Mom opens her laptop and pulls up her spreadsheet on colleges. “I’m rating U Conn’s offer a five out of ten, but I’m giving that assistant coach a nine. She was a sharp lady. Very impressive. Now, let’s see … the campus. How would you rate that?”

I play with the food tray fastener on the seatback in front of me. “It was nice.”

“Nice. Is that a seven? An eight? I need a number.”

Mom, Dad, and I are sitting on the tarmac waiting to go home from our weekend visit to U Conn. Mom has the window seat, Dad is on the aisle answering emails, and I’m stuck in the middle trying to work up the nerve to spill what I’ve wanted to tell them for months. Maybe I’ll wait until we take off. Mom wouldn’t dare create a scene thirty thousand feet in the air on a packed flight, would she? People get arrested for that kind of thing. On the other hand, maybe that’s not such a great plan.

“Mark, what do you think?”

“I think I’m going to fire Paul when I get back to the office. He let a major deal slip through our fingers. I can’t go away for two days without everything falling apart.”

“Oh, put away your phone.” Mom swats at him across my lap. “I want to record this while it’s fresh in our minds. What did you think of the campus?”

I reach over and shut her laptop. “I have something I need to tell you.”

Mom’s eyes widen as she looks from me to her computer and back again. “What on earth?”

“It’s about college, and basketball, and … options.”

“Yes, options.” Mom points to her laptop. “That’s precisely why I put together this spreadsheet. So we can assess your options and figure out which one is best.”

I nod slowly. “We’re on the same page … kind of. Except, I’m not sure any of those are best.”

“What do you mean?” Mom clasps the armrest between us. “Is there another offer you haven’t told us about? Is it Syracuse? Oh, Mark, wouldn’t that be something? Your alma mater.”

“No, no. It’s not Syracuse. It’s not another offer.”

“Then what?”

I take a deep breath and answer slowly, carefully. “What if we expanded our vision a bit? Looked at all the possible options. Including … not playing basketball.”

“What?” Dad’s shout draws stares from the couple across the aisle.

“Oh, good lord. Are you pregnant?”

“What? No. Mom. What?”

“Bev.”

“Why else would she quit basketball?”

“It’s a phase. Trust me. I went through it myself in high school. Thought maybe I’d like to take a year off before college. She’ll get over it.”

I wave my hand between their faces. “Hello? I’m right here.”

“She’d better, and soon. These schools aren’t going to wait forever on her decision.”

“I’m right here! And it’s not a phase. It’s a serious proposition. I’m not saying I won’t play ball. I’m saying I want to at least consider what my future might look like if I didn’t.”

“Well.” My mom huffs and shakes her head. “I don’t understand it. Has that Gerald boy been putting ideas in your head?”

“It’s Jerod. And he has nothing to do with this.”

“Then where is it coming from? Not play basketball? You love basketball.”

I rest my head against my seat back. “I do. It’s just … I don’t know if I want the next five years of my life to revolve around it. Maybe there are bigger and better things out there for me.”

Even as I say it, doubt creeps in. What things? Certainly not Boyfriend Whisperer Enterprises.

“Honey, do yourself a favor. Sign with one of these schools.” My dad rubs his knee. “A lot of high school athletes go through this, but it’ll pass, and you’ll be glad you did the smart thing.”

I clench my teeth. He’s a cliché. Maybe I’m a cliché, too. The Spoiled High School Star Who Can’t Commit. “Can’t we at least entertain the idea that I might have other aspirations in life?”

“Such as?” Mom asks. “What are these future plans? They must be quite grand since they apparently leave no room for the one thing you’ve spent your whole life training for.”

“That’s just it!” I point at her. Finally, someone has put into words what’s been bothering me.

“What’s it?”

“I’ve been training all my life for one thing. And I appreciate it. I do. I know both of you have sacrificed a lot so I could play. But maybe I want to try some other things. Who knows? Maybe I’d be good at acting or vlogging or, say … running a business. How will I know if I have to spend all my time on the court?

“You’re exaggerating.” Mom purses her lips. “You heard Coach Morris. You’ll have your classes and your homework and …” Her voice trails off.

“Right. And that’s about it. There’s no time for anything else.”

“You know, when I was in college, I spent all my spare time waitressing so I could afford to be there. You wouldn’t have to work at all. Yet you want to turn your nose up at a scholarship?”

I close my eyes. Part of me wants to give in and say they’re right and tell them I’d rate the stupid campus a seven. It would be so much easier. But I can’t. I can’t let them control my fate. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s my life, my future. If it includes basketball, it will be because I’ve decided I want to play, not because other people expect me to.”

Mom blinks hard. “Young lady, you’d better—”

The flight attendant appears in the aisle directly in front of our row and starts demonstrating how to fasten our seat belts and put on our oxygen masks. We sit in silence as she pantomimes to a recording of the instructions, but I can feel my mother steaming beside me.

Finally, as she finishes, Dad clears his throat. “You need to give this some serious thought, Lexi. You’ve worked hard to get to this point. Don’t throw it away for no good reason.”

I grab his hand. “I will. I promise.” I turn to my mom. “I’m not doing this to hurt you, Mom. I swear. I’m just trying to figure stuff out. Whatever I decide, I hope you’ll support me. But regardless, I’m going to make this decision myself, and I’m going to do what makes sense for me.”