Chapter 2
Dad’s hand stayed on the car door.
Neither of us spoke.
From inside the house, Vanessa’s voice carried through the open window.
“You said you handled it!”
Mom answered too quietly for me to hear.
Dad looked at me.
“What money?”
My stomach tightened.
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
At least I thought it was.
Dad went back toward the house.
I followed.
The moment he opened the door, Vanessa stopped yelling.
Mom stood near the sofa, pale.
Dad closed the door behind us.
“What money?”
Mom crossed her arms.
“Michael, this is not the time.”
“That depends on what she meant.”
Vanessa wiped her face.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Vanessa,” Mom warned.
Dad looked between them.
“Tell me what?”
I had never seen Mom look frightened of Dad before.
Not because he was threatening.
Dad never threatened anyone.
She was frightened because he was asking a question she didn’t want to answer.
Finally she said, “It was a misunderstanding.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“A misunderstanding worth twelve thousand dollars?”
My chest tightened.
Dad stared at Mom.
“Twelve thousand?”
Mom shot Vanessa an furious look.
Vanessa pointed at me.
“She was going to find out eventually.”
“Find out what?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
Dad’s voice lowered.
“Linda.”
Mom closed her eyes briefly.
Then she walked to the dining table and sat down.
“A few months ago, Vanessa needed money.”
“For what?” Dad asked.
Vanessa muttered, “A business opportunity.”
Dad looked at her.
“What business?”
No answer.
Mom rushed in.
“She had a chance to invest in an online boutique with a friend.”
I almost laughed.
Vanessa had never worked more than three consecutive months at any job.
Dad shook his head.
“And you gave her twelve thousand dollars?”
Mom stared at the table.
“It wasn’t exactly ours.”
Something cold moved through me.
Dad must have felt it too.
“Whose was it?”
Mom looked at me.
That was the moment I knew.
My graduation savings account.
Dad and I had opened it when I was sixteen.
Birthday money.
Scholarship refunds.
Part-time job savings.
Anything I didn’t need immediately went there.
I had used some for tuition and my dress, but there should still have been almost fourteen thousand dollars remaining.
Money I planned to use when I moved for graduate school.
“No.”
I pulled out my phone.
My hands were trembling so badly I entered the banking password wrong twice.
Then the account loaded.
Balance: $1,846.
I stopped breathing.
My last memory of the balance was over $14,000.
I stared at Mom.
“You took my money?”
“Maya, I was going to replace it.”
My knees weakened.
Dad grabbed a chair for me.
“When?” I whispered.
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
“Before you moved.”
“You took twelve thousand dollars without asking me.”
“It was family money.”
“No.”
My voice finally rose.
“It was my money.”
Mom flinched.
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“I told her I’d pay it back.”
I looked at her.
“With what?”
“The business was supposed to take off.”
“What business?”
Vanessa looked away.
Dad pulled out his phone.
“I want the records.”
Mom stood.
“Michael—”
“The records.”
He sounded like a different man.
Mom began crying.
“You’re treating us like criminals.”
Dad looked at her.
“You removed twelve thousand dollars from an account with Maya’s name on it without telling her.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“She is twenty-two years old.”
Dad pointed toward me.
“And that money belongs to her.”
I looked down at the transactions.
Several transfers.
$2,000.
$3,500.
$1,800.
$4,000.
There were smaller ones too.
Months of them.
And every time I had checked the account, I realized I had only looked at the savings figure displayed on the banking app linked to a second account.
Mom had known I rarely opened the old graduation account.
She had counted on it.
“Why?”
My voice cracked.
Mom stepped toward me.
“Maya, Vanessa was struggling.”
“So you stole from me?”
“Don’t use that word.”
“What word should I use?”
She stopped.
I had spent my whole life being told to share.
To understand.
To forgive.
Vanessa needed Mom’s attention because she was sensitive.
Vanessa needed the bigger bedroom because she had more clothes.
Vanessa needed the newer car because she drove farther.
Vanessa needed help with credit card debt because she had made mistakes.
Apparently Vanessa needed my future too.
Dad sat beside me.
“We’re going to the bank tomorrow.”
Mom stiffened.
“For what?”
“To find out exactly how those withdrawals were authorized.”
Mom’s face changed.
That frightened me even more.
“Dad?”
He looked at her carefully.
“Linda, did you sign Maya’s name?”
Mom said nothing.
Vanessa whispered, “Oh my God.”
I stared at my mother.
“Did you forge my signature?”
Mom began crying harder.
“I was trying to help both my daughters.”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“You helped her by taking from me.”
“Maya—”
“Stop.”
For once, Mom stopped.
I felt something inside me break.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
Like a thread finally snapping after being pulled for years.
Dad walked to the ruined dress and picked it up.
He folded the damaged fabric carefully.
Then he put it into a shopping bag.
Mom stared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping evidence.”
Vanessa scoffed.
“Evidence?”
Dad looked at her.
“You destroyed property intentionally.”
Her face went pale again.
“You wouldn’t call the police over a dress.”
Dad didn’t answer.
That scared her.
He turned to me.
“We’re still buying your dress.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t want anything.”
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
He picked up his keys again.
“But you are graduating Saturday.”
Then he looked at Mom.
“And nobody is taking that from her.”
We left.
This time nobody stopped us.
At the mall, I barely spoke.
Dad didn’t pressure me.
We walked through three stores until a saleswoman brought out a dark blue dress with simple sleeves and a fitted waist.
I almost refused to try it.
Then Dad said quietly, “Don’t let what they did choose what you remember.”
So I put it on.
When I stepped outside the fitting room, Dad smiled.
His eyes filled with tears.
“There she is.”
I looked in the mirror.
For the first time that night, I saw myself instead of what Vanessa had done to me.
I bought the dress.
When we returned home, three suitcases stood by the front door.
Vanessa sat beside them.
Mom was nowhere in sight.
Dad placed my new dress over his arm.
“Where is your mother?”
Vanessa looked toward the staircase.
“In your bedroom.”
Dad started upstairs.
But Vanessa caught my wrist.
“Maya.”
I pulled away.
She swallowed.
“You need to know something before he goes up there.”
I stared at her.
May you like
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“The twelve thousand wasn’t the only money Mom took from you.”
