Chapter 1 - The Morning My Future Disappeared
"If you take that scholarship, your sisters can explain to the babysitting families why nobody showed up."
My mother said it while I was scraping burnt pancakes off a skillet at 7:10 on a Friday morning. My acceptance letter was propped against the sugar jar. Across the top, in blue ink, were the words ASTER SCHOLARS AWARD: FOUR-YEAR FULL SCHOLARSHIP.
"They're your daughters," I said. "And I start college in August."
"They're your sisters, Zarya. You think that stops meaning something because a school offered you a fancy piece of paper?"
Cleo, eleven, went still at the table. Seven-year-old Maisie held her spoon halfway to her mouth. Mom worked receiving at a grocery warehouse outside Dayton. For six years I'd managed their homework, baths, meals, and the babysitting jobs Mom scheduled in my name. I was eighteen now, with a graduation gown hanging in my closet. I had earned Lakebridge University's award with a 4.0, a stack of late-night essays, and weekends cleaning tables at the Corner Spoon.
"I'll still be their sister," I said. "I just won't be their other parent."
Mom slapped the paper against the counter. "So you're leaving us with nothing."
"The scholarship pays tuition, housing, meals, books. It's the only way I can go without borrowing money."
"And who's paying rent while you're off finding yourself?"
A voice came from the open back door. "Zarya can stay with me until school starts."
Simone Reed stood on the porch, carrying the cardigan I'd mended for her. Our neighbor had watched me grow up and had never once asked me to prove I deserved a place at her table. Mom stared at her like she'd arrived with a wrecking ball.
"You don't get to interfere in my house, Simone."
"I'm offering a spare room, Dana. Not taking anyone's children."
I picked up my school folder. My fingers shook, but I didn't put it down. "I'll finish helping Cleo with her science project tonight. After that, I'm moving."
A car pulled into our driveway. A woman in a navy blazer stepped out beside Ms. Calder, my high school counselor. The visitor was Evelyn Ward, the Lakebridge admissions representative I'd been scheduled to meet for a scholarship profile interview.
She looked at the letter on our counter, then at me. Her smile faltered.
"Zarya, I'm glad I caught you. Before we take that photograph, I need to ask something uncomfortable. Our system received a formal withdrawal this morning. Your full scholarship has been canceled."
I stared at her. "I didn't withdraw."
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Ms. Ward glanced toward the laptop open on our dining-room table.
"Then someone signed into your student portal and did it for you."
