The day the SAT scores came out, my mother took me to the city where my father worked.
She walked into his office practically glowing.
"Rachel Barnes scored a 678. I heard that family members of Whitmore faculty can apply for a special—"
"Melanie Shepherd."
He cut her off, cold.
"The SATs are about fairness. If Rachel wants into Whitmore, she earns it herself."
"You can't use the fact that I'm a professor here to pull strings and hand her a shortcut."
My mother froze.
The eyes that turned toward us at the sound burned the color into her face.
I stood behind her and caught sight of the form lying on his desk. A special-admissions application.
The name line read Viola Dickerson, in my father's handwriting.
Viola was the daughter of my father's first love.
My mother saw it too.
Her lips moved. She forced out a thin smile.
"Let's talk about it at home."
He suddenly stood and caught her hand.
"Wait."
Under the hope in her eyes, he spoke slowly.
"Sarah Dickerson and Vi are staying at my place these few days. It's not convenient for you to come."
"Take Rachel and check into a hotel."
The smile slid off my mother's face for good.
Without a word she pulled her arm out of his grip and led me away.
He sat back down at his desk as if nothing had happened.
Out in the hall, she took the divorce papers from her bag, the pages already yellowed at the edges.
Tears stood in her eyes, but her gaze only hardened.
...
We stood at the door of the city apartment.
She entered the code twice. The system blared an error both times.
On the third try.
"Door unlocked."
She didn't move.
The hand frozen in the air closed into a fist, the knuckles going faintly white.
"860205."
I saw it clearly.
That woman's birthday.
That number was a nightmare my mother and I shared.
February 5th, eight years ago.
My father was driving me and my mother, five months pregnant, to a prenatal checkup.
Then Sarah called, and he ordered us out of the car.
"Sarah's got an emergency. I have to go to her."
The moment he started the engine, the clear sky broke open into pouring rain.
My mother ran after him, calling his name.
"Gav! It's raining! At least drop us at the hospital first!"
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
The car didn't stop. It only sped up.
Then a car came tearing down the road, jumped the curb, and my right leg was dragged under the wheel.
I lay on the ground and watched my mother thrown into the air, then slammed back down onto the pavement.
That day my mother lost the baby inside her.
And I lost my right leg.
And Sarah's so-called emergency was nothing more than wanting my father to spend her birthday with her.
The door was suddenly yanked open. Sarah's voice came simpering through.
"Gav, why aren't you coming in yet?"
She was wearing my mother's silk nightgown.
Our eyes met, and the smile vanished from Sarah's face.
"Melanie. What are you doing here?"
My mother let out a cold laugh.
"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"
She took my hand and walked past Sarah into the apartment.
On the wall above the couch, where the wedding photo used to hang, there was now a portrait of Sarah and her daughter.
The tablecloth my mother had chosen herself had been thrown on the floor like a rag.
We walked into the master bedroom.
Clothes were heaped all over the bay window seat, some my mother's, some Sarah's.
My mother pressed her lips together, turned, and walked toward my room.
The desk that used to be neat was now buried under cosmetics.
Someone had scrawled the word cripple across my photo on the headboard in lipstick, and blacked out my right leg.
Viola Dickerson was lying in my bed, one leg crossed over the other.
When she saw Mom and me, she froze for a second, then wrinkled her nose like she'd smelled something foul.
"The old hag and the little cripple?"
The words were barely out before Mom seized a fistful of her hair, dragged her off the bed, and hauled her toward the door.
"Mom! Help me!"
Viola shrieked in terror.
"Melanie! Let go of her! If Gavin finds out you laid a hand on Vi, he'll divorce you for sure!"
Sarah Dickerson rushed over, her long nails sinking into Mom's arm.
Blood welled up at once.
I lunged forward and tore Sarah's hand away.
Viola took the opening and kicked the prosthetic on my right leg. I lost my balance and slammed hard into the coffee table.
Glass shattered, the sound cracking through the air.
"Rae!"
Mom's hand came up and a single slap sent Viola sprawling to the floor.
"Melanie!"
Gavin's furious shout came from the doorway.
Blood blurred my eyes.
Mom saw the slivers of glass buried in my forehead, and her voice shook.
"Gavin! Rae's hurt, she needs a hospital, get over here and pick her up!"
When Gavin didn't move, she whipped her head around.
All she caught was the sight of his back as he carried Viola out, and Sarah glancing over her shoulder with a taunting smile.
Mom's tears fell onto my face.
"Rae, don't be scared. Mommy's taking you to the hospital."
A bandage was wound around my forehead. I sat on a bench in the corridor.
The doctor shook his head at Mom.
"We're short on beds. There's honestly nothing free for your daughter right now. Take her home and keep an eye on her for now."
Mom called Gavin three times in a row. No one picked up.
When the fourth call finally connected, it was Sarah's irritated voice on the other end.
"Melanie, can you stop calling? Gavin doesn't have time for you. He's busy comforting Vi. Take that crippled daughter of yours and crawl back to your hometown."
She said it without a shred of doubt, as if she and Viola were the wife and daughter.
The call cut off.
Mom was shaking with rage.
Then she spotted Gavin standing there, a payment slip in his hand.
When he saw her coming, he stiffened, and something annoyed flickered in his eyes.
"What are you chasing me to the hospital for? Haven't you caused enough of a scene at home?"
He didn't see the wounds on Mom's arm. He didn't see me beside her, my head wrapped in bandages.
Mom drew a deep breath, her grip tightening on her phone.
"Rae's hurt and there's no ward available. I remember you have a friend who's a doctor here. Can you ask him to help?"
His gaze swept across my face, then his expression turned reluctant.
"You know I hate pulling strings. If I ask him for a favor today, I'll owe him one down the line."
Mom's lips parted. She was about to speak.
A man in a white coat strode over and dropped a hand on Gavin's shoulder.
"Gav, that ward you wanted is all set. You said you'd tutor my daughter, no taking it back now."
His eyes moved to Mom and me.
"You must be Gav's wife and daughter. You wouldn't believe it, this man hates asking anyone for anything. Never thought he'd come to me for his wife and kid."
"The bed should be just about ready. Go get her checked in before it's gone."
With that, he gave us a smile, turned, and left.
Gavin's face soured.
"Vi has her interview the day after tomorrow. She needs to be at her best, and that slap of yours was too hard. She's still complaining about feeling dizzy."
"Melanie, everything I'm doing is to clean up after you."
He walked over to where I sat and crouched down in front of me.
"Rae, go home and rest. Once things settle down for me, I'll come see you. All right?"
"Home, as in the New York house?"
He froze for a second, then shot back at once.
"No. That's where Sarah and Viola live."
Mom's mouth twisted.
"Gavin, between Viola and Rachel, which one is actually your daughter?"
"Don't think I don't know you gave the Whitmore faculty-family admissions slot to Viola. And now you want to hand our home over to those two as well?"
His eyes went wide, his voice climbing high and sharp.
"What would you know? Viola has real promise. She just had one bad day on the SATs. She needs that slot more than Rachel does."
"You're calling a 364 a bad day?"
"Enough—"
He swiped at his phone a couple of times and held it up in front of her.
"I bought you two train tickets back to our hometown. They leave in two hours."
"Melanie, if you still want this family, stop fighting me."
Mom stared at his face for a few seconds.
Then she spoke, perfectly calm.
"Gavin, I don't want this family anymore."
His expression darkened.
A tired, tamped-down anger surfaced slowly in his eyes.
For as long as I could remember, he'd worn that exact look at Mom again and again.
From all their years of fighting, I'd pieced the old story together.
Sarah was Dad's first love.
His family was poor, so Sarah's parents broke the two of them apart.
Sarah went on to marry a wealthy businessman.
Heartbroken, Dad married Mom, who had loved him all along.
But the businessman turned out to be a fraud. He drank himself to death at home and left Sarah and her daughter buried in debt.
After her divorce, Sarah got back in touch with Dad.
That was the moment our happy home shattered.
After that, all that was left in the house was Dad's shouting and Mom's tears.
Until three years ago, when Dad got transferred to New York for work.
The fights grew rarer, but the marriage had long been hollow, two strangers under one roof.
Mom struggled through ten years of that marriage.
For herself, and for me.
"Melanie, don't say things you don't mean."
Dad dropped that line and walked out without looking back.
Mom turned away.
The tears she'd been holding back fell, one after another.
"Rae, if Mom leaves your dad, would you..."
Would I be upset...
"Mom."
I stood up and took her hand.
"All I want is for you to be happy. I'll always be your daughter."
When we came home again, Dad had already changed the front-door code from his phone.
Calm as anything, Mom picked up her phone and called a locksmith.
The house was in her name.
It was the inheritance her grandfather had left her.
She had the technician strip off the smart lock and install a new one.
She boxed up everything belonging to Sarah and Viola and had a courier run it to the hospital.
Every single thing in that house their hands had touched, the furniture included, went straight out the door.
Then she made a phone call.
"Hello, this is Melanie. Yes, I'm Marlin Shepherd's granddaughter. I'd like to ask about the special admissions slot at Whitmore University..."
Ten minutes later, Mom hung up.
A loose, easy look settled over her face for the first time in ages.
"Rae, get plenty of rest these next two days. You've got your Whitmore interview the day after tomorrow."
Late that night, I jolted awake to violent pounding at the door.
I strapped on my prosthetic and stepped out of my room.
Dad's face was livid.
"Melanie, do you have to take this to such an extreme? There's nothing going on between Sarah and me. I was only lending a hand to help them out."
