The Summer I Went Wild Chapter 1 Part 3
The Summer I Went Wild
Chapter One
Part Three
“Nope,” I lied, the burn of it catching in my throat.
It would be the last time. After dinner, I’d tell her everything.
“Did you send the email?”
“Yeah.”
“And still no response?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong with them? Maybe we should ask your sister to check your status. See what’s delaying it.”
“Yeah.”
After that, we ate in silence. Mom didn’t say anything about the dinner I’d made. Not whether she loved it or hated it.
“This food is the sweetest, blandest thing I’ve ever eaten,” Dad said, closing his eyes like he was savoring the bite.
“Is that a compliment or a criticism?” I rolled my eyes.
“A constructive criticism filled with love,” he said. “How’d you even learn to make this?”
“YouTube and a bunch of cookbooks, duh.”
“You should practice more, Char. Edited videos won’t teach you the art of it.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Mom cut in. “Your focus should be on your studies and getting accepted at Harvard. Not cooking.”
That was it. I wasn’t getting a reaction from her. My chest pinched, even though I knew I had no right to feel angry.
If Jessica had made this, things would’ve been different. Mom would’ve smiled— one of those bright smiles that showed her perfect teeth.
But I wasn’t Jessica.
And it hurt.
Indifference—that was the worst reaction anyone could give.
I ate faster, my tiny act of rebellion.
Dad filled the silence, talking about work and random things. Even how he danced in the rain like those old 2000s Bollywood movies.
That was Dad. Free-spirited to his core. Mom had tried to change him once. She gave up.
“Eat slower,” he said gently, pressing a hand to my back.
“It’s fine.” I smiled, but he saw through me.
“I love you. Never forget that,” he whispered.
“I love you too.”
“And I love both of you.”
Mom’s words stunned me. I turned to her, heart skipping. She meant it.
She rarely said things like that. Hearing it now meant something.
She liked the dinner.
There was hope.
“I love you so much more, Mom.”
“More than you love me?” Dad teased.
“Nope. Not falling for that.”
The mood lifted. I talked more when I was happy.
Before I knew it, it was 8 PM.
Mom stood first, giving me that look. A reminder.
Once they were upstairs, I washed the dishes and headed to my room.
I grabbed a notebook. I needed the right words.
Before I could write anything, Mom’s voice cut through the air.
“Charlotte Juliet Brown, come to my room this instant.”
I froze.
She was holding my iPad. The rejection email glowed on the screen.
“I was planning to tell you,” I said quickly.
Dad read it quietly. “Oh honey, you should have told us the truth.”
“I was scared.”
“I should be used to you by now,” Mom said calmly. “So it’s fine.”
She walked away.
That quiet disappointment hurt more than anger ever could.
“She’ll come around,” Dad said.
“Yeah.”
But the hope I had was gone.
It was Harvard or nothing. Not for me—but for her.
So yeah, I’d wait it out.