CH. 27

"I can't believe how tan you are!" Willa exclaimed, enveloping her parents in a hug.

Laughing, Lila Grainger brushed a curly wisp of graying brown hair away from her face, returning her daughter's embrace. "I haven't been this tan since that disastrous spray tan your Aunt Bev insisted all we bridesmaids do the week before her wedding."

In unison, her husband and daughter groaned, remembering the hot July wedding. Held outdoors at a botanical garden, the wedding had started off beautiful and romantic. It had ended with the groom saying, "I do, even though you're orange." All the guests had started suppressing their horrified giggles when they noticed the orange stains on Aunt Beverly's collar dripping steadily down her dress. The bride had burst into tears and the groom comforted her through his own laughter, winding up kissing her just to stop the downpour - even though the minister hadn't technically told him to kiss the bride yet.

"You guys were gone for so long," Willa half-heartedly complained as she followed her parents into the living room. "I bet you're glad to be home."

A statuesque Colonial-style home, it boasted a large, open floor plan with plenty of windows. The main door opened to a large foyer, which branched off in three directions. To the left was the guest bedroom and laundry room, with a door leading to the garage. If you went right, you entered the kitchen and dining room. If you went straight, you'd be heading straight for the living room.

A large staircase on the left side of the living room wall led upstairs to the family bedrooms, the lounge, and her parent's shared home office. On either side of the staircase were built-in bookshelves lined neatly with books of matching height and uncracked spines. An entire row was devoted to travel books and Willa immediately noticed a few new guidebooks crammed onto the end of the shelf.

The walls were a mustard yellow and the furniture was in neutral shades of white and beige. Instead of the usual matching mustard pillows, however, Willa saw brightly colored cushion covers with elephants, birds, and flowers intricately embroidered. Small pieces of mirror was woven into the fabric to create the center of each flower and she caught her reflection a dozen tiny times. "These are beautiful," she said, sinking onto a loveseat.

"Mmmm," her mother hummed. "I bought some for you, if you'd like."

"Definitely," Willa said, tracing her finger over an elephant's trunk.

Her mother reached forward and slightly tilted a book on the coffee table to a microscopic degree, then leaned back on the couch next to Willa with a self-satisfied smile on her face. "Would Maryam like one, too?"

"Um, she goes back to India pretty often. I think she has some already."

"What about Cyn?" Her mother's brow furrowed.

"Maryam can get one for her if she wants. Where's Dad?" Willa tried to redirect.

"He's getting refreshments," Lila said dismissively, leaning towards Willa with a steely gaze. "Is something going on between you and your friends?"

"No."

"That doesn't sound very convincing, darling. What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Seriously." Willa shook her head vigorously. "I'm just not really friends with them, anymore."

"I've got ladoos and samosas!" Forrest Grainger sang out as he entered the living room with a wooden tray in his hands.

"Shhh!" Lila hissed, much to the bewilderment of her husband.

He exchanged glances with Willa before sitting down. "Willa, try these," he enthused, giving a square white plate to Willa with a round yellow dessert on it.

"What do you mean you're not friends with them?" Lila asked, looking perturbed.

"Not friends with who?"

"Willa's no longer friends with Maryam and Cyn, dear," Lila answered her husband, still staring intently at Willa.

"She's not ten anymore, Lila," Forrest said gently, serving his wife a chubby triangular samosa.

Willa picked at the ladoo, pinching it between her fingers and bringing the tiny bite of sugary flour to her lips. "I just didn't fit with them, anymore."

"That sounds like an excuse," Lila said severely. "Friendship needs to be worked at, not given up on."

"Willa, why don't you tell us what happened?" her father suggested, taking a bite of his samosa. A small piece of potato and a pea fell from the fried savory.

Willa leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. She couldn't say this while looking at them. "It's like...we've been friends for so long, you know? I didn't want to rock the boat. Our roots were all too tangled together."

"Roots?" her mother interrupted.

"Lila," Forrest chastised.

"We all bonded in college. Well, I say we, but I really mean me and Maryam. And then there's her and Cyn." Willa's throat tightened. "We became friends pretty much by default. Because we had Maryam in common. But it always felt like I was the one on the outside, like I was the one fighting to stay on the inside. And it felt so much like it was always me who was the one who had to be the bigger person, because I knew better?"

A tear leaked out from her right eye and dripped towards her ear. "No one realizes what it costs the person who has to keep their mouth shut." The words came out bitterly, but the effect was ruined by the gasping noise of imminent crying.

"Oh, Willa." Her mother was at her side in a second, wrapping her arm tight around her. Her father carefully took the plate from Willa's hands and put it down on the coffee table. Her parents were opposites in so many ways, but for Willa they moved in unison, like a well-oiled machine.

Willa kept her eyes closed, clenching her teeth to keep from crying. She had been doing too much of that lately; by now she figured she would have run out of grief, but as it turned out, grief wasn't finite. It was an ever-growing well that surprised her when she least expected it, overflowing out of her in the most pathetic, blubbering of ways.

"You can't just give up on them," her mother whispered, resting her head against Willa's.

"They already gave up on me," Willa whispered back.

"Do you want them back?" Forrest asked quietly.

Willa gave a jerky shrug.

"What do you need to do to make it happen?" Lila gave Willa's shoulder another squeeze.

"Everything that I don't want to do," Willa admitted.

"There's nothing that can't be mended with an apology," her mother said. "You could start there."

Her mother's words made sense, but Willa didn't think her parents grasped the situation fully. Willa had taken a stand for once and if she apologized now it would mean that everything else she had said had meant nothing. It would set a bad precedent, like Willa had been wrong and now she knew it.

"I wouldn't mean it even if I did apologize," Willa said, opening her eyes.

"Is it about the book?" her father asked.

Willa nodded.

"Were they happy for you?" her father pressed.

"They were mad. They thought that I used Cyn as my inspiration. I sort of did, but not to the extent that they think."

Her parents exchanged glances. Her mother's was troubled while her father's was thoughtful.

"I always wondered how people stayed friends for so long," Willa continued. "I thought it was because they just worked at it instead of throwing each other away. That's why I was okay with the status quo with me and Cyn and Maryam. Because I thought that was me working at it. But it's not. Those people who stay friends? It's because they grow. They change. They're not status quo. And even if they grow apart, they come back together because their roots are with each other. But it's not that way with us. I don't know if it ever has been. We're not growing. We're just getting more tangled into each other. Our roots are choking the life out of me."

Her mother's hand had moved to her mouth and she looked like she was about to cry too. Willa gave her a strong smile. "It's okay, Mom."

"I didn't realize that you...that you felt..." Lila looked away, swiping at her eyes discreetly.

"Dad, what is it called when you snip off the heads of the mums in the yard?" Willa asked.

"Deadheading." Forrest's eyes widened, realizing what Willa was getting at. "You have to prune them to promote further blooming."

"Speaking of, Jackie called me. Why don't I tell you guys about the contract she's sending over for me to sign?" Willa suggested, deftly changing the subject.

"Sign nothing until I have my lawyer look over it," her mother instructed, back to her normal, no-nonsense self.

"I won't," Willa promised.

Her father's face was troubled. He still looked thoughtful, looking at Willa with an unreadable expression. It was like he wanted to say something but was unsure of how to phrase it without offending her.

"Dad?" Willa looked at him and he looked back at her, indecision warring in his gaze.

"Willa...are you sure you want to do this?" He seemed to pick his words delicately. "Not because of Maryam. Not because of Cyn. But will this book make you happy?"

"Every writer wants to be a published author," Willa replied, confused.

"But are you doing it because you want this to be your first book published or because you've drawn the battle lines and you want to win the war?"

"Forrest!" Her mother's eyes were narrowed and her lips pinched tightly together. "She's got an amazing opportunity to do what other writers can only dream of."

"I'm not talking her out of it, Lila," Forrest defended. "But firsts are important. She'll never have another first book again. I just want to make sure that she knows what she'll gain and what she'll give up." He looked at Willa with a touch of sadness.

"I won't be losing anything that I'm not willing to lose," Willa said. The words were confident but inside she was wondering, was her father right?

Author's Note: Happy Friday, readers! I hope the newest chapter of Willa and the Extraordinary Internship brightens your weekend :) And as always, I'd love to know what you think!

Should Willa rethink her recent decisions? Is her dad right? What could her friends do to improve the relationship? And is it even worth salvaging?

If you liked the chapter, please vote/comment. You don't know what it means to writers to know you enjoyed reading their work. <3