I Was Told It Would Get Easier(57)

“So, this morning we’re going to talk about passions. What motivates you all? What makes you excited to think about the future?” She looked at Casper and smiled. “Apart from geology.”

“I like math, too,” he volunteered. “And fractals.”

“I like sports,” said a large kid who’d never spoken before. I mean, he’d probably spoken before, but not to us. See, I’ve been awake less than an hour and I’m already struggling.

“Any particular sport?” asked Cassidy.

He nodded. “Yeah, football. And baseball, hockey, basketball. And soccer.”

“Wow,” said Cassidy encouragingly. “And those are all sports you hope to pursue in college?”

The kid was confused. “Well, yes, of course.”

“Are you hoping for a scholarship? Which sport is your strongest?” She tipped her head slightly. “You look like a football player to me.”

The kid frowned at her. “No, I don’t play any of them. I watch them. And, you know, fantasy league.”

“Oh.”

“So, yeah, I can definitely see myself continuing that in college.”

“Right, of course.”

The kid grinned, happy to have contributed to the conversation, totally unaware he’d confused our fearless leader. But Cassidy rallied. “Anyone else have a sport they love?”

One kid liked tennis and was hoping for a scholarship.

Another kid said he was thinking of putting rowing on his application because his college counselor said colleges love rowers.

“But do you actually row?” asked Cassidy.

“No, of course not. Where would I row? The LA River?” (Sidenote: The LA River is badly named. The only thing that reliably runs between its banks are homeless people evading the police.)

Cassidy frowned. “So how can you put it on your application?”

“I was going to put it under ‘Interests.’ I am interested in it.”

She gazed at him, opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again.

Emily put her hand up, which nearly made me spill my coffee.

“This is a dumb subject,” she said. “I have no idea what I’m passionate about. When I was eight I was into Pokémon and My Little Pony. I loved that stuff. I collected the toys, I had millions of cards, it was a whole thing. Now there’s nothing that really blows my mind, and my ideal day would be grown-ups not asking me questions about my future.” She shrugged. “Can you be passionate about not being passionate?”

“There’s nothing you can see yourself doing in the future?” Cassidy had put on her serious, encouraging voice.

“Not in the way you all mean.” Emily was irritated, which didn’t bode well for the rest of my day. “Besides, I don’t see a lot of adults following their passion. Most of them work, sure, but they’re not super happy about it.” She turned to Casper’s mom. “Are you following your passion?”

Casper shook his head and spoke before his mom had a chance. “Bad choice, Em, she is literally living her dream life every day.”

His mom smiled. “I write code in my sleep then go to work and do it for real. Sorry.”

Emily turned to me. “You’re not happy at work. You’re not following a passion.”

I wondered if faking a stroke was an option, as there was nothing I wanted to do less than have this conversation again.

“I like my work,” I said. “I get to help people, it’s challenging.”

“But are you passionate?”

I shrugged. “I was passionate about things when I was your age, and working is easier when you love what you do, but even something you love contains hours and days of repetition and grind. It’s only on the internet that everything is easy.”

Emily looked at Cassidy. “See what I mean? Work is not life. Work is how you pay for food. You should ask us the kind of life we want to live instead.” She started counting on her fingers. “I want a job I can forget at the end of the day, where I don’t work weekends, where I make enough money to live on my own and have a garden. Wouldn’t it be better to start there? There must be hundreds of jobs like that. Work isn’t supposed to be your life . . . Your life is supposed to be your life.” She fell silent. Then she said, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m hungry.”

She got up and went to get breakfast. All the parents turned to me, and I shrugged. Teenagers, my shrug tried to say. What can you do? They’re vain and self-obsessed, but then they hit on the truth with a hammer so big all you can do is hope the reverberations don’t kill you.





EMILY


I made a total idiot of myself at breakfast. This trip was giving me a headache. I wished my mom and I were getting along better; I could have really used a hug.

Princeton is a dream, like something out of Harry Potter. There is no way I’m getting into Princeton, be real. I think a sadist put the tour itinerary together: It’s like pulling up to a homeless guy and handing him flyers for luxury open houses. Why not take us to colleges we might actually get into? I’ve never even seen inside a community college, which is much more my speed.

I was totally getting my period. I wanted to eat chocolate and roll myself in a blanket like a burrito.