Chapter 2 - The Number on the Screen
"That's my number because I'm her mother," Patrice Bennett said.
She spoke as if that settled the matter.
It didn't.
"Why would my college portal need your number?" I asked.
"In case of emergencies."
"I didn't put it there."
Leah shut the folder.
"I can request an immediate security hold," she said.
"That will stop further changes while Northvale investigates, but it won't automatically restore the award."
The word automatically hit harder than I expected.
I had spent three years winning math competitions, finishing homework after midnight, and building a drainage model from scrap PVC because our neighborhood flooded every spring.
Now one morning's click had apparently undone all of it.
"What do you need from me?" I asked.
"A written statement, proof of identity, and any evidence that someone accessed your account without permission."
Mom laughed once.
"Evidence? In my own house?"
"Especially in your own house," Renee said.
My mother rounded on her sister.
"Easy for you to say. You don't have children."
"I have eyes," Renee replied.
"I've watched Zarya pack lunches for children she didn't give birth to since she was twelve."
From the hallway, eleven-year-old Lila whispered, "I can hear you."
Eight-year-old Jo clutched her stuffed rabbit against her face.
I crouched beside them.
"None of this is your fault."
Lila glanced at Mom.
"Are you still going away?"
"I'm trying to."
"But Mom said you told the school no."
Silence swallowed the room.
Mom reached for Lila.
"Honey, go upstairs."
"When did she tell you that?" I asked.
"At breakfast," Lila said.
"She said the college was handled and you could take us to Aunt Sheryl's wedding next month."
Mom's jaw tightened.
Leah offered to meet me at the high school counselor's office the following morning.
Before she left, she handed me a printed copy of the withdrawal message.
It began: I have decided my family needs me at home more than the university does.
May you like
Those were my mother's words.
Word for word.
