The Leftovers

had been really nice, and they’d thrown a great New Year’s party while her father was on vacation. In the weeks since then, Jill had made a point of asserting her independence from Aimee, no longer going out every night, making a good-faith effort to keep up with her schoolwork and spend a little more time with her dad. It seemed like they’d finally come up with a balance everyone could live with.
    “I’ve never paid rent before,” Aimee said, “so I have no idea what the going rate would be, especially in a beautiful house like this. But I guess the landlord decides that, right?”
    Her father winced at the word landlord.
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’re a high school student. How’re you going to pay rent?”
    “That’s the other thing I wanted to tell you.” Aimee seemed suddenly unsure of herself. “I think I’m done with school.”
    “What?”
    Jill was startled to see that Aimee was blushing, because Aimee never blushed.
    “I’m dropping out,” she said.
    “Why would you do that?” he asked. “You’re gonna graduate in a few months.”
    “You didn’t see my report card,” Aimee told him. “I failed everything last semester, even gym. If I want to graduate I’m going to have to go back next year, and I’d rather shoot myself than be a fifth-year senior.” She turned to Jill, requesting backup. “Go ahead, tell him what a fuckup I am.”
    “It’s true,” Jill said. “She can’t even remember how to open her locker.”
    “Look who’s talking,” he said.
    “I’m gonna do better this term,” Jill promised, thinking how much easier it would be to buckle down with Aimee out of the picture. They wouldn’t be walking to school every morning, getting stoned behind the supermarket, or sneaking out for two-hour lunches. I can be myself again, she thought. Grow my hair back, start hanging out with my old friends …
    “Besides,” Aimee added. “I got a job. You remember Derek from the yogurt store? He’s managing the new Applebee’s over at Stonewood Plaza. He hired me as a server. Full-time, starting next week. The uniforms are ugly, but the tips should be pretty good.”
    “Derek?” Jill didn’t try to hide her disgust. “I thought you hated him.”
    Their old boss was a sleazeball, a married guy in his mid-thirties—his key chain was an LCD cube that flashed pictures of his baby son—who liked to buy alcohol for his underage female employees and ask lots of probing questions about their sex lives. Ever use a vibrator? he’d asked Jill one night, totally out of the blue. I bet you’d like it. He’d even offered to buy her one, just because she seemed like such a nice person.
    “I don’t hate him.” Aimee took a sip of water, then heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. “God, I can’t wait to get out of that school. I get depressed every time I walk down the hall. All those assholes on parade.”
    “Guess what?” her father said. “They’ll all come to Applebee’s, and you’ll have to be nice to them.”
    “So? At least I’ll be getting paid for it. And you know what the best part is?” Aimee paused, smirking proudly. “I get to sleep in every day, as late as I want. No more waking up hungover at the crack of dawn. So I’d really appreciate it if you guys kept your voices down in the morning.”
    “Ha ha,” Jill said, trying to fend off a sudden troubling vision of the house after she left for school, Aimee wandering through the kitchen in nothing but a T-shirt and panties, her father watching from the table as she guzzled OJ straight from the carton, every day a disaster waiting to happen. It made her really glad that he had a new girlfriend, a woman close to his own age, even if she was a little spooky.
    “Listen.” He seemed seriously concerned, as if Aimee were his own daughter. “I really think you should reconsider. You’re too smart to quit school.”
    Aimee exhaled slowly, like she was beginning to lose her patience.
    “Mr. Garvey,” she said, “if you’re really uncomfortable with this, I guess I can find somewhere else to live.”
    “This isn’t about where you live. I just don’t want you to sell yourself short.”
    “I get that. And I really appreciate it. But you’re not gonna change my mind.”
    “All right.” He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead with three fingertips, the way he did when he had a headache. “How about this? In a month or two, after you’ve been working for a while, we can