Chapter 3
Vanessa pushed the envelope deeper into her bag.
Dad held out his hand.
“What is that?”
“School information.”
“For Maya?”
“Yes.”
I stood behind him.
My hands felt numb.
“Why?” I asked.
Vanessa gave a small, impatient sigh.
“Because we were exploring options.”
“Who is we?”
“Adults, Maya.”
Dad’s voice cut through the room.
“She asked a fair question.”
Vanessa took out the envelope and laid it on the coffee table.
The school brochure showed smiling students on a wide lawn. It described supervised study, residential accommodation, and a summer transition program.
There was also an application.
My date of birth was correct.
My school was correct.
My emergency contacts were not.
Vanessa had listed herself first.
Darren was second.
Dad stared at the page.
“Why is Darren an emergency contact for my daughter?”
“It’s only a draft.”
I turned another sheet.
Dad’s signature appeared at the bottom.
He leaned closer.
“That isn’t mine.”
Nobody moved.
Isaiah said, “Mom?”
Vanessa snatched at the page.
Dad pulled it away.
“I told you not to take things out of my hands.”
“I was trying to show you something.”
“You were trying to remove it.”
He set the papers down.
“Did you submit this?”
“No.”
Kendra’s face had gone pale.
I saw her open her mouth and close it again.
Dad looked at her.
“Kendra?”
Vanessa turned sharply.
“Leave the children out of this.”
“They are already in it.”
Kendra swallowed.
“I saw an email.”
“What email?”
“From the school. It said they received the application.”
Vanessa stared at her.
I had never seen my stepsister look so frightened of her own mother.
Dad asked when.
“Last week.”
“Did you read it?”
“Only the subject. Mom asked me to print something from her laptop.”
Vanessa sat down.
“It was preliminary. There was no commitment.”
I looked at the application.
Reason for placement: difficulty adjusting to blended household.
I read it twice.
Then a line below it.
Parent reports persistent conflict and resistance to household expectations.
“Is that what you think I am?” I asked.
Vanessa looked annoyed.
“You’ve been unhappy.”
“You canceled my vacation.”
“This was before the vacation.”
“You were sending me away before you told me I couldn’t come?”
Dad put his hand on the page.
“Maya, look at me.”
I could not.
I kept reading.
The application said I needed structure.
It said I had trouble accepting family authority.
It did not mention that I did laundry while everyone else watched television. It did not mention dinners I ate alone because I came home late from helping Aunt Simone.
It did not mention my mother.
Mom had died when I was nine. Dad married Vanessa three years later.
I had tried to like her because he looked happy again.
I thought liking her meant not mentioning everything she said when he was gone.
Dad called Aunt Simone.
He asked whether she could have me stay that night.
Vanessa protested immediately.
“You’re teaching her to run away when things get difficult.”
Dad looked at her.
“I’m making sure she gets a quiet night while I find out what you’ve done.”
“She belongs here.”
I let out a breath.
Those were the words I had wanted from her.
She only said them when Dad was opening the door.
Aunt Simone arrived twenty minutes later.
She hugged me before asking anything.
Then she looked at Dad.
“What happened?”
He gave her the short version.
Her eyes moved toward Vanessa.
She did not argue.
She asked me to get my bag.
Upstairs, my suitcase lay open on the bed.
The yellow dress was still folded on top.
I put it into a smaller bag, then stopped.
I did not know why I was taking it.
I took it anyway.
Kendra appeared at my door.
“Can I come in?”
I nodded.
She stood near the desk.
“I didn’t know about staying home.”
“You heard her say it.”
“I thought Marcus had agreed. That’s what she told us.”
“You could have asked me.”
“I know.”
I looked at her.
Kendra was seventeen. She had always seemed so sure of where she belonged.
Tonight she looked younger.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I nodded, but I did not say it was all right.
She saw the dress.
“It’s pretty.”
“I bought it for the trip.”
Her eyes filled.
She stepped aside so I could leave.
Downstairs, Dad waited with Simone.
He held my coat.
“I’ll call you before bed,” he said.
“Are we still going?”
“The vacation?”
I nodded.
“I don’t know the timing yet. But you are not being left behind.”
I wanted more certainty.
I also knew he was finally telling me what he actually knew.
In Simone’s car, I stared at the streetlights.
She kept both hands on the steering wheel.
“You can tell me now or tomorrow,” she said.
“Can I just sleep?”
“Of course.”
At her house, she made toast and put my bag in the guest room.
Dad called at ten.
He had contacted the school and asked it to stop processing the application.
Then he said something that made me sit up.
“The application was submitted with a deposit.”
May you like
“Whose money?”
“Mine.”
