laughed. “I’m sure there’s lots they could teach me, but…”
“But?” Mom leaned forward to catch his eye.
“Anna hasn’t told you.” He sat back and put down his fork. “I’m taking a break from art classes.”
Mom’s shocked expression I was sure mirrored exactly how Brad, Rachel, and I must’ve looked when he told us. “You… wait.” She shook her head. “If you’re taking a break from art… are you still enrolled at SCAD?”
“Oh, yes, I’m definitely still enrolled.” He seemed more comfortable talking about it now than he had in September. It was probably having a semester behind him, and from what I’d gathered, a pretty successful one. “The first week of classes, I looked at all the different options, and well, I just decided to expand my realm of possibilities.”
He gave me a wink, and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Mom’s eyes moved from him to me and then back. “What does that mean?”
“He’s taking architecture classes now, Mom. Julian’s thinking about working with…” Crap! I’d almost said working with his dad , which my parents still didn’t know about. “With Mr. Kyser. Remember how encouraging he always was to Julian?”
I didn’t think it was possible for Mom’s eyebrows to go any higher, but they did. “You’re working with Bill Kyser? In development?”
Julian shifted in his chair. “I just asked if he might be willing to let me intern in his office over the break. We haven’t really committed to anything, but I think he’s open to the idea.”
“Julian, that’s amazing!” Mom’s shock morphed into excited pride. “Working with Bill Kyser, why… that could open doors that I can’t even imagine!”
Dad clapped Julian’s shoulder before he sat down. “What does it feel like to live a charmed life?”
He looked down. “Exhausting. And really stressful.”
“The flip-side of being given amazing opportunities is getting to live up to them, yes?” Mom’s voice was warm and soothing.
“Anna-Banana’s getting a little taste of that as well, yeah?” Dad was cutting his turkey, and I just rolled my eyes. “Here we go again!”
Nana was with us at last, giving me an encouraging look. “It’s time to go around and say what we’re all thankful for.”
We covered the usual bases, being with family, being healthy, having good food and good friends. Then Mom launched into a discussion of funding for art education in schools, and Nan followed up with the issues of conservation and working with turtle habitats. It was each of their favorite “causes,” and I’d been routinely recruited to help with both through the years.
My favorite had been the spring break I’d spent with Nana in Navarre helping with “Share the Beach” when I was only a sophomore.
Baby turtles hatch from their eggs in the early morning light, and they’re all alone, left to race into the ocean to survive. The only problem is all the seagulls, pelicans, and other birds hanging out, waiting to gobble them up as soon as their tiny dark brown bodies appear on the sugar-white sands from South County through the panhandle of Florida.
“Share the Beach” volunteers all lined the small ditch we’d dug from the nest to the Gulf. All they had to do was scamper to survival, and all we had to do was not touch them or interfere any more than we’d already done.
“Hey,” Julian’s voice was low and soft by my ear, pulling me back from the memory. “You ready to jet?”
I blinked up at his crystal blue eyes—almost the same color as those waters we all loved—then I glanced around the table. Nana, Mom, and Dad were splitting a bottle of wine, and they seemed to be pretty embroiled in some new political discussion.
“Julian and I were going to walk down by the surf,” I interjected.
They all took a breath and looked up at us. Dad was the first one to speak.
“I think that’s a great idea! We should all go.” He rose and dropped his
“But?” Mom leaned forward to catch his eye.
“Anna hasn’t told you.” He sat back and put down his fork. “I’m taking a break from art classes.”
Mom’s shocked expression I was sure mirrored exactly how Brad, Rachel, and I must’ve looked when he told us. “You… wait.” She shook her head. “If you’re taking a break from art… are you still enrolled at SCAD?”
“Oh, yes, I’m definitely still enrolled.” He seemed more comfortable talking about it now than he had in September. It was probably having a semester behind him, and from what I’d gathered, a pretty successful one. “The first week of classes, I looked at all the different options, and well, I just decided to expand my realm of possibilities.”
He gave me a wink, and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Mom’s eyes moved from him to me and then back. “What does that mean?”
“He’s taking architecture classes now, Mom. Julian’s thinking about working with…” Crap! I’d almost said working with his dad , which my parents still didn’t know about. “With Mr. Kyser. Remember how encouraging he always was to Julian?”
I didn’t think it was possible for Mom’s eyebrows to go any higher, but they did. “You’re working with Bill Kyser? In development?”
Julian shifted in his chair. “I just asked if he might be willing to let me intern in his office over the break. We haven’t really committed to anything, but I think he’s open to the idea.”
“Julian, that’s amazing!” Mom’s shock morphed into excited pride. “Working with Bill Kyser, why… that could open doors that I can’t even imagine!”
Dad clapped Julian’s shoulder before he sat down. “What does it feel like to live a charmed life?”
He looked down. “Exhausting. And really stressful.”
“The flip-side of being given amazing opportunities is getting to live up to them, yes?” Mom’s voice was warm and soothing.
“Anna-Banana’s getting a little taste of that as well, yeah?” Dad was cutting his turkey, and I just rolled my eyes. “Here we go again!”
Nana was with us at last, giving me an encouraging look. “It’s time to go around and say what we’re all thankful for.”
We covered the usual bases, being with family, being healthy, having good food and good friends. Then Mom launched into a discussion of funding for art education in schools, and Nan followed up with the issues of conservation and working with turtle habitats. It was each of their favorite “causes,” and I’d been routinely recruited to help with both through the years.
My favorite had been the spring break I’d spent with Nana in Navarre helping with “Share the Beach” when I was only a sophomore.
Baby turtles hatch from their eggs in the early morning light, and they’re all alone, left to race into the ocean to survive. The only problem is all the seagulls, pelicans, and other birds hanging out, waiting to gobble them up as soon as their tiny dark brown bodies appear on the sugar-white sands from South County through the panhandle of Florida.
“Share the Beach” volunteers all lined the small ditch we’d dug from the nest to the Gulf. All they had to do was scamper to survival, and all we had to do was not touch them or interfere any more than we’d already done.
“Hey,” Julian’s voice was low and soft by my ear, pulling me back from the memory. “You ready to jet?”
I blinked up at his crystal blue eyes—almost the same color as those waters we all loved—then I glanced around the table. Nana, Mom, and Dad were splitting a bottle of wine, and they seemed to be pretty embroiled in some new political discussion.
“Julian and I were going to walk down by the surf,” I interjected.
They all took a breath and looked up at us. Dad was the first one to speak.
“I think that’s a great idea! We should all go.” He rose and dropped his
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