Chapter 1
"Who do you want to live with, Mom or Dad?" In my old life, I'd chosen Mom.
Dad was better off financially, so my sister Mindy Fester would have an easier life with him.
Later, Mom married a tycoon and took me overseas. Under my stepfather's guidance, I took up figure skating. At eighteen, I stepped onto the world championship ice, and became the first skater of mixed eastern heritage to claim gold in women's singles.
But this time, Mindy beat me to it. "I want to stay with Mom."
*****
"What about you? Are you okay with this?" Mom asked. I looked straight into her eyes.
"Yes. I'll live with Dad," I said.
The judge glanced at me again, probably thinking Mindy and I were way too mature for our age, but didn't say anything and kept going with the paperwork.
Mom's eyes clouded over. She probably thought I'd choose her, after all, I did in my old life. She pulled me into a hug, then ran her hand through Mindy's hair.
Mindy nestled obediently in Mom's arms, but her eyes looked past Mom's shoulder and found mine.
Her eyes said so much in that moment.
That was way too mature for an eight-year-old.
Guess Mindy got a second chance, too.
That realization settled in, slow and steady, like a nail quietly pressing into my mind.
But why did she have to jump ahead? Well, one turn each, guess that was fair.
In my old life, Mom married a wealthy businessman. My stepdad treated me like his own, and I had a smooth ride in figure skating, becoming a global champion at eighteen. Honestly, that kind of life was hard to resist.
I didn't want to judge Mindy harshly. I understood her.
I really did.
But still, her look poked at something deep inside me.
The wind was strong outside the courthouse, but the rain had finally let up. Dad walked over with an umbrella, bent down to look at me, and said, "Let's go."
His tone wasn't gentle. Actually, it was a little stiff. Dad was never good at showing his feelings.
In my old life, he sent me a birthday present every year. There was always a card in the box with only two words: [Happy Birthday.] Even the punctuation was perfectly proper.
I stood up and followed him, stepping into the rain.
The car was a black Volkswagen, understated, spotless, the seats were bare, nothing fancy. As Dad started the engine, I caught a glimpse of his profile.
He looked younger than I remembered, no gray at his temples yet, his jaw was set, as if he were grinding his teeth.
It wasn't that he didn't love us. He simply didn't know how.
Mindy once told me that after Mom and Dad split, Dad barely said a word. Then he remarried, and the house grew colder and colder. Mindy said, "That place was like an icebox." Eventually, even that coldness disappeared, and Dad was left all by himself.
As the car pulled out of the courthouse parking lot, I caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror of Mom holding Mindy's hand, waiting for a cab at the entrance.
Mom's grip was tight around Mindy's hand, and Mindy's face was so small, her bangs plastered to her forehead by the rain. She didn't look at me.
I didn't look at her either.
Dad's new place was in Newford, a three-bedroom apartment near downtown. It wasn't big, but it was spotless.
There was a painting hanging on the wall, a coffee set on the table, and the whole place was done up in muted gray, white, and natural wood tones. The quiet was almost too much, bordering on empty.
My room faced south, so sunlight poured in. On the desk, a new lamp and fresh stationery were already laid out, Grandma had thought of everything, not Dad. He probably never even considered those little touches.
The first week after moving in was quiet and ordinary.
Dad left early and came home late. I spent my days at my new school, walked home alone, did my homework, read a little, and went to bed at the usual hour.
Nobody looked over my homework, and nobody asked how my day went at school. The fridge was always stocked with pre-made meals, wrapped in plastic. Heat them up in the microwave, and dinner was done.
Guess this was the kind of life Mindy had in my old life.
Suddenly, it hit me why she ended up so tough.