Free The Wild One by Gemma Burgess

blue, when you know it’s going to be superhot later on, but right now the day still feels sparkly and new. “I quit, actually. I work in a bar now.”
    â€œPreschool teaching is tough,” says Samantha. “Everyone thinks it’s all singing and sweetness, but it’s not. It’s intense and exhausting.”
    I glance at her curiously.
    â€œI started as a preschool teacher,” she continues. “I very quickly realized it just wasn’t for me and went back to college and started again.”
    â€œYou did?” I’m stunned. I never heard of anyone doing that. I mean, sure, there’s grad school and medical school and MBAs and all that, but starting all over again from the beginning? “You mean like … a do-over?”
    Samantha laughs. “Sure. A do-over.”
    â€œI don’t even know what I’d do,” I say. “Like, I don’t know what I’d study.”
    â€œEver looked into the options?” asks Vic, just as Madeleine comes back out with her tea.
    Suddenly everyone looks at me.
    Since when is this a counsel-Coco-on-her-career-choices session? I try not to answer, but they’re all looking at me with such friendly openness, waiting.
    But then, out of nowhere, comes the truth. “Um, well, I guess I would study literature or something. But it’s so stupid. What job would I get after?”
    Samantha smiles, throwing her hands into the air. “There are a million options.”
    â€œI don’t want options,” I say. “I want to know. ”
    Samantha and Vic laugh as though I made a hilarious joke. “You’ll figure it out as you go along, like the rest of us.”
    I gaze at her for a second, trying to digest this.
    Figure it out as I go along? That’s never been part of our family dialogue. According to my father, we have to know what we want and then make it happen. That’s what Julia always does.
    If we can’t, then someone will tell us what we want and make it happen for us. I remember looking at colleges online—Smith, Vassar, Wellesley, Bowdoin—feeling the strangest mix of longing and fear. It was what I wanted most, and what I was most scared of. But my dad and Julia both thought it wasn’t a good use of my time, that I needed something smaller, simpler, something that wouldn’t stress me out.
    But truthfully, they thought I wasn’t smart enough. And I thought they must be right. Why did I listen to them? Why didn’t I tell them what I wanted?
    Because I didn’t know how.
    Maybe I could go back to college now …
    But then I’d have to leave Rookhaven and my friends. Start over, in every possible way. I’d have to choose a college and share a room and meet new people. Oh, God, they’d probably just dismiss me straightaway. None of the girls would be friends with me, and I wouldn’t get invited to parties. It would just be a more intense version of high school, a big clique from which I’ll be excluded. I’d probably flunk out too, and the whole thing would be another huge mortifying mistake. And it would be all my fault.
    How long have I been gazing into space, just thinking like this? Samantha and Vic are still looking at me. Angie is picking mascara out of her eyelashes, and Pia is texting.
    I force a smile at Samantha. “Thanks. But I’m fine right where I am.”
    â€œSamantha!” Julia bounds out of the kitchen, her hair still wet from the shower, wearing shorts and a surprisingly booby tank top. “So nice to see you! Hi, Vic!”
    â€œJulia,” says Vic, smirking slightly at her bloodshot eyes and still-flushed face. “Late night?”
    â€œMe? No.” Julia can’t meet his eyes. We Russottis are not good liars.
    Samantha doesn’t waste any time. “Well, girls, I’m here to ask your help. A group of my grad students are doing a study on