Part 3 (1/2)

Which explains why we deserted the Golden State in favor of the Silver State some eighteen months ago. Dad keeps pouncing on the distressed properties that pop up regularly.

Plus, cost of living is lower here, and that includes my tuition at Zephyr Academy, the finest college prep school in northern Nevada. I don't miss California too much, except for seeing Gramps and Grandma Grace. That, and the street dance scene.

Dad Might Be Sympathetic To my missing my grandparents, but dance is not even a small blip on his radar. I mean, it would not jibe with his plans for my future.

It's an ongoing rant.

Mom, who's generally more focused on where to nip and how to tuck her patients, only brings it up once in a while. Dad is more pragmatic, and broaches the subject regularly, especially

with graduation in

plain sight. Did you decide about school?

I've had positive responses from two California colleges.

Either would be okay, I guess. ”Not yet.”

Stop procrastinating. Where do you see

yourself next year? Because

it won't be here. Time for a viable plan.

Dorm or a homeless shelter? Nice choice.

Thanks, Dad. My plan is art school, a frivolous career in graphic design. I'm still waiting to hear back from my top choice-the San Francisco Art Inst.i.tute. But when I told Dad that, he freaked. Apparently, ”art”

plus ”San Francisco” can

only mean one thing. You're not serious!

He actually yelled, all his well-cultivated

self-control out the

window. What are you? A h.o.m.os.e.xual?

It might have been funny, except for the way he looked at me- like hinging on my answer was worthiness of the Kane surname. I shook my head, agreed to rethink my future, wis.h.i.+ng I could confess that my real dream isn't art. It's dance. My parents have no idea.

No one does, except my instructor, who gives me private lessons.

Ballet. Modern. Some ballroom. But I love jazz most of all, and Liana says I've got real talent. I don't know about that, but I do know that dance lifts me above the mundane.

Grounds me with the certainty that I am good at something. Connects me to the place inside where I find pa.s.sion.

Meaning beyond possessions. Pride, divorced from my last name. But how can I confess that to my father?