Chapter 4

The next day, after closing up shop, Dad pulled the shutter halfway down and set the yellow timesheet ledger right in the middle of the table.

Mom sat next to him, while Alex was spinning around in the brand-new office chair, testing out the backrest.

Dad was the first to speak. "Emily, out of state is too far. We don't agree with you going.

"The delivery contract lasts a whole year, and September is when things get crazy. Stay and help out at the shop for a year. You can reapply to college next year."

"I can't hold my spot for a year," I replied.

"Then go to a local school." Mom slid a few college brochures over to me. "This vocational college is only two bus stops away, and the tuition's cheap.

"You could go to class in the morning and come back to help out in the afternoon. Isn't that ideal?"

I didn't touch the brochures. "Why didn't you ask me when you signed the contract?"

Dad's face darkened. "The shop gives you food and a place to stay. Is it such a big deal for you to help out for a year? We've busted our backs for so many years; wasn't it all for you and Alex?"

"Then can my name be written in the timesheet ledger?" I asked.

The room went dead quiet.

Alex stopped spinning in his chair, like he couldn't believe I was asking for this.

Mom was the first to react. "Why are you bringing up money again? Talking about pay makes things awkward between family."

"I'm not asking for anything from before. Start counting my hours from today," I said.

Dad stared at me for a few seconds, then shoved the timesheet ledger further away. "If you want to be an employee, then don't call yourself our daughter.

"Employees can clock out and leave, but a daughter, can she stand by and watch her parents run themselves into the ground?"

The burn scar on my palm turned white as I pressed my nails into it.

Before I came here, I thought if they said, "Go to school," I could help them find someone to take over the delivery contract and organize all the records for them.

But Dad only offered me two roles. One was the daughter, no paycheck, no escape. The other was the employee, who did her shift and walked away.

Neither role came with the desk I wanted.

My phone buzzed. Linda Smith from work-study messaged me, asking if I could get to school by the twenty-fifth.

I replied right in front of them: [Yes, I can.]

Mom reached for my phone. "Why did you say yes? Tell your teacher you can't go; we've got things to deal with at home."

I slipped my phone into my pocket. "I've already bought my train ticket; it's for 9:40 tonight."

Alex shot to his feet. "Tonight? Then who's going to make the filling tomorrow morning?"

Dad snorted, a cold smile on his face. "Let her go. She doesn't have any money; she'll be back as soon as she gets to the station."

Mom didn't get up, only slid the contract over to me. "Stop being so stubborn. Write up the prep list for the six hundred pie deliveries, and when you're done throwing a fit, go home and get some sleep."

I took the faded apron down from the wall. The straps still had the stitches Mom put in for me six years ago. Back then, she promised she'd make me a new one once I got taller.

I folded the apron into a neat square and set it beside the yellow timesheet ledger.

Then I reached down to the bottom shelf of the metal cabinet and pulled out the folder with my admission papers and my ID.

Six old order books were still lined up neatly in the cabinet. They held all the orders, refunds, and credit records from all these years, and every morning I'd kept the shop running for them since I was twelve.

As I walked under the rolling shutter, Dad called out from behind me. "Be here by 3:30 tomorrow. We've got a huge delivery; don't be late."

I ducked under the shutter and stepped outside.

The shutter slowly came down behind me. A corner of my apron caught the breeze and ended up covering Alex's name in the yellow timesheet ledger.

At 9:28 that night, I checked my ticket and walked into the station.

As the announcement urged passengers to board, I glanced back. The waiting hall was crowded with people, but no one came after me.

Dad was probably still waiting for me to say sorry.

Mom might've left the door unlocked, thinking I'd wander around and, like always, show up before 3:30 AM.

At 9:40, the train pulled out right on time.

The platform slowly slipped away. I sat by the window, watching the familiar lights get swallowed up by the night until I couldn't tell which one was the way home anymore.

At 3:20 in the morning, Mom knocked on my door like she always did.

There was no answer.

She knocked twice more, then opened the door. The bed was neatly made; my usual backpack and a couple of sets of clothes were missing. My desk was bare, and the folder with my admission papers was gone.

Mom stood in the doorway for a few seconds, stunned, then turned and woke Dad up.