The sun was setting and they walked quietly for a while, Gab pushing her bike alongside her. Mr. C. lived closer into the centre of town, while Gab lived another three kilometres out. She would walk him home. Gab was strangely glad for this simultaneously terrifying and happy moment that she didn’t understand. She knew what she had to tell her teacher.

“So,” said Mr. C. “I saw your results this morning. Straight into agriculture. Well done! I’m proud of you!” Gab’s heart squeezed with strange warmth because no one had ever said that straight out to her before. But then the blood drained to her feet. It was a horrifying tension that she hid perfectly. She had to tell him.

“Thanks, Mr. C,” she said tightly. “That’s really nice.” She felt numb.

“Agriculture, data science, psychology…” he continued, “Easily in. The world is your oyster.” He paused. “Don’t know where that one comes from. Weird saying, isn’t it!”

“Shakespeare,” Gab said. “It was first recorded in Shakespeare.”

“Well, there you go!” said Mr. C.

He never seemed to mind when Gab taught him something, and Gab liked that. But then she remembered again what she had to tell him.

“Mr. C … I …” Gab sighed. She stopped and turned to face him. “Thanks for believing in me, Mr C. It means everything. But I’m not going.” Then she quickly kept walking.

He paused for a moment, and then caught up with her. But she’d already made up her mind. It didn’t even feel like there had been a decision to be made. It was a narrow trajectory; she was on it, and there was no swerving to the right or the left, no alternative path for diversion.

He was quiet. He nodded slowly. He didn’t ask her why, but she answered anyway.

“I’m needed here.”

Again, he nodded.

“I’ll keep working. I’ve already increased my hours.”

He was quiet. Gab’s anger rose.

“What choice do I have?” she cried. “Mum needs me. Jack needs me. I can’t desert them. I hate that I don’t want to let you down. I hate that I want to live up to your hopes for me! Why do you even care?”

“Gab…” James sighed. This somehow made Gab angrier.

“You don’t understand, Mr. C! Why are you doing this?” Gab started to cry and could have died from shame. Also, she knew he didn’t deserve it and she had no idea where it was coming from … quiet, sensible, measured Gab. The façade was gone.

“I’m sorry, Gabby,” he whispered. “I’m really sorry. You need to do what’s best, and it’s your decision—no one else’s.”

“Anyway,” Gab sniffed, wiping her eyes violently with her sleeve, “I’m not declining, just deferring. I can always go next year.” She felt like she was lying, because she didn’t see how it was possible.

“Melbourne’s a fair way away, isn’t it?” Mr. C. observed.

“I know,” said Gab. “And I hate going away from home. But,” she mused, “I don’t really like being there either. So I guess I’m trapped.” They were nearing Mr. Cheng’s front gate.

“Have you thought about online study?” he asked. “I know we’re a decent hike from any uni, but there are loads of distance ed. options. UNE for example. They offer an online Bachelor of Agriculture.” He knew. He’d checked. He couldn’t bear the thought of her wasting away in that granny flat for years to come.

Gab shook her head. “It’s not the right time, Mr. C. My head’s not in the right space.”

“Oh well,” he swallowed and smiled. “You’ll make the best of it, Gab. You always do.”

“Maybe,” she replied, feeling sceptical.

“I know you will. Just keep reading. Keep learning. Don’t let it crush you.”

“I won’t,” Gab said. But she suddenly felt powerless. “You should probably just forget about me,” she said, turning away and hopping on her bike. She rode a couple of metres, not looking back, leaving Mr. Cheng at his front gate. Then she felt bad and turned to look at him. He was standing where she’d left him. Gab rolled her eyes, because she knew she couldn’t just keep going with things like this. Swallowing her absurd embarrassment, she rolled back.

“I’m sorry. I just …”

“It’s okay, Gab,” he assured her. “You don’t have to explain.” He paused and changed tack entirely. “So, what’s on the menu for dinner tonight?”

Just like that, the whole outburst may as well not have happened; it was swallowed up in the past. It was good that way; Gab wouldn’t have known what else to say.

“Spag bol, I think.” Mundane discussion was a relief.

“Sounds great,” he said. “Thanks for the walk, Gab.” He smiled, as if her embarrassing explosion had never happened; as if her choice to defer her studies and spend her nineteenth year working in the supermarket hadn’t hit him like a punch in the guts too.