Nothing gave my parents that proud glow like talking about med school. It made them happy and I couldn’t take that away from them. I’d just have to find a way to get my sculpture done on my own time. Not that this semester gave me any time of my own...
“You’re going to love this class, bug,” Dad said, his eyes lighting up. “We looked at the syllabus. You get to run your very own research project and then there’s a big presentation in front of a panel. Honestly, I can’t wait to see what topic you pick.”
“But Trina loves her art classes,” Beth said indignantly, her mouth full. “Why can’t she do that instead?”
I shot her a look. It was nice of her to come to my rescue, but it wouldn’t help anything. Dad was sold on Research Methods 101.
“Trina can do art during the summer break,” he replied with a shrug.
“That’s what you said about my gamer convention last summer, but then you made me go to that science camp.” She crossed her eyes and grimaced. “You’ll probably make her do Model UN or something just as lame.”
As much as I hated to admit it, Beth had a point. Our parents were constantly pushing new activities on us. The likelihood of me actually putting a brush to paint this summer was slim. Especially the summer before college.
“Actually, we noticed Northwestern is hosting an art camp this July that she might like,” Mom said, pushing her curls out of her face. I could hardly hear the rest of the words coming out of her mouth, my heart was pounding so loud. Did she really say art camp? Or had I officially lost it? “It’s important to have a well-rounded resume when applying to med school. We thought it might be a win-win for all of us.”
“That is, if she aces her Research Methods class,” Dad added with a gesture of his fork. “I don’t want this art to be a distraction. But your mother is right, it would definitely round out your resume. Think of it as a reward for all of your hard work these past four years. What do you say, bug?”
Okay, so maybe this deal wasn’t all bad. A collegiate art camp was just the thing I needed this summer to take my art to the next level. If I could somehow find a way to juggle both my class project and this Research Methods project, I’d be golden.
I would do it.
I had to do it.
Failure wasn’t an option for the Frye family.
“I’ll do it,” I said, gripping the edge of the table. Becoming one of the top students in my class hadn’t been easy, but I’d managed it with a ton of hard work over the years. Honors courses, college credits, the ACTs. I’d faced each of them head-on and I’d do the same with this one. After all, this time I had the ultimate motivator. “I’ll ace it, Mom. I promise.”
“Girls, we’re very proud of you stepping up this year,” Mom said, raising her water glass. “While most kids are out wasting their potential, you two are taking your futures seriously. We know you’re going to change the world someday.”
I shot her the biggest grin I could conjure, while Beth’s thin-lipped smile left a lot to be desired. Still, Dad raised his glass in response and they toasted us, oblivious to the churning stomach this conversation had left me with.
An extra class wasn’t the biggest commitment in the world. I could handle it. And the senior class gift would still turn out amazing, even if I had to put in all of the hours after school. It would be worth it.
Problem solved and no dragon slaying required. All it took was a little negotiating and this princess was free.
I guess Mason Finnick was going to have to get used to having me around after all.
Chapter Five
The impatient grunts coming from across the table hardly registered with me as I drummed my fingers on the keyboard of my laptop. I stared down at the computer screen, willing my brain to focus on the project in front of me, instead of the artwork calling my name just down the hallway.
The thought of a possible summer at art camp was the only thing keeping me from losing my sanity. If it wasn’t for that gleaming beacon of hope, they would have had to nail me to this chair. That would be the only way I’d have any hope of passing Research Methods 101.
Still, it was no use. I couldn’t focus. My eyes glazed over and the text in front of me blurred. At the same time, my foot began tapping uncontrollably and another low grunt sounded.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Mason pushed my laptop screen down and grimaced at me from the other side of the library table, his heavy brow wrinkling in annoyance. “All of your fidgeting is making me nervous and I can’t focus on this chapter until you chill out.”
I tried to smile apologetically at him, but my lips seemed to have been filled with cement. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little antsy.”
“We already established that.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You got somewhere better to be than a stuffy library that smells like old man soap?”
I covered my mouth, trapping in a giggle. Mason might have been a grump, but at least he had a sense of humor. With a glance over my shoulder at Mr. Anthony snoozing at his desk, I nodded my head. “It does kind of smell like old man soap in here, doesn’t it?”
“It’s the worst.” He tilted his head to one side. “But seriously, what’s bugging you?”
“It’s nothing really.” I frowned at the laptop, my desire to open it and get back to work just not manifesting. “Nothing important to my parents, anyway.”
“Sounds like it’s important to you.” He raised a single eyebrow, his gaze heavy on my face. “What? Did they ground you from spending your extra time volunteering with the needy?”