Chapter 4

The plane ride to San Francisco was smooth. I watched the patchwork of my old life shrink below, replaced by an endless expanse of clouds.

Aunt Carol was waiting for me at SFO, her smile wide and welcoming. She was a successful software engineer, a force of nature, and the one who'd always told me I could do anything.

"Welcome to California, kiddo," she said, enveloping me in a hug.

Berkeley was a whirlwind. The campus was vast, vibrant, and thrumming with an energy I'd never experienced before. My dorm room was small, but it was mine.

The classes were challenging, pushing me in ways Northwood High never had. I thrived. I joined the debate club, spent late nights in the library, and discovered a passion for contract law.

I made new friends – people who were ambitious, driven, and didn't expect me to dim my shine for someone else.

Occasionally, emails would pop up in my inbox.

From: KHeisman@localnet.com

Subject: You okay?

Em,

Just checking in. State is... okay. Brittany is struggling a bit more than we thought. Hope Berkeley isn't too tough.

Kev.

From: JSmart@localnet.com

Subject: Hey

Emily,

Heard from your mom you're doing well. That's good. Things here are... complicated. Brittany needs a lot of tutoring.

Jack.

I'd reply with polite, brief updates. "Berkeley is great. Very busy. Hope you're all well."

One package arrived a few months in. It was my old Northwood High yearbook. The page I'd torn out had been clumsily taped back in.

Across my photo, in new handwriting, Kevin had written: "We miss you."

Jack had added: "It's not the same without you."

Below that, in a loopy, unfamiliar script: "Hope you're having fun! Wish you were here to help us study! XOXO, Brittany."

I stared at it for a long moment. Then, I dropped it into the recycling bin.

I met David during a particularly intense study session for a constitutional law midterm. He was a grad student in computer science, brilliant, funny, and kind. He didn't try to manage me or tell me what my dreams should be. He just listened.

Life in California was good. I was building something new, something that was entirely my own.

The calls from Kevin and Jack became less frequent. Their emails, when they came, were tinged with a frustration I didn't bother to analyze.

I was too busy living my life.

Kevin's prediction that I'd come crying back in a month was laughable. I hadn't shed a single tear for the life I'd left behind.

Why would I? I was finally free.