I was going to be a nerdy eighth-grade science teacher.” He frowns. “What changed?” I stare down at the juice box, spinning the straw. “It’s a long story.” “I’ve got time.” Sighing, I give him a look, but his eyes are shut, and if he senses me staring at him, he doesn’t let on. “It was a lot of things. Partly my personality—I’m very competitive with myself and achievement oriented. Partly my family life.” “Your family life?” “My parents’ marriage was rocky. Lots of tension and hissed arguments in the kitchen when they thought I was studying or watching TV or up in bed. One night, I came down
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