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Please.”
    “Finnneee. But Mom and Dad are wondering what’s up. What should I tell them?”
    “I met with some friends from high school last night.”
    “And why did you come home crying?”
    “One of them said I’ve gotten fat?” I try.
    His mouth twists into a smile. “Like they’ll believe that.”
    He skips downstairs with an enviable amount of energy. I roll too far and fall off the bed in a tangle of blankets. Great. Even gravity’s being a jerk to me, too. Mom and Dad tactfully edge around the question of where I was last night, and when I refuse an extra pancake, Dad gently reminds me I’m not fat. I shoot Riley a glare and he laughs into his melon slice.
    Thanksgiving is a somber affair – Dad still puts up the traditional turkey made of pinecones as the table centerpiece and Mom still frets that he’ll ruin the cooking, but there aren’t as many jokes at the table. Riley’s girlfriend is sweetly polite, which is a step up from his girlfriend this summer. The next few days are a blur of leftover turkey sandwiches and football games I only half pay attention to. Mom spends a lot of time accepting casseroles from neighbors who heard about Grandpa. I go with Dad to the office once or twice - a warehouse off the highway where their soap company ships out from. The same packers and line managers and marketing people are there. They’ve known me since middle school. Betsy, Dad’s shipping manager with a platinum blonde beehive hairdo, grasps my hand.
    “Sweetie, how are you? You’re studying hard down there? Be sure to play every once in a while. Too much work does one of two things – makes you insufferable or makes you drink.”
    I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to form the right words. “Betsy? Can I ask you something in confidence?”
    “Why sure. Just get it right out in the open, honey.”
    “Is the company doing alright?”
    Betsy sighs. “You know, I wanna say yes. I really do. But with these new competitors we just haven’t been functioning on the level we used to.”
    “So, the company, is it -?”
    She leans in and whispers. “Don’t tell anyone. But your father and I are thinking about going into discussions with a Chinese company. They want to buy us out and frankly, that’s the best option we’ve got right now.”
    “So the company is closing, one way or another.”
    “Unless a good chunk of money falls out of the sky, hon, yeah.”
    Mom and Dad’s dream company – the one they built from scratch – is going into the toilet. I still remember when I was little and they’d make herb soaps in the bathroom, the sink filled with fresh rosemary and clean lard. I still remember how happy they were when they got their business license. I grew up helping them sell their soaps at craft fairs on the weekends. Betsy must notice how sad I look, because she pets my hand.
    “Don’t you worry about your parents. We’ve got everything under control. You just study hard and get that degree, you hear?”
    I worry. That’s all I do. I get so wound up sitting in my room, reading old books and messing around on the computer, that I feel like throwing up. Every smile of Mom’s and every laugh of Dad’s feels so rare and special – and if the bankruptcy happens, they’ll get even rarer. And I won’t be here to see it. I’ll be back at college where I can’t see their pain. I’m selfish. Asking Mom and Dad for the money that isn’t covered by my scholarship while they’re struggling to stay afloat is completely selfish. I’m not fixing the problem, I’m just making it worse.
    I need to get out. Jen’s band is playing today at the Blue Eclipse in L.A. It’s a pretty long drive, but I could use the time alone. I tell Dad and he smiles and hugs me.
    “You have fun, okay? You’re looking too serious lately. Don’t age so fast.”
    “Right back at you,” I joke. Riley begs to come with. I point out he’s underage.
    “So are you!” He argues.
    “It’s eighteen