Page 44 of Love at Full Tilt

I look at Dad. “Remember, I talked to you from Issy’s phone.”

He begrudgingly confirms it. I don’t know why this is what sets me off, but a sob blubbers out of me at his angry hmph.

“None of this matters anyway.”

“What happened?” Mom squeezes my hand.

I shrug hard. “He lives here. I don’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about him, instead of all these lies?” she asks.

“Because you would have been on the first plane out here to collect me.”

My father shakes his head. “Untrue.”

I gape at him, flourishing my hands to indicate their presence.

“We’re here because you lied, Amelia,” Dad says. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but we trust you. You could have told us.”

Trust me? I almost laugh. My parents have never shown me anything but endless worry. And that’s basically the opposite of trust.

Near Mom’s chair, a scrap of paper peeks out from the mussed comforter.

A piece of one of my notebooks that I tore up.

Tess and Issy must have cleaned up the rest. I jolt to my feet and grab the paper, turning it over in my hands like it’s some kind of lifeline.

But both sides are blank; it’s just a corner.

I can’t believe I did this to my research. What if I need these notes tomorrow?

I crush the paper between my fingers, and its edges drag along the skin of my palm.

The whole purpose of this trip, of this contest, was to help me find a new future.

One that didn’t involve me living at home forever.

Living buried beneath my mom’s worries forever.

The contest isn’t over yet, but I’ve seen the mermaids at Neptune’s Launch.

I’ve eaten desserts good and gross at the Curséd Apple.

I’ve walked through Elorra’s laboratory and watched the shadows dance in Atalantia.

I touched the fountain of rings. I saw Casterman’s unicorn and Dudley’s stash.

I’ve done so many things I never thought I would. And I vividly remember how each made me feel—that kernel of excitement that bloomed in my chest. That strong urge to find more. To do more.

To want more.

And with Mason, I gave in to that. I kissed the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. I confided in him because my heart told me to. I laid my feelings bare for him, even though I was scared.

Now my parents are here. I need to keep following that push toward something new. I have to tell them what I’m feeling.

Yet the words catch in my throat like they have claws. Clinging to my windpipe, my tongue. Anything not to leave my mouth.

I try to take a deep breath, but the air won’t slip past the giant lump in my throat. Instead, I choke, and my mother’s on her feet reaching for me, panic flaring in her eyes.

I jerk away. “ No. I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” Every word is a splinter drawing blood as it yanks out of me.

“You can’t do what?” Mom’s still on her feet, her hands extended. Her fingers are long and thin and tense, like they might crack at the knuckles at any moment. Every part of her is so breakable.

I have to repeat the words in my head four times before I can form them out loud.

“I don’t want to work at the store.” I stare at the carpet, at the scuffed toes of my sneakers, anywhere but at my parents.

My hands are clenched in the hem of my T-shirt so they won’t shake.

“That scavenger hunt I came down here for? The prize is fifty thousand dollars.”

My father nods. “We know.”

“What?” I stare between him and my mother in shock. “How?”

“I had to know everything about this contest before I could let you go,” my mom says.

“But you still did?”

“It didn’t seem likely you’d win,” she explains. “And we know how much you love this place.”

“It seemed harmless,” my father adds. “A good chance for you to have time with your friends before they leave.”

Their doubt should probably hurt more than it does, but I’m too drained to feel anything else. “I’m still in it. There’s only twenty-five of us left.”

“And if you win?” My father’s voice is low. Scratchy.

“I want to move down here. Get a job here. Do something that I want.”

They’re quiet for way too long. If not for the sound of their breathing and the weight of their gazes on me, I would have believed they’d up and walked out.

Nothing about this feels like relief. I’m not lighter or freer. Instead, my body’s filled with lead. Anchoring me forever to the ground. To this awful moment.

When my dad clears his throat, the sound ripples off me like he’s thrown a stone.

“I see.” That’s all he says. Two words.

Next to him, my mother sucks in a puff of air.

I sink to the floor. Dig my fingers in the plush carpet. “You never asked me if I wanted to spend my life selling furniture.”

Mom grasps the sleeve of Dad’s button-down shirt. Her fist is a bouquet of white knuckles. “We did that for you, sweetie.”

“I know, b—”

“So you would have something to take care of you. To keep you secure.” Dad’s face is stricken.

This is what I didn’t want to do: hurt them.

I cover my eyes with my hands. “I know. And I love you guys for wanting to take care of me. But I was a baby when you made these decisions. You had no idea who I would be. What I would want. And because you’d already made those choices, I didn’t bother to find out either.”

“Amelia.” Dad settles on his knees in front of me. He carefully pries my hands from my face, then holds them in his.

“Everyone I know has these big dreams. Tess wants to be some kind of CFO. Issy wants to have a restaurant. M—” I catch myself before saying his name.

“Other people want to teach or study languages or write books or whatever. And even if they don’t want to make a career out of it, they have things they love, like art or TV or animals or whatever.

I have nothing like that. Nothing but this place.

” I open my hand, and the crumpled paper tumbles onto the carpet.

Dad watches it roll away. “And like, Tess and Issy, they think it’s this one thing, the store, my job, but that’s connected to everything else. ”

“Sweetie, calm down,” Mom says.

I keep talking. “I did so many things this week. I found all these park secrets I always wanted to see. I told my friends how I feel about them leaving me. I met this boy. I started to want things. And it’s like, before all this, there was one path.

And now suddenly there’s these smaller ones branching off, but I can’t follow any of them because I’m chained to the main path.

I can’t change my future. I can’t breathe in our house.

I can’t…I can’t keep going like this. If I do, I’m afraid it’ll break me. ”

I take the deepest breath I can muster, letting the air fill my mouth, my throat.

Mom’s staring at me like I’ve slapped her, but Dad’s directly beside me now. We sit crisscross applesauce, our knees touching. He rubs his hands together. “What are you saying? You don’t want your job at the store?”

Tears prick at my eyes as I shake my head.

I tilt my chin toward the ceiling and try to blink them away.

“I want to work here. They have a storytelling department. It’s where they write the movies and come up with the parks’ lore.

I want to do that. Help other people fall in love with this place like I did.

I can’t do that working full-time for you guys. ”

Dad’s eyes sink closed, and he nods. When he opens them again, he’s got his bargaining face on. “If you don’t win, what’s the plan?”

“Eli.” Mom’s voice is shrill. Two beats away from a spiral. It cuts right through me.

“What do you mean, what’s the plan?” I say.

“You’re done with high school. You can’t come home and do nothing. So how are you going to get what you want?”

I rock back. “You’re not mad?”

He tilts his head, surprise in his eyes. “Why would I be mad? It’s your life. You need to be happy.”

I wrap the hem of my shirt around my fingers.

No matter how much I tense my muscles, I can’t stop my hands from trembling.

My parents, the hotel room, everything seems out of focus and unfamiliar.

As if the world just blinked out of existence and returned as something entirely new.

And I don’t know where I fit in this world yet.

“Can I…can I think about it?” I ask.

Dad pats my leg. “Of course.”

My mother’s face is the color of snow before anyone’s stepped in it, and her eyes are glassy with tears.

“I had no idea we made you feel this way. That I made you feel this way.” She can barely get the words out, her chin wobbling visibly.

“I just want you to be safe.” She reaches for the box of tissues on the nightstand.

Grabbing five or six, she crushes them in her hand and blots her eyes.

“But what you see as safe is suffocating to me.” I speak as gently as I can.

“I know it’s not your fault, so I’ve tried to push down all this stuff.

But it’s not helping. I walk around feeling like I’m seconds from erupting.

” I rub my temples as I blink back tears.

When my mom hands me the tissue box, I take one.

“I don’t want to keep feeling this way.”

She cups my cheek with her hand. “I don’t want you to feel this way.” Sniffling hard, she shakes her head. “But I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t just turn off my anxiety.”

My father takes her free hand. “I don’t think that’s what Lia’s asking.”

“I’m not.” I drag the tissue over my eyes. It burns. At this point, every part of my face feels like it’s on fire. “The fact that you’re listening, that you understand I need things to change, that’s something.” I blow out a breath. “It’s somewhere to start.”

Mom nods, then stands and kisses my temple. “Maybe we should go check in.”

Dad’s eyes are sad, but he gives her a soft smile. “Betsy, I don’t think we need to stay. It’s pretty clear Lia has things under control.”

Her eyes flit to me. I see the panic in them. I also see her trying to fight it.

“I’ll keep calling and texting,” I promise. As much as I hate doing it, I know she needs it. And I can give her that much after everything my father’s offered. Everything she hasn’t fought against today.

My parents agree to stay at a hotel outside the parks and let me finish the trip alone with my friends. Mom even smiles for a second as she gathers her purse to go to the business center. “We haven’t had a vacation in ages, Eli. Just the two of us.”

As she closes the door behind her, she stares back at me, unblinking, like she thinks she’ll never see me again. I guess, she won’t—not like this, anyway. By the time I get home, I’ll be someone new. Someone who gets to make choices.

Maybe that will be a good thing for both of us.

Dad and I study the door for a long time after it clicks shut. I’m the one who finally breaks the silence. “Is it really okay that I don’t want the store?”

He sighs. “I’m sorry you feel like it isn’t a possibility you could explore.”

“The store’s your life. You love it. You’re so proud of it. You’ve both worked so hard and have given up so much to make it a success. I never wanted to destroy your legacy or let you down.”

“Amelia, the store’s always going to be yours. But it can be something you have—that you inherit when we’re gone—not something you do. We can find someone else to run it.”

I scrub my hands over my face, the rough movement making my tearstained skin sting. “What if I win? Will you let me come down here to stay? Would Mom be able to handle it?”

Dad scratches at the shadow of dark stubble on his jaw.

“You heard her. She wants you to be happy. It will take time, but whatever happens, she’ll be okay.

I promise. It’s not your job to manage her anxiety.

I know sometimes I put that on you, and that’s not fair.

You have to live your life.” He slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him.

“I want you to live your life. And so does your mom.”

Live your life. The words are still echoing in my head when he stands and kisses my head. When he tells me he’ll see me Sunday. When his suitcase thump, thump, thump s out the door behindhim.

I find the torn slip of my notes and smooth it out against the carpet. For what feels like ages, I stare down at the wrinkled white surface.

Blank. Empty. New.

Just like me.