Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Mason Gentry uncaps his water bottle, chiming in, “When is it not nice?”
Like when you’re bored but too scared to change things. Adult decisions are like jumping out of a plane. Once you leap, there’s nothing to do but wait and see if the chute opens.
That’s too heavy for a high school philosophy course, though.
“We talked about freedom last week.” I drift around the room, ignoring his question. “You’re thirty. Free from school. Free from your parents. Free from being a child,” I state their hypothetical. “You can drink, smoke, do drugs, stay out late, sleep with who you want…Are you free?”
“No one’s telling us what to do,” Daisy Martinez offers.
“You’re stranded on an island,” Ginny fires back. “No one’s telling you what to do there, either. You’re not free, though, because you don’t have choices.”
“You don’t have the choices you want,” Atlas interjects. “Like where you’re getting takeout from that night. But there’s also no demands on your time, either.”
Are we free if we have no responsibilities?
Anna-Katherine hops up on the windowsill, her right foot tucked under her left leg, a notebook and pencil on her thigh.
I steer the conversation, looking at Ginny. “Why do you like to get up early?”
She shrugs, her blond ponytail swaying a little. “I like having the house to myself.”
I tip my chin at Whitney. “Why do you stay up late?”
“No one’s bothering me to do things.”
So they both make a different decision for the same reason. They want to be left alone.
Digging in a little more, I turn my gaze to Ginny again. “What’s a consequence of getting up late?”
“I’ll be behind on my day.”
Then to Whitney, “What’s a consequence of going to bed early?”
She smiles. “I’ll miss the fun.”
Atlas joins in her laughter, and I start to piece together the difference in their motivations, but Mason speaks up. “So they’re both afraid, then.”
I look around Daisy to meet his eyes.
“Technically?” he asks. “They’re making decisions out of fear of consequences. That’s not freedom, right?”
Most decisions are made out of fear. We work for fear of poverty. We see doctors to solve health problems before they worsen. Army puts AirTags in Dex’s shoes to track him in case of an emergency. Does it mean we’re not free?
“Freedom is a legal term,” Sadie tells us. “We have the right to think and act of our own will, but we’re not free from consequences or responsibility.”
“I am,” Atlas says almost immediately. “A lot of people are. Do you have any idea how many cigarettes I smoke in these bathrooms and never suffer a consequence?”
But Sadie is quick to respond, “But why do you smoke?”
“Because I like it.”
“Did you smoke this morning?”
“Why, you want one?” he teases.
Everyone laughs, and I continue to walk, passing Anna-Katherine as I stroll to the back of the room.
“Why didn’t you run a few miles instead?” Sadie presses him.
“Because I didn’t want to.”
“You wanted to smoke,” she clarifies.
“No, he had to.”
I look up, meeting Anna-Katherine’s gaze. Everyone turns their attention to her.
Her big, round eyes look timid, as if she didn’t mean to join in the discussion. “I couldn’t eat my healthy cereal this morning.” She offers a tight smile. “I had to have Pop-Tarts.”
“Same, sister,” Mason adds, chuckling.
But the words hit home more than I would like.
I couldn’t deny myself my vices. I had to conquer every new piece of ass that came my way and drink to escape the thoughts I didn’t want to have.
I couldn’t talk to anyone who loved me. I had to hurt others before they hurt me.
I couldn’t swallow my pride and go to my mother. I had to stay on those stairs that day.
“So freedom is discipline?” Anna-Katherine finally asks. “Control over yourself so nothing else controls you?”
I lower my eyes, trying to hide that I have to swallow a couple of times to wet my throat.
It was fun for a while. Doing what I wanted and pushing off anyone who got in my way, because there was more fun right around the corner. To distract me.
After a while, though, I wasn’t doing anything because I wanted to.
I was doing it because I couldn’t stop. We get addicted to the diversion.
Freedom…is having the discipline to do what we know we should.
My throat tightens, and I try to speak, but my voice comes out raspy. “Hypothetical. You’re twenty-five years old now,” I say, leading to the next assignment. “Who’s your mentor?”
Heading to the front of the classroom, I list the discussion points on the board.
“Who do you go to who loves you and will tell you what’s best for you?” I recite the list. “Who will teach you discipline? Not just tell you what you want to hear. Who is the example you measure yourself against? What do they advise you to do with your life?”