Chapter 1 - The Envelope With My Name
The day my stepmother snatched a notebook from my hands, I discovered that my father had been sending money I never received.
But the missing school supplies were only the beginning.
Because hidden inside our dining room was a sealed envelope from my dead mother.
And when my grandmother found it, my stepmother looked as though she had seen a ghost.
My name is Isaiah Carter.
I was nine years old when everything happened.
Until that afternoon, I believed my father had forgotten about me.
He worked construction projects in another state and came home whenever he could.
Sometimes he called every night.
Sometimes several days passed before I heard his voice.
My stepmother, Tasha, always had an explanation.
"Your father's busy, Isaiah."
Or sometimes:
"Stop bothering him. He has enough problems without you."
I tried to understand.
I really did.
But understanding became harder when school started.
My backpack had a broken zipper.
The straps were beginning to tear.
My sneakers had holes near the toes.
And the notebooks I carried were mostly filled with pages from the previous year.
Meanwhile, my stepsiblings had everything.
Jordan was eleven.
Ava was seven.
They were Tasha's children from her first marriage.
We lived together in a beautiful house in Georgia.
Tasha always told people we were one big happy family.
But inside that house, there were two kinds of children.
Her children.
And me.
I learned the difference slowly.
Jordan got new clothes whenever he wanted.
Ava received expensive toys for no reason.
When I asked for something, Tasha always sighed.
"Money doesn't grow on trees."
I believed her.
Until the afternoon Grandma Evelyn visited.
***
The dining-room table was covered with school supplies.
Brand-new backpacks.
Colored notebooks.
Pencil cases.
Fresh sneakers.
Everything smelled new.
Jordan was trying on a pair of expensive shoes.
Ava was arranging glittery pens inside a pink backpack.
I stood near the doorway holding my faded blue bag.
The zipper hung open.
I'd tried to fix it with a safety pin that morning.
Tasha stood beside the table, checking receipts.
"Jordan, make sure those fit."
"They're perfect, Mom!"
Ava lifted a purple notebook.
"Look at mine!"
I smiled at her.
Then I noticed a plain blue notebook sitting beside the others.
It wasn't fancy.
It didn't have pictures.
But it was thick enough for my math class.
I stepped closer.
"Can I use this one?"
Tasha didn't answer.
I reached for it.
Before my fingers could close around the cover, she snatched it away.
"Those aren't yours."
Her voice was sharp enough to make me jump.
She threw the notebook back onto the table.
Jordan stopped tying his shoes.
Ava stared at me.
I looked down at my backpack.
"But Dad sent money for my school things."
Tasha turned toward me.
Her eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?"
"Dad told me he was sending money."
She laughed.
"Your father sends money for the whole family. That doesn't mean you get to grab whatever you want."
My cheeks burned.
"I wasn't grabbing."
"Don't argue with me."
I lowered my head.
"Sorry."
That was when Grandma Evelyn entered the dining room.
She'd come through the kitchen carrying a container of homemade cookies.
She stopped when she saw me.
Then she looked at the table.
Her smile disappeared.
"Isaiah, baby, where are your school supplies?"
I swallowed.
"I have my backpack."
She looked at the torn bag.
Then at Jordan's new shoes.
Then at Ava's full pencil case.
Slowly, she placed the cookies on a chair.
"Tasha."
My stepmother forced a smile.
"Hello, Evelyn."
Grandma didn't smile back.
"Where are Isaiah's things?"
Tasha folded her arms.
"I haven't finished shopping."
Grandma glanced at the receipts.
"School starts Monday."
"I know when school starts."
Grandma picked up one of the papers.
She studied it.
Then another.
Then the third.
Her expression grew darker.
"How much did you spend here?"
Tasha stepped forward.
"That's private."
Grandma ignored her.
She added the amounts on her phone.
Then looked up.
"Malcolm sent five hundred dollars specifically for school supplies."
My heart jumped.
Five hundred dollars?
Dad had never told me the amount.
Grandma held up the receipt.
"So where did Isaiah's money go?"
Tasha's face changed.
Just a little.
But I noticed.
"I bought things the children needed."
"Which children?"
Silence.
Grandma pointed toward my bag.
"That boy has been carrying the same broken backpack for two years."
Tasha rolled her eyes.
"He's rough with his belongings."
Grandma's voice rose.
"His shoes barely fit!"
"Stop interfering in my house."
Grandma placed the receipt on the table.
"This is my grandson's home too."
Then her phone rang.
Dad's name appeared on the screen.
Grandma answered immediately.
"Malcolm, where are you?"
I heard his voice.
"I'm at the job site. Everything okay?"
Grandma looked at me.
"No. Everything is not okay."
Tasha moved closer.
"Evelyn, don't make this into something bigger."
Grandma ignored her.
"Malcolm, did you send five hundred dollars for the children's school supplies?"
"Yes."
"And did you send money specifically for Isaiah?"
Dad paused.
"Of course I did."
Grandma's expression hardened.
"He's standing here with a broken backpack and no new supplies."
Dad went silent.
Then his voice changed.
"What?"
I felt tears building in my eyes.
Grandma continued.
"Tasha claims she hasn't finished shopping."
Dad answered quickly.
"Mom, I sent more than school money."
The dining room became completely quiet.
Even Jordan stopped moving.
Grandma frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Dad's voice sounded strained.
"There was an envelope from Isaiah's mother."
My heart seemed to stop.
Mom?
Nobody had mentioned an envelope before.
My mother, Danielle, had died when I was five.
I remembered her warm hands.
Her beautiful singing voice.
The way she kissed my forehead before bedtime.
But I didn't have many things left that belonged to her.
Tasha had packed most of them away after marrying Dad.
She said keeping old things made people sad.
Grandma turned toward her.
"Where is that envelope?"
Tasha shook her head.
"I don't know what he's talking about."
Dad's voice came through the phone.
"Tasha, I told you to put it somewhere safe for Isaiah."
Grandma stared at the drawers beneath the dining-room cabinet.
Then she walked toward them.
Tasha rushed forward.
"Evelyn, don't go through my things!"
Grandma pulled open the first drawer.
Tablecloths.
Candles.
Old receipts.
Nothing.
She opened the second.
Inside was a brown folder.
And beneath it lay a cream-colored envelope.
My name was written across the front.
ISAIAH.
The letters were slightly curved.
I knew that handwriting.
It was my mother's.
Grandma lifted the envelope.
Tasha lunged forward.
"Give me that!"
Grandma jerked it away.
"Why was this hidden?"
Tasha's face drained of color.
"That doesn't belong to you!"
"It belongs to Isaiah!"
Dad spoke again.
"Mom, check the bank statements too."
Grandma opened the brown folder.
Inside were printed records.
She turned the first page.
Then the second.
I watched her face.
Her mouth slowly opened.
"What in God's name..."
She held up one statement.
Across the top was a name.
ISAIAH CARTER.
Underneath were numbers.
Dates.
Withdrawals.
The same amount disappearing again and again.
Grandma looked at Tasha.
"You've been taking money from his account?"
Tasha backed toward the kitchen.
"I can explain."
My stomach twisted.
I didn't understand everything.
But I understood that Grandma was frightened.
And that Tasha had something she didn't want us to know.
I tugged Grandma's sleeve.
"Grandma?"
She looked down.
My voice trembled.
"Was that Mom's money?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
She knelt beside me.
"Oh, baby."
I looked at the envelope.
"Did Mom leave me something?"
Grandma pressed her lips together.
Then slowly stood.
She slipped a finger beneath the sealed flap.
Tasha made a desperate sound.
"No! Evelyn, please!"
Grandma stopped.
I stared at her hands.
May you like
The paper began to open.
And in that terrible silence, I realized the envelope might contain the last words my mother had ever written to me.
