Page 61 of Intermission

“So what are your college plans, Noah?” Ryan asks.

Noah glances at me and then back to Ryan. “If you would have asked me a week ago, I wouldn’t have been able to give you a confident answer. But I finally got my acceptance letter this week, and it looks like I’ll be heading to the London Academy of Musical Theatre.”

“Oh, right. I think Faith mentioned something about that.”

“You got in?” My voice is smaller than it should be.

“Yeah.” Noah nods but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I got in.”

“When do you leave?”

“August tenth.”

A sudden burning sensation shoots through the bridge of my nose, stealing my ability to form a coherent thought. I need to saysomething. This is big news. This is what he wants. This is the beginning of his dream coming true. I should be supportive. I should be happy for him. And Iam, but—

Say something!My brain screams.

“Congratulations, Noah. That’s—” I swallow. “That’s awesome.” The spinach dip sours in my stomach. “Um, which program?”

Noah finally meets my eyes. “The three-year program.”

Under the table, he reaches for my hand and gives it a firm squeeze that seems to say, “I’m sorry.”

“I got the letter yesterday. Apparently someone dropped out, and I was next in line.”

I can’t believe he didn’t call me. Or at least text me. This is huge. Life-changing. For both of us.

And I’m finding out about it... like this? He could have told me. Heshouldhave told me.

I try to pull my hand away, but Noah doesn’t let me.

“I wanted to tell you right away, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to ruin this trip for you. I’m sorry.”

I’m being stupid. Selfish. I should be happy for him. “No, no. It’s fine.” I force a smile. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

I am,I argue against the crumbling sensation in my chest.I am happy for him.

But I’m devastated for me.

I try to smile, but I fear the attempt isn’t all that convincing.

“Congratulations, Noah,” Ryan says, clearing his throat around the awkwardness that’s descended on our table. “I take it that’s a pretty good program, huh?”

“It is.”

“Have you ever been across the pond?”

“If you mean England, no. Unless you count a couple of airport layovers when I was a kid,” Noah says. “But I’ve been overseas more than I’ve been stateside. My parents are missionaries. We lived in Eastern Europe for most of my childhood.”

“Missionaries. Right. I think Faith might have mentioned that. How do your parents feel about you pursuing a life in the theatre? That’s a far cry from the mission field.”

“I’m sure they would have liked for me to share their calling, but they understand that I don’t,” Noah says. “Dad and Mom run a fine arts camp for kids—that’s where I caught the theatre bug in the first place. They’ve said there’ll always be a place for me on the camp staff, if I’m interested in joining them, but they also know that choosing a job outside of vocational ministry isn’t going to negate my faith.” The corner of Noah’s mouth lifts. “Besides, I’m an adult, and it’s my life to live. They get that.”

There’s a subtle change to Ryan’s expression when Noah says, “I’m an adult.” When he glances my way, however, I look down at my plate.

It’s true. Technically, Noah is an adult.

I am not.