Chapter 1 - The Vacation I Wasn't Invited To
My stepmother waved three plane tickets in my face while I stood in the living room holding a basket of dirty laundry.
"We're going to Hawaii, Maya. You're staying home."
For a moment, I honestly thought she was joking.
I looked at the tickets.
HONOLULU.
Three seats.
Three names.
Vanessa Williams.
Jordan Williams.
Nia Williams.
My name wasn't there.
I looked at the black suitcases lined up beside the couch.
Then at my stepsiblings, who were grinning like they had just won the lottery.
"Wait," I whispered. "You're all going to Hawaii?"
Vanessa smiled.
"Seven wonderful days in paradise."
Jordan, her seventeen-year-old son, stretched across the couch.
"Oceanfront hotel, baby. Private beach access."
Nia, her fifteen-year-old daughter, giggled.
"And we're getting massages at the resort!"
I looked at Vanessa.
"What about Dad?"
"Your father is working."
I swallowed.
"And me?"
Her smile widened.
"You're staying here."
The laundry basket suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
"Why?"
Vanessa leaned back against the couch.
"Because somebody needs to look after the house."
I stared at her.
"Couldn't we all go another time?"
She laughed.
"Maya, sweetheart, this trip is for my children."
The word hit me harder than I expected.
My children.
Not our family.
Not all of us.
Just hers.
I looked at Jordan and Nia.
Neither said anything.
Jordan examined his phone.
Nia continued smiling.
My throat tightened.
"But I thought we were a family."
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"Don't start crying."
"I'm not crying."
"Then stop making that face."
I looked down.
One tear fell onto the white laundry basket.
Vanessa sighed dramatically.
"Honestly, Maya, you're sixteen. You should be grateful you're trusted to stay home."
I wanted to tell her I wasn't asking to be trusted.
I was asking to be included.
But I knew better.
Ever since Vanessa married my father three years earlier, our house had been divided into two groups.
Her children.
And me.
Jordan got new sneakers whenever he wanted.
Nia had expensive birthday parties.
I had to ask permission to replace school supplies.
When Vanessa cooked dinner, she served her children first.
When Dad traveled for work, she left me chores that took hours to complete.
And whenever I complained, she told him I was jealous.
Dad usually believed her.
Or maybe he simply didn't want another argument.
I had stopped trying to understand the difference.
"How much did this cost?" I asked quietly.
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"That's none of your business."
"Did Dad pay for it?"
She crossed her legs.
"Your father and I share finances."
I remembered the conversation Dad and I had two months earlier.
He had asked where I wanted to go for summer vacation.
I told him Hawaii.
My mother had always dreamed of taking me there.
Before she died, she kept pictures of Honolulu beaches inside a little notebook.
Dad promised we would go someday.
I had carried that promise in my heart for six years.
Now Vanessa was taking her children there.
Without me.
"Does Dad know I'm not going?" I whispered.
Vanessa laughed.
"Your father has more important things to worry about than your feelings."
Something broke inside me.
I lowered my head.
"Okay."
I turned toward the hallway.
But Vanessa stopped me.
"Where are you going?"
"To finish the laundry."
"Good. And before we leave tomorrow, wash Jordan's vacation clothes."
Jordan grinned.
"Don't shrink my shirts."
Nia giggled.
"And iron my white dress."
I nodded.
I hated myself for nodding.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"Why is Maya ironing your clothes?"
My entire body froze.
Dad.
Marcus Bennett stood in the doorway wearing his dark navy sweater.
His gray beard framed a face that looked unusually serious.
He had returned from work early.
Vanessa immediately sat straighter.
"Marcus! You're home!"
Dad didn't smile.
He looked at my face.
Then at the tickets in Vanessa's hand.
"What's going on?"
Vanessa waved dismissively.
"Oh, nothing. We're just discussing vacation arrangements."
Dad stepped closer.
"What arrangements?"
She hesitated.
Then smiled.
"The children and I are going to Honolulu tomorrow."
Dad frowned.
"All the children?"
Nobody answered.
I stared at the carpet.
Vanessa cleared her throat.
"Well, Jordan and Nia."
Dad looked at me.
"Maya?"
I shook my head.
His expression changed.
"Why aren't you going?"
Before I could answer, Vanessa spoke.
"Because this trip is for my kids."
Silence.
Dad stared at her.
Then he walked straight past me.
He took the tickets from Vanessa's hand.
For several seconds, he examined them.
"Three seats?"
Vanessa's smile faded.
"Marcus, don't make this complicated."
Dad looked up.
"You used our money to take a family vacation and excluded my daughter?"
Vanessa folded her arms.
"She'll survive one week alone."
Dad's jaw tightened.
I had never seen him look at her that way.
"One week alone?"
"She's sixteen!"
"She's my daughter."
Vanessa shrugged.
"And Jordan and Nia are mine."
Dad stared at her.
"Thank you for making that distinction so clear."
He pulled out his phone.
Vanessa frowned.
"What are you doing?"
Dad dialed a number.
When someone answered, his voice became cold and steady.
"This is Marcus Bennett. I need to cancel the Honolulu flights, hotel reservation, and rental car associated with my account."
Vanessa jumped to her feet.
"Marcus!"
He held up one hand.
"Yes. Cancel the complete package."
Jordan sat upright.
"Wait! What?"
Nia's mouth fell open.
"Dad, no!"
Marcus ignored them.
"Please email the cancellation confirmation."
He ended the call.
Vanessa stared at him.
"You cannot do that!"
Dad picked up a printed booking receipt.
He tore it cleanly in half.
"Apparently, I just did."
Vanessa's face turned pale.
"You've ruined everything!"
Dad stepped beside me.
His hand settled gently on my shoulder.
"If my daughter isn't family enough for your vacation, neither is my money."
My eyes filled with tears.
For the first time in three years, Dad had defended me without asking whether I had misunderstood.
Vanessa opened her mouth.
But he wasn't finished.
He looked down at the paperwork in his hand.
Two separate tickets remained tucked behind the canceled reservation.
He examined them.
Then he turned toward me.
"Maya."
"Yes, Dad?"
His expression softened.
"Go pack."
I blinked.
"What?"
He placed the two tickets against his chest so Vanessa couldn't see them.
"Pack your favorite clothes."
My heart began racing.
"Where are we going?"
Dad glanced at Vanessa.
She stood frozen beside her furious children.
Then he looked back at me.
His eyes held something I hadn't seen in years.
A promise.
May you like
"Somewhere you should have been taken a long time ago."
And when Vanessa saw the names printed on those two tickets, her face drained of every trace of color.
