Chapter 1

At the freshman orientation party, Olivia Grant pointed at me and burst out laughing. "Did you guys know? She's been freeloading off Daniel's family for ten years."

The entire room erupted in laughter.

Daniel frowned and turned to me. "Don't overthink it. It was a joke."

I looked at him and suddenly smiled.

Then I stood up, walked out of the room, and dialed a number that had been saved in my phone for ten years but never once called. "Grandpa, I want to go home."

That night, the Reed residence was brightly lit.

Daniel's father, Gordon Reed, slumped on the couch, staring at his phone as his face turned pale.

Every penny in their family accounts was gone overnight.

*****

The stage lights hit my face, making me squint.

At the freshman orientation party, Daniel, as a student council representative, was sitting in the front row, with Olivia beside him.

Olivia was the prettiest girl in our class. She had gotten close to Daniel during the summer camp. She had a stunning face, with her lips always tilted upward, like she was better than everyone around her.

I sat in the third row, by the aisle.

I hadn't meant to draw anyone's attention, but Olivia's gaze swept over and landed on me.

She suddenly leaned into the microphone. "Wait a minute. Before the show starts, I want to share something interesting with you guys."

The host paused for a moment, then stepped back.

Olivia stood up and glanced back at Daniel.

He didn't react and kept looking at his phone.

"Did you know?" She raised her hand, her glittery manicure catching the light, and pointed her index finger straight at me. "Nicole is very special."

The whole room went quiet. Everyone followed her finger and turned toward me.

My stomach tightened.

"She's been freeloading off Daniel's family for ten years." Olivia's voice was crisp, like a slap on my face.

"Ten years. She's been freeloading every single day." She tilted her head, like she was sharing juicy gossip. "I'm curious. How do you not feel a little bad about it?"

Laughter started in the front row and spread. It began in scattered bursts, then grew louder and louder until it filled the entire room.

Some people covered their mouths as they laughed. Others slapped their tables. A few pulled out their phones and started recording me.

My nails dug into my palm. A sharp pain shot through my fingertips.

I turned to look at Daniel.

He finally put down his phone and frowned. "Olivia, stop it."

His voice was soft, like he was gently scolding a girlfriend who was throwing a tantrum.

Then he turned to me.

I looked into his eyes, the same eyes I had watched for ten years. When we were children, he would wait for me in the alley after school and smile at me with those eyes.

However, now, there was only impatience in those eyes.

"Is it that big of a deal? It was only a joke," he said. "Don't be so sensitive."

The laughter hadn't stopped. Phone flashes kept flickering. Olivia leaned back in her chair, her smile growing wider, as though she had won a war.

I lowered my head and stared at my faded jeans, the denim worn pale from being washed so many times.

Ten years ago, when I was eight, I was sent to the Reed family.

I did my own laundry, made my bed, was always the first up to sweep the floor, and the last to turn off the lights at night.

I taught Daniel every math problem he couldn't finish. On the days when the Reed family's housekeeper was off, I was the one cooking for them.

Ten years of companionship, and to them, I was only a freeloader.

I suddenly laughed. It wasn't a bitter laugh or a forced one.

I genuinely found it funny.

"Yeah." I stood up, my voice so calm that I was surprised by it. "I'm a freeloader."

The room burst out laughing again, but this time, I didn't listen anymore.

I turned and walked out of the room, the cold wind in the corridor blowing down my collar.

My legs were shaking, but my steps never faltered.

The moment I pushed open the main door, the cutting wind hit me in the face.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Then I scrolled all the way to the bottom of my contacts and found a number with no name attached to it.

This number was given to me by an old man when I was eight. He crouched down, his rough hand resting on my shoulder, and said, "Nicole, whenever you want to come home, call us."

I'd never made the call over the past ten years. I thought the Reed residence was my home.

I pressed the call button. It barely rang twice before someone answered.

An old voice came through, trembling slightly. "Nicole?"

Something seemed to lodge in my throat, and my eyes began to burn. Still, I gritted my teeth and squeezed out the words. "Grandpa, I want to come home."

There was a brief silence on the other end. Then he said, "Okay. I'll come get you."

When I hung up, a drop of water fell onto the back of my hand. It wasn't rain, though.

I wiped it away, slipped my phone back in my pocket, and headed for the school gate.

Behind me, the music from the room came through the glass doors, loud and lively, as if it belonged to another world.

I didn't look back.

*****

When I got back to the Reed residence, the living room lights were still on. I stood at the door, slid the key into the lock, gave it a twist, and pushed the door open.

The slippers I had worn for ten years were sitting beside the cabinet.

Third slot, left side. The soles were so worn that they were almost exposing the insoles, but no one in the Reed family had ever asked if I wanted a new pair.

I didn't bother changing shoes. I walked across the living room in my sneakers.

Then I headed upstairs.

My room was all the way at the end of the second-floor hallway. I pushed the door open and looked around. The room was small, with only a single bed, a desk, and a wardrobe.

I swung open the wardrobe. There were no more than five changes of clothes in it.

I pulled an old backpack out from under the bed and started stuffing my things inside.

I packed two changes of clothes, a more-than-half-used tube of facial cleanser, a few textbooks, and a pencil case.

That was it.

Ten years in this house, and everything that proved I existed here fit into an old backpack.

As I pulled the zipper closed, the door opened. Linda Reed, Daniel's mom, stood in the doorway.

She was in pajamas, hair loose, eyes wide in shock. "Nicole, w-what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving, Mrs. Reed." I slung the backpack over my shoulder. "It's been ten years. It's time to go."

Her face went pale in an instant. It wasn't worry. It was fear.

I'd never seen her look like that before.

"You can't leave." She rushed over and grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin with enough force to make it feel as though she wanted to pin me in place.

"Nicole, listen. You can't go. If you leave, this family—" She abruptly cut herself off, like she realized she almost spilled the truth.

I looked down at her hand.

Ten years, and this was the first time she had ever held me so tightly.

"Mrs. Reed." I lifted my head to look her in the eye. "What are you so afraid of?"

Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.