Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

stay focused on my goal. I can’t let USC out of my sights for even a
second. No matter what Mom, Damian, Griffin, or anybody else on
this stupid island thinks or does, I have to get that B average, stay
on the cross-country team, and count down the days until I go back
to California.
I don’t want to be away from Cesca and Nola any longer than
absolutely necessary. I’ve only been gone a few weeks and look what
a mess my life has become.
No, from now on I’m single-focus-Phoebe.
Nothing can deter me.
“Mom, I’ve made my decision,” I say when I find her in Damian’s office,
scanning wedding websites. “I’m going to USC and that’s final.”
She turns away from the computer, a surprisingly neutral look
on her face. I expect her to yell and scream and ground me until I’m
twenty-five. Instead, she smiles and says, “If you’ve considered this
carefully as I asked, then I support your decision.”
Wow. Where did that trust in my decision-making abilities come
from? What happened to nothing but dictates and unilateral decisions?
I’m not going to question my good fortune.
Who knows when the rug will be pulled out from under me.
“Yes, I have,” I explain. “I don’t fit in here and I am only making
things difficult and uncomfortable for myself and everyone else.”
She steeples her hands over Damian’s desk. Uh-oh, therapist
mode.
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