Fast forward in time>>

"What do you mean you didn't apply for colleges?!"

Dad shouted at me from across the room once we got home from my junior college's commencement ceremony. His face was red and expressive. Could his eyes actually pop out of his head? It looked like it could happen at any moment. I tried to calm him

"Dad, I just want time to figure out what I'm doing. I want to take a year off and pursue my art--"

He cut me off,

"NO! Summer, good schools won't like that you wasted a year--"

I argued,

"Is it a year wasted if I end up making it?!"

He turned his back on me, and before leaving toward his bedroom, he grumbled

"Art. Just like your grandfather."

He and Grandpa Ezekiel hadn't spoken in fourteen years, since my dog bite. I got to call him once a year on my birthday, but Dad wanted to keep us apart. I'd learned that he and his father had been extremely close at one point, but their bond had broken when Dad originally moved to California with my mom and her baby-bump (me).

...

The moon shone through my bedroom window as I brushed out my long red hair and applied a lightly shimmery eyeshadow. The UC Santa Barbara acceptance party for my friend Kelly started in less than an hour. As I applied makeup, I looked at my long, raised scars on my left arm. In the moonlight they appeared to glow, almost. I once had a guy tell me he thought my scratch marks were "epic", but most people just stared and kept their mouths shut.

I headed over to the party with a gift bag in hand for Kelly. The drive over calmed my nerves. My thoughts drifted between Dad's stubbornness and my own. Maybe we were equally matched.

Cars were lined up around the block, some parked illegally and in front of other peoples' driveways. I'd heard the music from a few streets down. I felt the party jitters and walked up to the house. Kelly was in the doorway, greeting partygoers, and already drunk. She laughed heartily and said

"A gift, for mwah?"

I nodded. She said, nudging me

"Well since you're 21 I hope it's alcohol!"

I laughed... but it wasn't. It was a small painting I bought of a self portrait we studied together in art history, of Jacques-Louis David. She'd get the inside joke

"I am so glad you could make it. Like, so glad."

I smiled

"Sure. I wouldn't have been able to make it through Professor Gots' art history class without you. All those late nights memorizing notecards..."

She grinned

"And talking about which painting had the hottest guy in it!"

I joked

"That too. And my answer is still the Neoclassical style self portrait of Jacques-Louis David. That guy was trying to give such a 'smolder' look."

She began looking disinterested

"Uh, which one? Like, no offense but I really didn't care about that class at all-- OH-EM-GEE! Brent, hi!"

She rushed past me to jump into the arms of some guy. Her boyfriend maybe? I walked deeper into the house. Aside from deafening pop music and and rotating colored disco-balls, the party seemed actually kind of lame. There were three people half-heartedly playing beer pong and two people sitting on the couch, bored and staring off in different directions.

I heard Kelly's voice once more

"Guys! Guys, look who Brent brought over!! Mr. Wiggles!"

A big spotted dog ran straight up to me. I shrieked, stumbling back and falling. The dog lunged for me, licking me all over. I sat up quickly, trying to get away

"Help! Help! I'm terrified of dogs! Someone get it away from me!"

Now the bored party goers seemed amused, standing in a circle around me laughing. One guy said

"Who's afraid of dogs?"

Everyone laughed at his comment. Tears burned in my eyes and I stood up and ran past them. The dog didn't follow me. I left the party, embarrassed over my fear. I'd been traumatized as a child. In theory they were so cute and nice and loving, but I was terrified of them in real life.

Pulling into the driveway, I noticed my family home's lights were on. Strange.

After searching in my purse, I found my keys and unlocked the door. My parents, bathrobe clad, were sitting inside at the dining room table with papers sprawled about. I asked

"Hey-- what's up?"

My mom answered,

"Honey, sit down. Unfortunately... there's been a death in the family."

I gasped,

"Oh no..."

And pulled out a chair. My mom scooted her chair closer to mine and wrapped her arms around me. After a few moments of heavy silence, I finally asked,

"What happened? And who...?"

Dad answered, sucking in a breath for support

"Four days ago, my father suffered a heart attack and passed away"

Thoughts of him and I painting in his studio flashed through my mind. The last four days, Dad had been in a horrible funk. It all made sense now. I placed my palm on top of his hand. He said, now looking more aggravated than depressed,

"And you know what my dear old dad's will said?"

I asked,

"What?"

He answered, shaking his head

"The art studio, the paintings, the cabin, the land, your grandpa left it all to you."

My jaw dropped.

Dad began speaking again,

"It's not as if you're going back to Vermont. Honey, we're gonna sell the property for you, and put the money in an account so that when you go back to college, you'll have the money."

I shrugged my shoulders and sighed,

"Grandpa Ezekiel would have wanted that... I guess."

It still didn't feel right.