Chapter 5: Secrets and Sacrifice

We swapped stories at lunch, comparing step-parents like baseball cards. I realized my family wasn’t as strange as I thought. For a moment, I felt less alone.

"My stepmom’s alright—mainly because she can’t have kids."

"Mine isn’t great. Only when Grandma’s home does she cook anything good."

"You guys are lucky. When my mom wanted to remarry, I acted out every day. Now she doesn’t dare."

Classmates shared all kinds of stories. The consensus: step-parents are never as good as real ones. We laughed about it, but underneath, I knew we were all searching for the same thing—someone to call family.

One day, school let out early for a tornado warning. I rushed home and found Linda and Dad eating leftovers. The sky was dark—classic Midwest weather—sirens blaring in the distance. I burst through the door, soaked from the rain.

"Why are you back?"

She was surprised, wiping her hands on a dish towel, eyes wide. Dad looked up, mouth full of potato salad.

"School let out early."

There were only last night’s leftovers on the table, and Linda was eating half a hard-boiled egg. I recognized it—it was the one I’d eaten that morning, yolk scooped out, just the white left. Did they always eat like this?

I stared at the plate, realization dawning. They’d been saving the best for me, eating scraps so I could have more.

I froze. Linda thought I was hungry and handed me money. She pressed a crumpled bill into my hand, her face worried.

"Haven’t eaten yet? Here, grab some noodles at the diner."

"No, I already ate at school."

A thousand questions stuck in my throat, killing my appetite. I mumbled an excuse and retreated to my room, suddenly ashamed of every harsh word I’d ever said.

Back in my room, I remembered my classmates’ stories. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine what it was like for Linda—always trying, never quite enough. I let go of some resentment toward Linda. Though I couldn’t help feeling jealous and uneasy about Ben.

A person can pretend for a while, but not forever.

I wondered how long Linda would keep trying, if she’d ever give up on me.

To this day, I can’t say all stepmoms are bad. Maybe I really got lucky. I started to see her not as a villain, but as someone who’d chosen to stay, even when she didn’t have to. That realization hit me hard.

Time flew by. Three years later, as the SATs approached, I faced a dilemma. With my grades, the city’s top high school was the best choice, but it was almost a hundred miles away—commuting was impossible. Someone would have to go with me.

The pressure was on. Teachers, counselors, even Dad—everyone expected me to aim high. But the thought of leaving home, of being alone, terrified me. My stomach twisted every time someone brought it up.

"Jamie, your teacher called and said you’re the only one who hasn’t filled out the application."

Dad brought it up over the weekend, sitting across from me at the kitchen table, application in hand, his face serious.

"Let’s talk about it."

"What, are you scared you won’t get in?"

Dad didn’t know much about my grades, but he knew City High’s reputation. He tried to joke, but I could hear the worry underneath. I looked away, picking at my nails.

"I want to go to the affiliated high school. It’s closer to home."

Most kids at the affiliated school had failed the entrance exam. Compared to City High, it was a big step down. The affiliated high school was fine, but it wasn’t where I belonged. Still, the idea of being alone in a new city made my stomach twist.

"It’s close, but with your grades, it’s a waste."

Dad looked regretful but didn’t push me. After all, I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was already taller than Linda. He sighed, rubbing his temples. I could tell he wanted more for me, but he let it go. I felt both relieved and guilty.

...

Monday morning, as I brushed my teeth, Linda rushed in, hair still in rollers, clutching her phone. Her eyes were wild with worry.

"Are you really applying to the affiliated school?"

She was anxious, just finding out. She waved the application at me, her voice sharp. I nodded, confused, not meeting her eyes.

To me, it seemed like the only choice. But Linda saw right through me.

"I checked. Once you submit, it’s final. Even if your grades are great, you can’t go to City High."

She knew more than Dad. Linda was truly upset, poking my forehead. Her finger left a little red mark. I could see tears threatening in her eyes.

"Why? You’re throwing away your future!"

She was so mad she stomped her foot. Her voice cracked. I’d never seen her so worked up over me before.

"I hate boarding. There’s no one to go with me. How can I go to City High?"

Why make me say it out loud? I looked at the floor, cheeks burning. I felt small, childish, but I couldn’t help it.

Not wanting to argue, I left without breakfast, grabbing my backpack and slamming the door.

"Don’t go."

She grabbed my backpack, found the application Dad had signed, and tore it up. The sound of paper ripping was like a gunshot. I stared at her, stunned, my heart pounding.

"What are you doing!"

My voice shook. I couldn’t believe she’d crossed that line.

"This isn’t just your business. You can’t decide alone."

She sat at the table, blocking the door, arms folded, daring me to challenge her. I’d never seen her so stubborn.

"How is it not my business? You’re not my real mom. Where I go to school isn’t your concern!"

Her actions set me off. My words were cruel, but I meant every one. I wanted to hurt her, to make her feel how alone I felt.