“They can’t stay in the closet forever.”
My stepsister’s door opened as I passed. She was wearing one of my hoodies.
“Oh,” Brittany said. “I couldn’t find mine.”
I just looked at her.
She stretched. “You okay? You look like a ghost.”
“I’m fine.”
“Cool. Hey, is our laptop charged? I need it tonight.”
“It’s my laptop.”
“I couldn’t find mine.”
“It’s the shared one now.” She smiled as if she were doing me a favor. “Mom said so.”
I didn’t have the energy. I just walked into my room and closed the door.
My desk was exactly as I’d left it. Notebooks stacked, sticky tabs sorted by subject, a printout of the senior calendar taped to the wall. Graduation. Finals. College applications.
Dad’s dream for me, written on a wall in blue marker.
I didn’t have the energy.
I sat down and smoothed the note against the desk. Then I grabbed a piece of tape and pinned it to the corkboard above my study station, right where I’d see it every time I looked up.
“Okay, Dad,” I said out loud to nobody. “I’ll keep showing up.”
The music from Brittany’s room got louder, then cut off mid-chorus. I heard her laugh at something on her phone. Downstairs, Natalie taped up another box.
