Chapter 3: The Restaurant Reckoning

Grandpa used to have it all together—pressed shirts at the diner, extra tips at the car wash. You could still see the old pride in how he combed his hair.

He took me to the town’s famous fish place—neon sign buzzing, parking lot full, the smell of fried catfish everywhere.

But we were late. The waitress apologized; the fish was gone. Grandpa tried to hide his disappointment, but I saw it.

Then we spotted my family.

They laughed around a table in the corner, plates stacked high with fish and fries. Aubrey waved her fork, telling a story. Dad clapped Caleb on the back, all big smiles.

The four of them looked like a perfect family, celebrating together. For a moment, I felt like I was watching a movie I’d never be cast in.

Not just Mom and Aubrey, but Dad and Caleb too—both of them had claimed to be too busy to see me.

The lie stung. I watched them toast, celebrating a life I’d never be part of.

My heart was already numb, so seeing them didn’t faze me.

I kept my face blank, refusing to let them see hurt. I’d run out of tears for these people.

But Grandpa’s face turned red with anger. He stomped over, tried to flip the table, but the marble top barely budged. A fork clattered to the floor. Everyone stared.

Dad pulled Grandpa aside: “It’s not what it looks like. We really were busy earlier. When we had time, we were going to bring Natalie and you too, but you left, didn’t you?”

His voice was smooth, practiced. He looked at me, daring me to call him out.

Mom looked wounded: “Natalie won’t accept us, doesn’t even want to live with us—what can we do?”

She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, shooting Aubrey a look. Aubrey lowered her eyes, playing the part.

Caleb glared at me like he wanted to throw me out.

His fists clenched, jaw locked. He said nothing, but his glare was a threat.

Mom came over, tried to take my hand: “Natalie, since you’re here, eat with us.”

Her fingers were cold and strange. The invitation was empty—a performance for the crowd.

But the only food left were scraps.

A few fries, a hush puppy, fish bones. The meal was over, and so was my welcome.

I pulled my hand away. “No thanks. I don’t like fish.”

Mom’s smile faltered, and Dad’s jaw ticked. I could feel the whole place watching, waiting for me to break.

Dad tried to smooth things over: “If you don’t like fish, that’s fine. Natalie, I got you an acceptance letter from Lakeview Academy, a really prestigious private school. It wasn’t easy. You should focus on your future. You and Aubrey will both go there, so mind your manners—don’t embarrass the family.”

He said it like I should be grateful. His eyes dared me to disagree.

Last time, I really was happy.

I carried the letter everywhere, showed it to everyone. It felt like a golden ticket.

That school was famous—unless you were rich or a straight-A student, you couldn’t get in.

I’d memorized the brochures, circled the campus online. It looked like a dream.

So I went.

And for a while, I thought maybe things would finally change.

But almost everyone there was a nightmare.

The hallways were full of perfect smiles and sharper words. I learned to keep my head down, my backpack zipped tight.

Cliques ruled everything. If you didn’t have the right name or sneakers, you were invisible—or worse.

Because of Aubrey’s rumors, everyone knew I’d grown up in foster care.

They called me "orph," "foster rat," snickering as I walked by. Notes in my locker: "Go back to your dumpster." Every day was a new humiliation.

They mocked everything—my awkward manners, my bad English, my thrift-store jeans and haircut—everything was a joke to them. Every insult felt like a brick in my backpack. I stopped looking people in the eye. I stopped looking in mirrors, too.

Aubrey even secretly took pictures of my plain underwear and posted them online for everyone to laugh at.

The picture showed up in a group chat, my name tagged in bold. Laughter and insults filled my phone until I wanted to throw it out the window.

Some girls held me down and yanked at my clothes to show everyone my underwear…

I tried to fight them, nails scratching, but there were too many. Their laughter echoed in the tiled bathroom, too loud to forget.

With that happening every day, I couldn’t study at all.

My grades dropped. Teachers looked disappointed, but no one asked why.

When I found out Aubrey was behind it, I slapped her.

My palm stung, but it felt good. Her shock was real for once—eyes wide, cheeks pink. For a second, I had power.

She ran home, eyes red, and tattled.

She slammed the door, fake tears streaming. "Natalie hit me," she wailed for everyone to hear.

Seeing the handprint on her face, my family lost it.

Mom gasped. Dad balled his fists. Caleb was on his feet, ready to judge.

They wouldn’t let me explain.

My words drowned in their outrage. Aubrey buried her face in Mom’s chest, milking the moment. She’d always been able to turn on the tears, and everyone fell for it. I used to wish I could do the same.

Mom tore into me: “How could I have raised such a cruel kid? If I’d known, I never would’ve brought you back!”

Her words were sharp as glass. I flinched, every accusation cutting deeper.

Dad and Caleb both hit me—one slapped, the other kicked, over and over.

The blows blurred, pain spreading through me. When they finished, I was left gasping, too numb to cry.

That was the second time I got beaten after coming home.

The bruises faded, but the lesson didn’t. In this family, there was only room for one daughter.

“What, just because you got into Lakeview, you think you’re hot stuff?” Caleb sneered, snapping me out of my memories.

His voice dripped sarcasm. He leaned back, arms crossed, daring me to answer.

I didn’t look at him. I said to Dad, “No thanks. I’ll go to Maple Heights High.”

My words were steady, the first stone in a new path.

Dad and Caleb stared, stunned.

The shock on their faces was almost funny. For once, I’d surprised them.

Mom looked like she couldn’t believe it.

She blinked, mouth opening and closing, searching for a way to spin this.

Dad frowned: “Growing up in foster care made you short-sighted, Natalie. Let me tell you, Lakeview is—”

He started to lecture, but I’d already tuned him out.

I cut him off: “I’m going to Maple Heights High!”

I wanted them to know—I wasn’t their charity case anymore. My voice was loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear. A couple at a nearby table looked over, curious.

Maple Heights High was a public school, all merit. Their teaching was even better than Lakeview’s.

The marching band played at football games. The science labs actually worked. I’d read about their AP programs—I knew I’d do well there.

I’d always wanted to change my fate through hard work, so my grades were good.

Late nights under the covers, memorizing facts like spells that might save me.

But last time, my longing for family led me down a dead end.

The truth was ugly, but it set me free. I wasn’t begging for scraps of love anymore.

This time, I wouldn’t make that mistake. I’d trust myself and my studies.

With my grades, I could get into Maple Heights High.

I’d checked the requirements. If I worked hard, I could walk those halls with my head up.

Dad, Mom, and Caleb looked at me with mixed expressions.

Confusion, maybe a flicker of respect—or was it fear they were losing control?

The room went silent.

For a moment, it was just me and my choice.

Noticing the attention, Aubrey started to cry: “Sis, do you hate me? You don’t want to see me, that’s why you won’t eat with us, won’t live with us, and won’t go to the same school? Then I’ll move out. Once I’m gone, Grandpa and Natalie can come live at home…”

Her voice trembled, the tears flowing. She clung to Mom, face buried in her sleeve.

The second she started crying, Dad, Mom, and Caleb ignored me and rushed to comfort her.

They hovered around Aubrey, whispering to her. I slipped away, unnoticed, the outsider again.

I took Grandpa and left the restaurant.

He didn’t say a word, just gave my shoulder a squeeze, rough but gentle. For the first time, I felt like someone was on my side.

We walked out together, the stars bright and cold overhead.