Chapter 4 - The Signature That Wasn't Mine
Natasha emailed the form ten minutes later. It wasn't a simple calendar. It was a childcare agreement covering twelve weeks of evenings and weekends, signed Zarya Ellis in a looping script that looked like mine if you didn't know where I crossed the capital Z.
At the bottom was a deposit receipt for three hundred dollars, paid to Dana Ellis.
"You forged this," I said into my phone when Mom finally answered.
"Don't start throwing around words you don't understand."
"Natasha has a contract with my name on it. I didn't sign it."
"I filled out the paperwork because you were busy. You always babysit for her."
"Not in August. I'll be at school."
"We have bills. You know that."
The way she said it made money sound like a family member who had the right to vote on my future.
At Briarfield High, Ms. Calder let me sit in her office even though classes were over. I showed her the agreement, the message from Mom, and the withdrawal notice. She didn't promise a miracle.
"The childcare contract is a separate matter," she said. "But keep the original email from Natasha. Do not change the attachment. I'm helping you document a timeline, not proving a crime myself."
"Could Mom say I took the scholarship back?"
"She can say it. You can show that you didn't."
I signed the university's identity-dispute statement, changed every password I could remember, and replaced the recovery email on my account. Or tried to. The portal displayed a warning: Recovery email changes require confirmation from the current recovery address.
The address on the screen was my mother's.
I remembered setting up applications on our shared laptop in ninth grade. Mom had offered to manage the forms because she knew our tax information. I'd thanked her. After that, the account had grown into the place where every important decision about my future was stored.
Ms. Calder leaned over my shoulder. "Don't click anything else. Let the university's security team handle the recovery address."
May you like
My phone rang. It was Cleo, whispering.
"Zee, Mom says she isn't picking us up after school anymore unless you come home. What are we supposed to do?"
