She laughed. “Or what?”
His voice shook, but he didn’t stop.
“Or nothing,” he said. “That’s the point. You always do this because you think nobody will stop you.”
She opened her mouth, but he talked right over her.
“You mocked everything. You mocked Mom. You mocked Dad. You mocked me for sewing. You mocked her for wanting one normal night. You take and take and then act offended when anyone notices.”
I had never heard him talk like that.
Carla looked at me. “Are you going to let him speak to me this way?”
“Yes,” I said.
Then someone knocked on the door.
It was the attorney. And Tessa’s mom.
They had come straight from the school.
The attorney stepped inside and said, “Given tonight’s statements, and the concerns already on record, these children will not be left alone without support while the court reviews the guardianship and the funds.”
Carla just stared at him.
Tessa’s mom walked past her like she was a coat rack and looked at us.
“Go pack a bag,” she said.
So we did.
Three weeks later, Noah and I moved in with our aunt.
Two months after that, control of the money was taken away from Carla.
She fought it.
She lost.
And Noah?
One of the teachers had sent photos of the dress to a local arts director. That led to an invitation to a summer design program. He acted annoyed about it for a full day before I caught him smiling at the acceptance email when he thought nobody was looking.
The dress is still hanging in my closet.
Sometimes I touch the seams. The pockets. The faded pieces of denim that used to belong to Mom and now belong to one of the bravest nights of my life.
Carla wanted everyone to laugh when they saw what I was wearing.
