Not the worst thing in the world. Kids failed tests all the time. But to me it felt catastrophic, as though it spelled out in red ink just how inadequate I was. It had been sitting there all Thanksgiving break, taunting me from its cage. Alec would have told me to shrug it off, reminded me that school was onlyone part of my life, and grades didn’t define me. Alec always knew how to make failures feel like they didn’t matter.
But Alec wasn’t here.
It was just me and Dad.
He sat across from me, the newspaper stretching wide in his hands. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers, curling smoke into the air. His glass of whiskey sat untouched, but his gaze flicked over the newsprint without really taking anything in. The silence pressed heavily, like the whole room was waiting.
“Emersyn,” he said suddenly, his voice sharp enough to cut.
I jumped. “Yes?”
“Bring me your schoolbag.”
My blood ran cold. I looked toward the bag slouched against the counter, its zipper half open. The test was inside, folded, and hidden. My first instinct was to lie, to say it was in my room, to buy myself time. But his tone left no room for excuses.
“Yes, sir.”
The scrape of my chair against the tile echoed too loudly as I stood. My legs felt weak as I crossed the room, kneeling to unzip the bag. The paper was there, wedged between notebooks, and I pulled it out with shaking hands. When I turned back, he was already watching me.
“Give it here.”
I stepped forward, setting it on the table. He didn’t look at it at first—just at me, his eyes flat and cold. Then slowly he picked it up, unfolded it, and studied the grade circled in red.
“Sixty-four.”
My voice cracked. “It was a hard test.”
“Hard?” His voice was deceptively calm, almost quiet. “Is that what you tell yourself? That life is hard, so failure is excusable?”
“No, I?—”
The slap came before I could finish. His palm connected with my cheek in a crack that reverberated through the kitchen. My head snapped to the side, tears springing instantly to my eyes. I gasped, my hand flying up to cover the hot sting. I turned slowly back to him, my vision blurring. He had never hit me before. Never.
“D-Dad?” My voice trembled, disbelief choking me.
“You listen to me.” He leaned forward, his voice suddenly thunderous. “Failure is not an option for a Spade. Do you hear me?”
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might break. “It’s just a test?—”
His fist slammed down on the table, rattling the ashtray, making the lightbulb above sway. “It is not just a test. It is proof you do not understand who you are. Proof you don’t understand the code.”
“The…code?” I whispered, wide-eyed.
“Yes.” His gaze bored into mine, terrifying in its intensity. “The Spade family code. Family before all. Debt must be repaid. Betrayal is punished by death. That is who you are. That is what you will live by.”
The words struck me harder than his hand had. My mouth went dry.
“I don’t?—”
“You will learn.” He shoved the paper aside, scattering pencils and notebooks across the table. His hand shot out, gripping my chin hard enough to bruise, and forcing my eyes up to his, his voice a growl. “Say it. Family before all.”
I shook, the words catching in my throat. “F-Family before all.”
“Again!”
“Family before all!”
“Debt must be repaid.”
