he for-profit art s

s flimsy, the instructors were uninspired, and her classmates wer

acement classes in high school with bare

a string of meaningless part-time jobs at coffee shops and retail stores to pay for her art suppli

tion center. She found me in the library, surro

e doing?" she hissed, he

calmly, not looking up

ck to school, selling the house. You're doing this to

at her. Her eyes were wild, her cl

," I said, my voice even. "I'm living

ovement was the ultimate betrayal. It wasn't

r students. "I will! I'm moving to Florida to live

ingle moving truck came and took h

on of emancipation she had filed, officially severing all legal ties and re

hain that had bound me to her, to my tra