Chapter 2
Vanessa followed Dad into the kitchen.
I stayed in the living room because my legs still felt weak.
“Dad, seriously.”
Her voice had changed.
No smugness.
No laughter.
She sounded scared.
“I said I was sorry.”
“You haven't apologized.”
“I just did.”
Dad turned around.
“No. You said you're sorry because you lost your phone.”
Vanessa's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Grandma Ruth walked into the kitchen behind them.
“Marcus, you're blowing this out of proportion.”
Dad looked exhausted.
He had worked ten hours that day.
His shirt was wrinkled.
There were dark circles under his eyes.
Yet I had never seen him stand straighter.
“Mom, please stay out of this.”
Grandma stiffened.
“She is my granddaughter.”
“So is Maya.”
The room became silent.
My name sounded strange coming from him that way.
Not because Dad rarely said it.
Because nobody had ever answered Grandma like that before.
Grandma crossed her arms.
“I love both girls equally.”
Dad nodded toward me.
“Then why is Maya always expected to forgive Vanessa?”
I swallowed.
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“There we go.”
Dad turned.
“What does that mean?”
“Everybody thinks Maya is perfect.”
“I don't.”
“Yes, you do.”
Vanessa pointed at me.
“She gets good grades and suddenly she's the family princess.”
I couldn't stay quiet anymore.
“I work for my grades.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Exactly. You always say things like that.”
“Because it's true.”
“You make everyone else feel stupid.”
“I've never called you stupid.”
“You don't have to.”
Dad stepped between us.
“Stop.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
For a moment, she looked ready to explode.
Instead, she turned away.
Dad waited.
Vanessa stared through the kitchen window.
“When people ask about Maya, Grandma tells them she's going to some amazing university.”
Her voice was quieter.
“When people ask about me, they ask if I'm still working at the salon.”
Grandma's face changed.
I felt something unexpected.
Not forgiveness.
But understanding.
Vanessa had dropped out of community college two years earlier.
She told everyone it was because she hated school.
I had never known whether that was true.
Dad's expression softened slightly.
“That doesn't give you permission to hurt your sister.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Vanessa wiped her eyes angrily.
“You're proud of her.”
“Of course I'm proud of her.”
“And you're embarrassed by me.”
Dad stared at her.
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, Vanessa.”
His voice cracked.
“I am worried about you.”
That shut her up.
Dad leaned against the counter.
“I don't care whether you go to college.”
Vanessa blinked.
“I care whether you're building a life you're proud of.”
She looked down.
Dad continued.
“You've spent two years watching your sister move forward while convincing yourself she's the reason you're standing still.”
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then she looked at me.
“She still thinks she's better.”
“No,” I said.
“I don't.”
“You do.”
“I wanted you at my graduation.”
She looked surprised.
“I wanted you there because you're my sister.”
My voice trembled.
“You didn't come.”
She looked away.
“I had work.”
“You posted pictures from a bar that night.”
Grandma whispered her name.
“Vanessa.”
For once, Grandma sounded disappointed.
Vanessa's eyes filled again.
“I didn't want to sit there listening to everybody praise her.”
The honesty hurt more than any lie.
Dad nodded slowly.
“At least now we're getting somewhere.”
Vanessa wiped her cheeks.
“So what? You're going to punish me until I magically stop being jealous?”
“No.”
Dad pulled her phone from his pocket.
Her eyes immediately followed it.
“You're going to earn this back.”
“How?”
“You'll replace what you destroyed.”
Vanessa frowned.
“But you said the scholarship office—”
“Not the letter.”
Dad pointed toward me.
“Trust.”
Vanessa looked uncomfortable.
“You'll apologize properly.”
She remained silent.
“And you're going to spend the next month contributing to this house instead of acting like everybody owes you something.”
“What does that mean?”
“You'll help with groceries.”
“I already pay rent.”
“You pay one hundred dollars when you remember.”
Her cheeks reddened.
Grandma looked at the floor.
I realized Grandma had probably been covering for her.
Dad continued.
“And tomorrow, you're coming with Maya and me.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“Where?”
“To the scholarship office.”
“No.”
Dad's expression hardened again.
“That wasn't a question.”
“Why do I have to go?”
“Because you're going to sit there while your sister gets another copy of the letter you destroyed.”
Vanessa looked humiliated already.
“And afterward,” Dad said, “you're taking her to lunch.”
“With what money?”
“Your money.”
She looked outraged.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Dad handed me the two pieces of the scholarship letter.
“Keep these.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because someday you'll look at them and remember something important.”
“What?”
“That somebody else's jealousy cannot cancel what you've earned.”
My throat tightened.
Grandma slowly sat at the kitchen table.
She suddenly looked older.
“Maya.”
I turned toward her.
She sighed.
“I shouldn't have said it was just paper.”
Vanessa looked at her.
Grandma continued.
“I was trying to stop a fight.”
Dad shook his head.
“No. You were trying to avoid discomfort.”
Grandma's eyes flashed.
But she didn't argue.
Dad looked at her.
“And every time you protect Vanessa from consequences, somebody else pays for it.”
Those words hit the room like thunder.
Grandma stared at me.
I wondered if she was remembering every time she had told me to let something go.
She reached for my hand.
I didn't take hers.
Not yet.
“I need some time,” I said.
Her face fell.
But she nodded.
That night, I went upstairs and taped the two halves of my scholarship letter together.
The cut ran directly through the university seal.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then my laptop chimed.
An email had arrived.
The subject line made my heart stop.
URGENT: SCHOLARSHIP DOCUMENTATION REVIEW
I opened it.
My excitement vanished almost immediately.
The scholarship committee had received an anonymous message claiming that information on my application was false.
And unless I could prove otherwise within forty-eight hours, my award could be suspended.
I read the email twice.
Then a third time.
My hands went cold.
Someone had tried to do more than destroy my letter.
May you like
Someone had tried to destroy my scholarship.
And only four people in the house knew enough about my application to make the accusation sound convincing.
