Chapter 1: The Room That Was Mine
The first thing I saw when I reached the top of the stairs was my mother's photograph lying face-down on the hardwood floor.
I didn't know the frame was broken yet.
I didn't know my college letters were missing.
And I definitely didn't know that by dinner, my father would be holding a letter that would change everything we thought we knew about our house.
All I knew was that half my life was scattered across the hallway.
My clothes.
My books.
My backpack.
The old stuffed bear my mother had given me when I was six.
Even the little wooden jewelry box Dad had bought me after Mom died.
Everything had been dumped outside my bedroom like somebody was clearing out an abandoned apartment.
I stopped halfway down the hallway.
"What the hell?""
Then I heard music coming from my room.
My room.
I stepped over a pile of sweaters and pushed the door wider.
Brianna stood in front of my closet.
She was hanging up one of her dresses.
For a second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.
Brianna was my stepsister. She was seventeen, one year older than me, and she had been living in our house for almost four years since Dad married her mother, Denise.
Her bedroom was across the hall.
A perfectly normal bedroom.
Maybe a little smaller than mine, but not by much.
Yet there she was, moving her clothes into my closet.
"What are you doing?""
She glanced over her shoulder.
No surprise.
No embarrassment.
Just that little smile she used whenever she knew something I didn't.
"It's mine now.""
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the alternative was screaming.
"Get your stuff out.""
She turned back toward the closet.
"You should probably start moving yours downstairs.""
My stomach tightened.
"Downstairs where?""
"The basement.""
I stared at her.
Then Denise appeared in the doorway behind me.
She was wearing cream-colored pants and a fitted blouse, perfectly dressed like she always was, even though she'd apparently spent the afternoon throwing my belongings into a hallway.
"Brianna needs the bigger room," she said.
I slowly turned around.
"Excuse me?""
"You heard me.""
"This is my room.""
Denise crossed her arms.
"And this is our family home. Sometimes families make adjustments.""
I looked from her to Brianna.
"What adjustment? She already has a bedroom.""
"Brianna needs more space.""
"For what?""
Brianna smiled.
"My clothes.""
I almost couldn't believe she said it.
"You threw everything I own into the hallway because she has too many clothes?""
Denise's expression hardened.
"Watch your tone.""
There it was.
The sentence Denise used whenever she didn't have an actual answer.
I bent down and picked up my backpack.
Then I grabbed a stack of books.
"No.""
Denise blinked.
"What did you say?""
"I said no.""
I carried my things back into my room and placed them on the desk.
Brianna's smile disappeared.
"Maya.""
Denise said my name like a warning.
I ignored her and went back into the hallway.
"This was Mom's room for me.""
The words came out quieter than I intended.
Dad and Mom had bought this house when I was a baby. After Mom died, Dad never changed my room. He repainted it once, but the white bookshelf Mom had chosen was still against the wall. The small window seat where she used to read to me was still there.
It wasn't just a bigger room.
It was one of the few places where I could still remember her clearly.
Denise knew that.
Which made what she was doing worse.
I picked up another box.
Brianna suddenly stepped in front of me.
"You're making this dramatic.""
"Move.""
"It's a bedroom.""
"Then keep yours.""
Her eyes narrowed.
I stepped around her.
She grabbed the box.
"Give it back.""
"No.""
I pulled.
She pulled harder.
"Brianna!""
The cardboard tore.
Everything spilled.
A notebook hit the floor.
Several photographs slid underneath the dresser.
And the framed picture of Mom landed near Brianna's foot.
I froze.
It was my favorite picture.
Mom was sitting on the porch holding me when I was about five. I was laughing at something outside the camera while she kissed the top of my head.
I reached for it.
Brianna got there first.
She lifted the frame.
"Give me that.""
She looked at the picture.
Then at me.
"So this is the famous Saint Monica.""
"Don't.""
"I'm just saying. Everyone acts like she was perfect.""
My chest tightened.
"Brianna, give me the picture.""
"Maybe you should stop acting like she's still—"
I grabbed the frame.
She jerked it back.
"Let go!""
"No!""
We struggled for barely two seconds.
Then it slipped.
The frame hit the floor.
Crack.
The sound silenced the entire hallway.
I stared down.
A fracture ran across the glass over my mother's face.
Something inside me broke with it.
"That was my only copy.""
Brianna stepped backward.
For the first time, she looked nervous.
"I didn't—"
"That was my only picture of Mom!""
My voice cracked.
Denise immediately rushed forward.
Not toward me.
Toward Brianna.
She put an arm around her daughter.
"Maya, enough!""
I stared at her.
"Enough?""
"You were both pulling it.""
"Because she took it!""
"You need to calm down.""
I felt tears burning my eyes.
"She was mocking my mother.""
Brianna suddenly looked wounded.
"I wasn't mocking anyone.""
I laughed through my tears.
"You're unbelievable.""
Denise pointed toward the hallway.
"Take your things downstairs.""
I stared at her.
"I'm not moving.""
"Yes, you are.""
"No.""
Then Brianna spoke.
"Dad already agreed.""
My heart stopped.
"What?""
She walked to my desk and picked up a folded sheet of paper.
"James signed it.""
She handed it to me.
There was a short typed statement about changing bedrooms.
At the bottom was my father's name.
James Carter.
And beneath it, a signature.
For a second, I couldn't breathe.
Dad knew what this room meant to me.
He knew.
So why would he agree?
"When did he sign this?""
Denise answered quickly.
"This morning.""
"He left before seven.""
"We discussed it privately.""
I looked at the signature again.
Something felt wrong.
But my eyes were blurry with tears.
Brianna leaned against my dresser.
"Guess you're going to the basement.""
Then we heard it.
The garage door.
Denise's face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
Dad wasn't supposed to be home.
His footsteps came through the kitchen.
Then the stairs creaked.
"What happened up here?""
Nobody answered.
Dad appeared at the end of the hallway carrying his laptop bag.
His eyes moved from my belongings to my face.
Then to the broken photograph.
"Maya?""
I couldn't speak.
Brianna hurried forward.
"We're just switching rooms.""
Dad frowned.
"What?""
Denise stepped in.
"James, we can explain.""
Brianna handed him the paper.
"You already approved it.""
Dad took it.
He read the page.
Then he looked at the signature.
His face became very still.
"I approved this?""
Brianna's confidence faltered.
"That's your signature.""
Dad looked directly at Denise.
"No.""
The hallway went silent.
He lifted the paper.
"That isn't my signature.""
Denise went pale.
I looked at her.
Then Brianna.
Then back at Dad.
His eyes dropped to the broken frame.
He crouched and carefully picked it up.
When he saw Mom's picture behind the cracked glass, something changed in his expression.
Not anger.
Not yet.
Something colder.
"Who did this?""
I wiped my face.
"Brianna.""
"It was an accident!"" Brianna snapped.
"She grabbed Mom's picture and wouldn't give it back.""
Dad stood.
Denise immediately said, "James, the girls got into an argument.""
"They were forcing me into the basement.""
Dad looked at me.
Then at the boxes.
Then at my entire life sitting in the hallway.
His jaw tightened.
"No.""
Denise frowned.
"No what?""
Dad stepped beside me.
Protectively.
"They weren't.""
Brianna folded her arms.
"This is ridiculous.""
Dad ignored her.
He turned to me.
"Maya, put your things back.""
Denise stared at him.
"James—"
"Not another word.""
I'd almost never heard him speak to her like that.
Then I remembered something.
Something that suddenly felt connected.
"Dad.""
He looked at me.
"My college letters.""
"What about them?""
"They're gone.""
His expression changed again.
"I kept them in my desk.""
I opened the drawer.
Empty.
"I've been waiting for decisions from three schools. Everything disappeared.""
Brianna looked at Denise.
It was quick.
Less than a second.
But Dad saw it.
So did I.
Dad slowly turned toward them.
"What did you do?""
May you like
Neither answered.
And that was when I realized this had never been about a bedroom.
