Something I’d been holding back for months shifted. Hardened. Clarified.
Her face was pale and tight, eyes full of judgment instead of concern.
She cared about how we looked at this school. Not about Ava’s tears. Not about what Ava needed.
I felt myself go cold, steady in a way I hadn’t expected.
“This isn’t working,” I said softly.
My mother blinked. “Excuse me?”
“This. Living here. You. Me. Ava. It’s hurting her. And it’s hurting me.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “Eleanor, don’t be ridiculous. You need stability. You need guidance?—”
“We need space,” I said. “I need to make decisions without being . . . corrected. And Ava needs acceptance, not discipline for being who she is.”
My mother looked like I’d slapped her.
Good.
Because for the first time in my adult life, I wasn’t shrinking. I wasn’t smoothing things over. I wasn’t trying to be the daughter she wanted. I was being the mother Ava needed. Iheaded up the stairs already formulating a plan. We needed to get out.
As I entered my childhood room that I'd been sleeping in for the past month, I opened my laptop and wrote a letter to my agent.
Hey Len,
Start shopping the story with the little derby girl I told you about. I'm ready to get back to work.
El
I closedmy laptop and flopped back on my bed. It was time.
Later that night, I was curled up in my bed watching old sitcoms when there was a soft knock at my door. It slowly creaked open, and there was my girl, in her black and white striped pj's. She looked like the prisoner I felt like.
And then she was padding across the room, clutching her stuffed raven, and climbing silently into my bed like she had nearly every night since Ethan died.
I lifted the covers for her without a word. She snuggled up against my side, small and warm and trembling just a little.
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything.
Then, very quietly, “Mama?”
“Yes, baby?”
Her voice cracked. “I didn’t tell you why I fought.”
My breath stilled.
I smoothed her hair back gently. “You can tell me now.”
She swallowed hard, her little fingers twisting in the blanket.
“He was . . . he was being mean to Leo.”
My chest tightened. “Leo?”
She nodded against my arm. “He said Leo was weird. And he . . . he said people like him shouldn’t be inourclass.” Hervoice went sharp with remembered anger. “He said . . . you know the R word.”
