“Really?” I ask. “That would be amazing. I haven’t even been to the lodge where the movie was filmed and that’s right here in Oregon.”
“Not much of a skier? I hear Timberline is a great place to go.”
“Not by choice,” I answer. “I’d love to take up snowboarding one day if I could ever afford it. Honestly, I’ve rarely been away from the coast. Not many opportunities for someone like me.”
“What does that mean? Someone like you?”
He’s seen where I live; what I drive. He’s met my mother. You’d think it’d be pretty self-explanatory. I give him an incredulous look.
“What does that mean, Kat?” he repeats.
I sigh. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?”
“I think you do.”
Okay, now I’m getting angry. Why is he making me verbalize this?
“Hmm, let’s see.” I use my fingers to tick off the reasons. “For one, I’ve been bounced around the system most of my life. The majority of that time has been spent in a group home. Two, it should be pretty obvious by my current living conditions that money is tight. Cybil doesn’t have a very…conventional job. The only reason we can afford our shitty apartment is because she receives assistance from the state. Any money she does have left is spent feeding her addictions.” He winces at that last admission. “Three, now that she’s moving out, I won’t even have that to rely on. Four,—”
“What do you mean
she’s moving out?” he interrupts.
“She’s moving in with her fiancé at the end of the month.”
“And she’s going without you?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Which part isn’t clear? She’s moving out. I’m not; therefore, I have to figure out how to pay the bills.”
“She can’t do that,” he argues. “You’re still in school.”
“I’m also a legal adult in case you forgot.”
“Oh trust me, I haven’t forgotten that,” he mutters. “I just meant that she can’t just leave you to fend for yourself while you’re still in school. How are you supposed to pay for anything?”
Oh, shit, I didn’t see the conversation leading here.
“I found a gig that pays really well. I’ll be working less than twenty hours a week but I’ll easily be able to make rent.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What kind of job?”
“It’s nothing illegal if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“You mentioned you’re starting today.”
“I did,” I confirm.
“So, I’ll ask again. What kind of job? And where?”
I cross my arms in defiance. “I don’t think that’s information a teacher needs to know. Do you?”
“It is if I’m concerned about your well-being. As a teacher, I’m responsible for students when they’re away from their parents.”
“Not if the student is eighteen.”