Chapter 5: Emily Walks Away

Mrs. Carter ran over and grabbed my suitcase, but her tone was full of reproach.

She had one hand white-knuckled on the handle, the other tugging at her pearl necklace. "It's so late, you don't have any other family. Where could you possibly go? What's wrong with you, is this worth it over such a small thing?"

Rachel's biological mother was unmarried and pregnant back then. After I was switched with Rachel, she couldn't afford to raise me and left me at the door of a thrift shop. I was picked up and raised by Grandma Carol, who collected cans and old newspapers for a living.

She’d drag me along to the recycling center every Saturday, and afterward we’d split a slice of gas station pizza. I remembered the flicker of neon from the thrift store sign, the scratchy thrift store blanket that smelled of lavender and old coins. Grandma Carol was wiry and tough, her hands calloused but always gentle with me. But Grandma Carol passed away when I was in my first year of high school.

The memory was a hollow ache. "It is worth it." I looked at the Carter family, my tone calm. "I really don't have any other relatives, and yes, I long for family, but I'm not stupid."

Since I was little, I collected cans with Grandma Carol, and started supporting myself at thirteen.

I realized early on that in this world, only I am required to love myself, to fiercely defend my own interests, and to be responsible for my own life.

The Carter porch light buzzed above us, casting halos on their worried faces. Do you remember what I said when I first arrived? When kids can't get along, it's because the parents dropped the ball.

Of course, you can favor the child you raised, but as parents, you should at least maintain basic fairness.

But clearly, you haven't. That means things like today will keep happening.

And I'll keep facing situations where I'm right, but still have to swallow my pride.

When you found me, you should've already known that my grades are excellent. The school waives my tuition and boarding fees. I can fix computers, and I have a TikTok account with over 200,000 followers. Mostly tech hacks and thrift store hauls—stuff people actually watch.

I half-smiled, watching their surprise at the mention of social media. The world had changed, even if their values hadn't caught up. "Even if I'm not rich, I am fully capable of supporting myself. I'll get into a good college in the future. I don't need your support."

I came back because I had hopes for family and home.

"But since I know there's no place for me here, and I can't even get basic respect or fair treatment, why should I stay?"

With that, I yanked my suitcase from Mrs. Carter's hand and walked away without looking back.

The night was thick and cool, the air humming with the distant sound of cicadas. You can't get an Uber in this gated neighborhood, so I could only ride my bike, following Google Maps.

The tires crunched over gravel as I pedaled into the night, the sky above me wide and black. Each step down the driveway felt heavier than the last, but I kept my chin up. I’d survived worse. I don't know how long I rode before a black Tesla suddenly blocked my path.

The street was empty except for the glow of porch lights and the distant hum of sprinklers. Its headlights caught me like a deer. I skidded to a stop, my heart thumping in my ears. Just as I was about to back up and go around, Mr. Carter and Matthew got out of the car.

Mr. Carter stood in front of me for a long moment, then finally sighed—like he'd surrendered—and said to Matthew:

"Matt, apologize to your sister."

His words settled on the night air, soft but clear. For the first time, I felt maybe—just maybe—someone was listening.

Matthew shifted his weight from foot to foot, eyes fixed on the pavement, his shoulders hunched. The apology hovered in the air, uncertain, but the moment held a promise that things could change.