lot of wasted time and money if I’m just going to end up back here doing what I’m already doing now?” He sighed. “Maybe I should skip college altogether.”
    Whoa, whoa, whoa. This was not going in the direction I’d wanted. “Perry, you don’t have to have it all figured out now. Take a bunch of classes, see what strikes a chord.”
    He frowned. “I don’t know. Look at Nate. He’s known for years that he wants to be a journalist. He wrote for the school paper, got a great summer internship at the local paper, and how he’s majoring in journalism. He won’t just get a great job out of college. He’ll get a career. He’s got it all figured out.”
    “Not everyone does, though. If you’d gone this semester, I’m sure you’d have found that most people are like you, not Nate. And just because he knows what he wants careerwise, that doesn’t mean he has everything all figured out.”
    “What do you mean?”
    I shrugged. “I think he’s pretty miserable at school.”
    “What gives you that idea?”
    “Well, for one, he comes home to see your fug face every weekend instead of staying there.”
    Perry chuckled. “Yeah, I’m the one he comes home to see. Right.”
    Before I could ask what that meant, the front door slammed.
    “That’s either Mom or Nate,” Perry whispered. “And Idon’t want to talk about this college thing with either of them yet.” He aimed a thumb at the door. “Make yourself scarce, little sis.”
    I gave him the evil eye on my way out. He couldn’t hide this forever.
    And Mom was not going to be happy when she found out.

GABRIEL OFFERED ME A RIDE TO SCHOOL AGAIN Monday morning, and that might have been the reason I wore my tight, nice-ass jeans rather than the slightly baggy comfortable ones I preferred. When I heard the car pull into the driveway, I gave my mom a peck on the cheek, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and headed out.
    Gabriel smiled as I climbed into the passenger side. “Happy Monday.”
    “Yeah,” I replied dumbly. I wished I had something cooler to say, like those girls who always had sexy comebacks to every statement a hot guy made. But my mind was blank, my mouth was dry, and my heart was racing.
    Gabriel did that to me.
    He put the car in reverse, the side of his hand grazing my