Stella felt Tyler tense beside her. He sat back. Said nothing.
“Mum, I’ve thought about this. A lot. It’s not?—”
“Clearly. Since you’ve apparently been planning this behind my back.”
“I wasn’t planning behind?—”
“You went to the school. You talked to teachers.” Fiona’s voice cracked. “And you didn’t think to ask me first?”
“I’m asking you now.”
“You’re not asking. You’re telling me.”
The counter was cold under Stella’s palm. The folder from Lindsey sat at the edge of her vision—still there, still waiting.
“Okay,” Stella said. “Fine. I’m announcing. I want to stay. I’m asking you to let me.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then we figure out what comes next.”
“What comes next is you get on a plane and come home.”
“Mum—”
“That’s not how this works, Stella. You don’t get to just decide?—”
“Why not?” The words came out sharper than she intended. “Why don’t I get to decide? It’s my life.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“I’ll be seventeen in four months.”
“Which means for four more months, you’re still sixteen?—”
“You’ve had all the say! For sixteen years, you decided everything. Where I lived, who I saw, whether I got to know my own great-grandmother?—”
“Don’t you dare?—”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.” Stella’s voice wobbled. She steadied it. “I’m not choosing against you. I’m choosing FOR something. For the first time, I get to choose. And I’m choosing this.”
Silence.
“No,” Fiona said.
“Mum—”
“Absolutely not. This conversation is over.”
“Yes.” Stella heard her own voice, surprisingly steady. “It is.”
She pulled the phone from her ear and pressed the red button.
The screen went dark.
The kitchen was very quiet. The smoke had cleared. Somewhere outside, a car door slammed.
Tyler didn’t move.
