Chapter 3: The Opportunity She Tried to Bury
Dad unfolded the letter completely.
“‘Dear Emma, we are delighted to offer you admission with the Eleanor Price Scholarship,’” he read.
His voice caught.
“‘This award covers full tuition for four years.’”
I dropped the pieces of my gown.
“A full scholarship?”
My stepmother, Celeste, folded her arms.
“The deadline has passed.
Reading it now changes nothing.”
Dad stared at her.
“Why would you hide this from my daughter?”
“Because Madison applied there too.”
Madison backed against her dresser.
“Mom, don’t drag me into this.”
“You knew,” I said.
“You looked me in the face and told me I had been rejected.”
Madison lifted her chin.
“You were always bragging about your grades.”
“I never bragged.”
“You didn’t have to.
Every teacher did it for you.”
Dad placed the letter on the bed.
“That does not explain the missing graduation money.”
Celeste stepped between him and Madison.
“I moved it somewhere safe.”
“Then give it back,” I said.
“You live under my roof, Emma.
The money spent on food, electricity, and clothes did not fall from the sky.”
Dad’s face hardened.
“Her grandmother gave her that money.
It was not household money.”
Celeste pointed at him.
“And who has kept this family functioning while you worked late every night?
Who took Madison and Emma to appointments?
Who paid bills when you forgot?”
“You paid Madison’s shopping bills,” I said.
“You charged me for school lunches.”
“That is enough.”
“No,” Dad said.
“It isn’t nearly enough.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed the admissions office.
Celeste’s hand shot toward it, but he turned away.
A woman answered after three rings.
“My name is Daniel Carter,” Dad said.
“I’m calling about my daughter, Emma Carter.
We just found an acceptance letter that was deliberately withheld.”
There was a pause.
“Mr.
Carter,” the woman said, “I need Emma’s permission to discuss her application.”
Dad handed me the phone.
“This is Emma.”
The woman’s voice softened.
“Emma, I’m Dr.
Helen Morris, director of admissions.
We have been trying to reach you.”
“I never received anything.”
“We sent two letters and three emails.”
“My password stopped working last month.”
Celeste looked toward the door.
Dr.
Morris continued, “Your school counselor contacted us yesterday.
She said your silence was out of character.”
“Is the scholarship gone?”
“The acceptance deadline is five o’clock today.”
I checked the time.
It was 4:37.
“What do I have to do?”
“I can verify your identity and record your acceptance by phone.
We can replace the paperwork afterward.”
Celeste shook her head fiercely.
“Do not commit to something you haven’t discussed with this family.”
Dad faced her.
“She earned it.
There is nothing to discuss.”
I answered the security questions while Madison watched her mother.
At 4:44, Dr.
Morris confirmed my place.
“You are officially a member of the incoming class,” she said.
My knees nearly gave way.
Dad caught my elbow.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Celeste gave a cold laugh.
“Congratulations.
Now ask where she will live, what she will eat, and who will pay for everything the scholarship does not cover.”
“We’ll manage,” Dad said.
“With what?” Celeste asked.
“Your savings?”
Dad became still.
He opened the banking app on his phone.
His thumb moved once, then stopped.
“What is it?” I asked.
He turned the screen toward Celeste.
The account that had held my late mother’s education fund showed a balance of eleven dollars and fourteen cents.
Dad looked at his wife.
“Where is the rest of Emma’s money?”
Celeste did not answer.
May you like
Madison did.
“Ask Mom what she bought three weeks ago.”
