Free Taking Off by Jenny Moss Page A

looked disappointed. Then he started laughing again. “And you’re sure your mom said yes?”
    “Yes, Dad, she said yes.”
    Dad grinned. “We’re going to have us a time, Annie. We’ll have us an adventure like Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady.”
    “Not really, Dad.”
    “Who are they?” asked Mark, looking grumpy.
    “Kerouac wrote a novel called On the Road —,” I began.
    “Not really a novel,” interrupted Dad. “Very autobiographical.”
    “You didn’t even finish it,” I said.
    “I did. I just skimmed the second part. I didn’t like that part much. But it’s a great book, Mark. The manifesto of the Beats.”
    Poor Mark. Dad was on a roll. I closed my eyes and let him talk. The stars had aligned: Cape Canaveral, here I come.

CHAPTER 17

    I checked the mailbox. A lone letter. I grabbed it.
    It was my own envelope, with my own name, my own address written on it in my own handwriting. The envelope had creases where I had folded it carefully to put in the envelope I mailed.
    A rejection.
    I sat on the curb, pulling my coat around me.

CHAPTER 18

    T he kitchen was warm and a heaven of baking smells. Mom was baking, and I was eating what she baked, at least some of it. She wouldn’t let me touch the pies, which were for Donald’s office party.
    That was so unfair. Their perfect flaky crusts edged over the sides of red ceramic pie pans, tempting me. When Mom wasn’t looking, I pinched off a piece. I loved crust. I needed to bake a pie crust and just eat that. I should write a poem about a pie crust with no filling. It could be a metaphor; for what I didn’t know.
    It was a nice afternoon, with just the two of us. We talked about baking, about the family, about nothing really. It was nice. The moment felt right for me to ask her what was on my mind. “Mom, why is it so important to you for me to take Donald’s money?”
    Mom rolled her shoulders. “Two reasons, I guess.”
    “Okay. Shoot.”
    She was thinking. I tried to be patient. “First, I want you to do what I never got to do.”
    “Right. Go to college.”
    “Partly. But yes, mainly. And, Annie, money is an issue for us. And for you to get offered this money … honey, do you realize how your life opens up with possibility because of that? College will do that for you.”
    “But what if I don’t want to go, Mom?”
    “But why, why wouldn’t you?” she asked, throwing a hand up in the air. And with that, our peaceful afternoon was ruined. Why did I try?
    “I think you want to go,” I said. “So you’re trying to live through me.”
    “Annie. No. I want you to have a chance to see what’s out there.”
    “Out where?” I asked. “You know, we live just thirty minutes from a city of two million. A very international city.”
    “Isn’t there something you want to see besides Texas?”
    “Sure,” I said. “But I don’t think I have to go to college to do that.”
    She bit into a cookie.
    “Mom, just because you want something doesn’t mean that I want it.”
    “Let me ask you, Annie. Why don’t you want to go to college? Why don’t you want to leave Clear Lake? Is it Mark?”
    I shook my head, then shrugged.
    “So it is Mark?”
    I felt like crying. I was so frustrated. Even if I wanted to go somewhere, where would I go?
    And there was Mark, who loved me, who wanted to be with me. That felt good and certain. I could rely on him. He’d always be there for me, no matter what went wrong.
    I couldn’t say any of this to Mom.
    “Annie?”
    I closed my eyes until I felt calmer. “Mom, I’ll take the money for Florida from Donald. But can we just put off the other decision until later?”
    “You mean about him paying for college?”
    And me actually going to college. “Yes.”
    “Sure,” she said, getting up to answer the ringing phone. It was Donald.
    It was only later that I realized she didn’t tell me the second reason why she wanted me to take the money.

PART TWO

    “If anything, the overriding emotion is
gonna