Snap Book 4
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Lyra Lawson
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Chapter One
Book 4: Snitch
AUTUMN
Donât grin and bear it.
When somethingâs wrong, donât sit back and accept your fate. Say no. Take matters into your own hands. Donât stop fighting until youâve flipped the situation for yourself.
Itâs the most important lesson my parents have ever taught me.
For the first time in my life, Iâm ignoring their advice.
The semester ahead of me is shaping up to be a complete and total disaster, and I have no choice but to trek through with a fake smile on my face.
âYou could decline the offer and apply somewhere else next semester,â Mom suggests, running her fingers through my subtly purple ombrĂŠ hair.
This morning, I received an email from my academic advisor informing me that my fall semester internship wonât be at Brooklyn Studios, the boutique interior design firm I desperately want to employ me.
That wasnât the exact wording, but it was the main takeaway point. What it actually said was that my school-sponsored internship would take place at the Sumner Museum of Fine Arts and Natural History.
I donât remember applying there, and I hate myself for filling out that application, which I probably did when I was sleep-deprived and delirious during finals week last semester.
Thatâs the only possible explanation as to why I would willingly submit my resume to a museum that feels the need to display art alongside dinosaur bones.
Why they need an interior design intern, I do not know.
My dad made a bunch of jokes about dinosaurs decorating meteor shelters until Mom whacked his arm to shut him up, so maybe thatâs it.
âI already told everyone I was applying to internships,â I say with a sigh.
Clearly, this is why Brooklyn Studios doesnât want me. Iâm a dumbass. I shouldnât have divulged anything until I had a cool surprise.
âYou canât say you changed your mind?â she asks.
I could, but people would ask questions that I donât want to answer. âEh. Itâs paid, so maybe itâs better than Brooklyn Studios.â I sigh because sighing is really my only way of communicating today.
âNo matter where the internship is, it will be a rĂŠsumĂŠ booster, and theyâre paying you, which shows that they value their interns.
âYou arenât just free labor,â Dad says in his business voice, his enthusiasm somewhat undercut by the massive glass of wine he pours me as he speaks.
My eyes flit from the chardonnay to my vibrating phone, and yet another sigh escapes my lips.
A minute ago, my roommate and college best friend Casey responded to my paragraph-long rant about my dreaded new workplace with a motivational speech punctuated with festive emojis. I appreciated that text.
The one flashing on my screen now, not so much. Hence the sigh.
According to the second message, Iâm not the only Cordray College sophomore interning at the Sumner Museum of Fine Arts and Natural History.
Grayson Waters will also be doing his fall internship among paintings and taxidermal animals.
Grayson, Gray for short because that makes him more mysterious or whatever, is Caseyâs boyfriend.
Theyâve been together since February, and Iâm still trying to figure out what she sees in him.
I suppose heâs nice enough, and he can be funny on occasion, albeit unintentionally, but the man is dumb as the dinosaur fossils weâre soon to spend long hours with.
âYou alright?â Dad asks.
My dramatic sighs are anything but subtle.
âGrayson is interning there too.â
He and Mom wrinkle their noses in support.
They met my future colleague while helping me and Casey move into our new apartment at the end of the last school year.
Mom thought GraysonâI will not call him Gray because heâs too stupid to be mysteriousâseemed friendly but a tad dim-witted. Her words, not mine.
Dad said he was surprised that Grayson had figured out the elevator and made it to our seventh-floor shoebox of a living space in Brooklyn.
âThat means youâre already better than one of their interns,â Dad points out cheerily.
My sweet, sweet motherâs jaw drops for a moment before she exclaims, âItâs not a competition!â
âYes, it is,â Dad and I inform her at the same time.
She downs the rest of her wine.
âWell, you have him beat then,â she mutters, shaking her head.
If my mom ran the world, weâd all hold hands and sing happy songs. Thank God she doesnât.
I wouldnât last a day, and Iâm my parentsâ only kid, so theyâd be shit out of luck.
âIs Dylan back at school yet?â Dad asks in an unreadable tone.
I was wondering when the boy-related questions would start.
Dylan is my fuck buddy.
Iâm pretty sure he caught feelings at some point last year, so I should probably cut him loose, but he has a great dick. Heâs also witty and hotâtwo important boyfriend qualities.
If I didnât find relationships repulsive, I might have given him a chance.
Dad thinks Dylan is my boyfriend. The day after my parents had the misfortune of meeting Grayson, they ran into Dylan in my apartment.
I left an hour-long window between our end-of-the-year fuck and the time when my parents were supposed to return from lunch, but they got back early and encountered a shirtless Dylan in the living room.
Because Mom and Dad already knew about Graysonâs existence, I couldnât pretend the random blonde guy in our apartment belonged to Casey.
After a moment of pure panic, I blurted out that Dylan and I were dating, which, I think, got his hopes up.
Mom figured it out pretty quickly.
A week into summer break, she knocked on my door, sat on my bed, and said, âDylan isnât actually your boyfriend, is he?â
I shared the truth and had her sworn to secrecy.
I probably would have been honest from the start if Dad hadnât been around during the Dylan encounter.
My dad and my friendsâ parents get all psycho about dating and sex, but Mom has always let me be open with her on those rather scandalous topics.
She was totally unfazed last night when I asked for her wisdom on if and how I should dump Dylan. Her advice was to politely but firmly tell him that Iâm not looking for a relationship and donât want to lead him on.
To answer Dadâs question, I havenât the slightest clue if Dylan is back at school yet. âUh, no idea. Iâve been ignoring him a little. Iâm probably going to end things whenever I see him.â
Dad pretends to shiver. âLet him down easy. He seemed like a nice kid.â
I shrug. Iâll try to let him down easy, but he can get real whiny, and I donât have the patience for that. âIâll do my best,â I promise.
Dad shakes his head lovingly and wraps an arm around my shoulders. âItâll be a good year for you, Autumn. I can feel it.â
Considering I have a weird-ass internship and an âitâs not you; itâs meâ talk waiting for me to kick off my sophomore year, Iâm not so certain I agree, but whatever.
Thatâs literally a tomorrow problem, so I pour myself another glass of wine, lean back, and try not to think about how much Iâll miss my parents when Iâm on the other side of the country for the semester.
