Chapter 4
I called the university before I called Mom.
My hands shook while I waited on hold.
Dad sat beside me in Grandpa’s kitchen.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, an admissions coordinator answered.
I gave my name and student number.
“I’m calling to confirm my enrollment.”
There was typing.
Then silence.
“Ms. Carter, our records show you declined the offer two weeks ago.”
My heart stopped.
“I did what?”
Dad leaned closer.
The woman continued carefully.
“We received a signed withdrawal form stating you had chosen another program.”
“I never sent that.”
More typing.
“The form was mailed.”
“Can you send me a copy?”
“Yes.”
My email chimed less than a minute later.
I opened the attachment.
There was my name.
My address.
My student ID.
And another fake signature.
Below it was a handwritten sentence.
Due to family circumstances, I will not be relocating.
I stopped breathing.
Dad took the phone from my hand.
His face hardened.
“Can this be reversed?”
The coordinator explained that the program was nearly full.
She would escalate it to the admissions director.
Because I claimed fraud, they could review the withdrawal.
But there were no guarantees.
When the call ended, I stared at the table.
Graduate school wasn’t just another plan.
I had worked four years for that acceptance.
It was the reason I had pushed through sleepless nights and double shifts.
And somebody had tried to erase it with one envelope.
Dad stood.
“We’re going home.”
This time I didn’t hesitate.
Mom opened the door before we knocked.
She looked terrible.
“Maya.”
I held up the printed withdrawal form.
“Did you send this?”
Her face collapsed.
Dad closed the door.
“Answer her.”
Mom began crying immediately.
“I was scared.”
I stared at her.
“That is not an answer.”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
Something inside me went numb.
“Why?”
She pressed both hands against her chest.
“Because you were moving six hours away.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“You stole my money and rejected graduate school for me because you didn’t want me to move?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
She reached toward me.
I stepped back.
“You don’t understand what happened after Vanessa moved out the first time.”
I frowned.
Vanessa had tried living with roommates at twenty-one.
She returned after three months.
“She stopped calling,” Mom continued. “She barely visited. I felt like I was losing my daughter.”
Dad stared at her.
“So you sabotaged the other one.”
“No!”
Mom looked at me desperately.
“I thought if you stayed another year, we could figure things out.”
“There was nothing to figure out.”
My voice cracked.
“It was my future.”
“You could apply again.”
The room went completely silent.
I think she knew immediately how terrible that sounded.
“You think four years of work is replaceable?”
“Maya—”
“You think my savings are replaceable. My scholarship is replaceable. My dress is replaceable. My graduate program is replaceable.”
I felt tears running down my face.
“Everything matters less to you if it belongs to me.”
Mom sank into a chair.
“That isn’t true.”
“Then why does everything Vanessa wants cost me something?”
She had no answer.
Dad walked toward the kitchen counter.
“I want your phone.”
Mom looked confused.
“What?”
“Your phone.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know whether there’s anything else.”
Mom stiffened.
That was enough.
Dad’s voice hardened.
“What else did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Linda.”
She grabbed her phone.
“I said nothing.”
Then the front door opened.
Vanessa walked in.
Mom jumped.
“What are you doing here?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Ashley kicked me out.”
Under any other circumstances, I might have felt sorry for her.
Then she held up an envelope.
“I found this in my luggage.”
Mom’s face turned white.
Vanessa noticed.
“What is it?”
Mom moved toward her.
“Give me that.”
Vanessa pulled it away.
“No.”
She opened the envelope.
Inside were several printed emails.
She scanned the first page.
Then she looked at Mom.
“Oh my God.”
My pulse raced.
“What?”
Vanessa handed me the papers.
They were emails between Mom and someone named Karen Bell.
The name looked familiar.
Then I remembered.
Karen worked in the financial aid office at my university.
The first email was from Mom.
I need Maya’s refund deposited into the account ending in 4821 because her current account is being closed.
Another requested copies of my financial aid documents.
Another asked how to change the mailing address connected to my student profile.
I looked at Mom.
“You contacted my university pretending to help me?”
“I was trying to manage things.”
“You were managing me.”
Vanessa read another page.
Then her face changed.
“Mom.”
Mom looked away.
Vanessa’s voice became very quiet.
“What is this?”
She handed me the last email.
It was dated six months earlier.
Before my graduate school application deadline.
Mom had written to an admissions contact asking whether family members could withdraw an application if the student was experiencing “emotional instability.”
My stomach twisted.
The reply clearly said no.
Only the student could make changes.
Mom had tried anyway.
Dad read the message over my shoulder.
I thought he might explode.
Instead, he looked completely broken.
“Who are you?”
Mom covered her mouth.
“I was afraid.”
Dad shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed at the papers.
“This is control.”
Mom cried harder.
Then Vanessa did something I never expected.
She stepped between us.
Not to defend Mom.
To face her.
“You used me.”
Mom stared at her.
“What?”
Vanessa’s voice shook.
“You kept telling me Maya thought she was better than us.”
I looked at Vanessa.
Mom whispered, “That’s not what I said.”
“You told me she would leave and forget us.”
Vanessa’s face crumpled.
“You told me Dad loved her more because she was successful.”
My chest tightened.
For years Vanessa and I had competed without ever remembering when the competition started.
Now I was beginning to understand.
Mom had always compared us.
Maya studies harder.
Vanessa is prettier.
Maya is responsible.
Vanessa is more social.
Vanessa needs support.
Maya can handle herself.
Different weapons.
Same war.
Dad sat heavily in a chair.
Mom shook her head.
“I was trying to keep this family together.”
I looked at her.
“You kept us together by making us hurt each other.”
That sentence silenced everyone.
Then my phone rang.
The university.
I answered immediately.
The admissions director introduced herself.
She said they had reviewed my case.
Because the withdrawal appeared fraudulent and because my original acceptance had already been finalized, they were reinstating my seat.
I covered my mouth.
Dad stood.
“Is it good?”
I nodded through tears.
The director continued.
There was one problem.
The enrollment deposit was due by five o’clock the next afternoon.
I thanked her repeatedly.
When I hung up, Dad hugged me.
“You’re going.”
For the first time that day, I smiled.
Then Vanessa spoke.
“I’ll pay the deposit.”
I looked at her.
She swallowed.
“And I’ll start paying back everything else.”
Mom stared at her.
“Vanessa—”
“No.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“I helped create this mess.”
Her voice cracked.
“And for once, I’m not letting Mom rescue me from it.”
I wanted to believe her.
But trust didn’t come back because someone finally said the right words.
It had to be earned.
And the next morning, Vanessa would get her first chance.
May you like
Because the police wanted statements about the forged bank withdrawals.
From all three of us.
