If you want to read the story from the beginning click here.(https://wp.me/p2b25R-fw)

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I am not looking forward to meeting Ms. Kasie, our career counselor. She guides seniors in evaluating their background, achievements, and possible future direction. I had talked with Dan, and he wasn’t that impressed with his meeting with her. Dan didn’t think she paid as much attention as you would like to understand what you are interested in. I am also worried about Dad. What if Dad does not agree with Ms. Kasie’s assessment?

Ms. Kasie had a small windowless office in the basement next to the gym. I spent less than twenty minutes with her. We reviewed my grades, extracurricular activities, and my career interests. She was impressed with my involvement in sports and admired the article about the shooter that I had written for the Pulse.

“Let me tell you something. You can be excellent at sports or music in high school. But it’s tough to make your name in those. There will be tremendous competition and no guarantee of success. Less than 1% of high school athletes get picked by professional scouts. Besides, if you are a minority, it gets doubly tough to crack the ceiling. You have to be super good. I don’t want to sound racist, but it’s the reality.”

I don’t like what she is saying. I want to say she is generalizing, but maybe she is just being honest. I am in the twelfth grade, still playing varsity baseball, and haven’t heard from a scout yet. Ms. Kasie keeps quiet for a while as if to judge my reaction.

“I have your grades here. You have a strong B+ average. You have taken enough AP classes. Your extracurricular activities are impressive. So, we are good there.” She flips the pages in the folders she has in front of her.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Looking at your grades, background, and extracurricular activities, I see you have a strong liberal arts background. We have a great liberal arts college in Williamsburg, the College of William and Mary. It’s known as the public Ivy League college. Then we have the University of Virginia, Virginia Tech, and James Madison. Any one of them could be your first choice. I must warn you that the competition will be tough, but I’m sure you will have a good chance to make it.”

I already knew about these colleges and had reviewed their catalogs.

“Thanks, Ms. Kasie. I will.”

“Good luck. If you have any questions or need help with the applications, don’t hesitate to come by.”

As I leave Ms. Kasie’s office, I am not clear about what I am supposed to do. She seemed to say I shouldn’t go for a sports career, that I was only suited to a liberal arts education. Oh, my God. Dad’s going to have a fit over this. I want to avoid going home.

As it is already after three o’clock, I take the school bus home. I’m not in the mood to participate in any after-school activities.

I enter through the garage, using the keypad to open the door. I see Mom is resting on the L-shaped sofa in the living room.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, trying not to show my concern over the meeting with Ms. Kasie.

I sit on the other corner of the sofa facing her. A copy of the Pulse is on the coffee table. I don’t remember leaving it there. I had it in my room.

“Are you hungry? Should I make you something?” Mom asks as she dog-ears a page from the Metropolitan Home magazine she is reading and places it on the table.

“I’m good.”

“You sure? There are chocolate brownies on the kitchen counter. You can have them with milk. Then I’m making pasta for dinner. ”

“Sounds good. But I’m fine.”

I start upstairs, but I want to know who brought the Pulse downstairs.

“Did you read our school paper, Mom?” I ask. I want to know why she brought it downstairs, and that too after almost a year.

“Yes. And I am very proud of you, Arjun. That article you wrote on the shooter is very moving.”

I am surprised by her comment.

“Thanks. I thought you might not like it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. You and Dad seemed very disturbed that night.”

“Well, you said what was on your mind. Nobody can argue with that.”

I liked what mom said, but wasn’t sure about dad.

“I’ll go to my room and rest a bit,” I say and start climbing the stairs.

I don’t realize I’ve dozed off until I look at the clock. It shows at half-past five. I was going to take a short nap and then start working on my homework. I hear voices downstairs. It sounds like Lakshmi is back from college, and Dad, too. Lakshmi is attending George Mason University, where my dad works. I splash water on my face, wipe it, and comb my hair before heading downstairs.

“Arjun, Beta,” Dad says. “How did it go?”

“How did what go, Dad?” I ask.

“Didn’t you have an appointment with your counselor today?”

Dad never forgets.

“Yes. I had it earlier today.”

“Well, how was it. I bet she recommended you go for an Engineering degree.”

“It didn’t go that way, Dad,” I say. “Besides, I’m not sure I want to be an Engineer.”

“Don’t say that.” His voice is loud, tight with emotion. “What did she say?”

“Ms. Kasie says I am good at liberal arts, and I should select that track.”

“Are you kidding? Liberal arts? What would you do with liberal arts?”

“I don’t know. Become a writer or a teacher, I guess.”

“A writer?” Dad moves closer to me and continues, “Do you have any idea what a writer makes? Most of them live below or at the poverty line. The same with teachers.”

“But they probably like what they do and are happy about it.”

“No, No, No. Can you imagine what our friends and relatives will say? Arjun is a poor teacher, while his brother is a doctor. The poor fellow has to live with his parents. He can’t afford to live on his own.”

Mom is listening to our conversation from the kitchen. She doesn’t say anything for a while, then–“That’s enough, Daddy. He’s just had his meeting. Let him think about it a bit.”

“What’s there to think about? I am telling him. Engineering will be a good career for him. He can have a good job, a decent salary, and prestige in our community.”

“Is that what you are after, Dad?” I am fed up with his one-track mind. “Your prestige in the community? What about the quality of my life? What if I’m miserable as an engineer? Who can tell I’ll be a successful engineer?”

“Arjun,” Mom says, turning to me. “Please listen to your dad. He has a point.”

“Besides,” Dad continues. “If you are one of those lowly professionals, it would be so hard for us to face our friends. Look at Raj’s daughter Ruchi. She may be going to Harvard.”

“You won’t have to worry about that. I guarantee.” I say this in a fit of rage, get up, and race toward the stairs to my room.

“You should have waited until we had our dinner.” I hear mom saying.

I didn’t like Dad saying he didn’t want me to be a poor kid dependent on him and staying in his house as an adult. I am a high school kid, but not a stupid one. Why did he say that? I shut the door of my room with a bang and throw myself on my bed, face down.

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To read chapter 14 click here. https://wp.me/p2b25R-h0