Chapter FourKami
How could everything fall apart so fast? Since the school year had started, everything had gone from bad to worse. Even if they’d brought me problems, Thiago and Taylor being back was my one saving grace. Knowing they were next door again, seeing their mother leaving for work, was something I could only have dreamed a year ago.
The day had drawn on so long, I thought it would never end. First I’d found out about my brother, then Thiago had rejected me, and besides—how could I be so stupid as to try to kiss him? What the hell was I thinking? We’d both agreed it was over between us. It had to be. I knew that.
I was withTaylor.
Taylor…and I loved him, dammit! Even on that horrible day, he’d managed to wring a smile out of me. But then the thing with the lockers happened. Why would someone do that? Who had wanted to turn everyone against me? Someone hated me. That much was certain.
Now the whole school thought I’d spray-painted the seniors’ lockers. Julian had even fallen for it, and now he didn’t trust me, and our friendship was ruined. I had to talk to him.
I got home around four. As far back as I can remember, I’d never gotten home that early unless practice had been canceled for some reason or we had a half day. But I had to admit, it was nice having a little time for myself now that I’d quit the squad. I could study for hours, and I wouldn’t have to stay up all night to get good grades. I could even draw or read a book without feeling guilty about not doing something more productive with my time. Quitting cheerleading had opened up a new world to me. And best of all, I didn’t have to spend so much time at school.
When we walked into the house, we found Mom and Dad sitting at the coffee table across from a man in his fifties with gray hair and a white beard. There was a stack of papers in front of them.
“How was school?” Mom asked, looking up from the papers she was reading.
“Good,” I lied, keeping my eyes on the stranger. “What are you doing?”
“This is Mr. Richards, my lawyer,” my mother said, a little too politely. “He’s drawn up a draft of the divorce agreement, and we’re going over it together.”
I couldn’t believe how coolly she could talk about splitting up with the man she’d been with since she was nineteen years old. This was the first time I’d seen Dad not looking sad or bitter. He just seemed serious, as though he’d accepted it. Had he finally seen Mom’s true colors?
I was furious, and it was hard to control my feelings. But for my own good, I needed to remain calm. I stepped forward and directly addressed the lawyer, “Mr. Richards,” I said as politely as I could muster. “What do I have to do to be able to live with my father?”
Mr. Richards looked back and forth uncomfortably between my parents.
“Well, um…it says here your parents have agreed that you and your brother will be staying with your mother for now, and—”
“I’m eighteen, though, so I can choose, right?”
“Kamila…” my mother said nervously.
“According to the law, you’re an adult, so it’s your right. But let’s not forget the question of who is willing or able to support you. Your parents have told me you’re still in high school—”
“But if I get a job I can go, right?”
“Kamila,” Dad said sternly, “that’s enough. You’re staying with your mother. We’ve talked it over. It’s decided.”
I turned to him. “Why?” I asked, hurt. “Don’t you want me to live with you?”
He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What I want is for you to stay with your brother, Kamila,” he said, looking bitter. He’d made his decision.
That made me reconsider things.
“He’s still little, and he needs to be with your mother. Cam needs you now too, even more than ever.”
“Plus,” my mother chimed in, daring me to talk back to her, “I’ll need you to look after him when I’m busy.”
“Oh, I get it. You want me to live with you so I can play babysitter?”
Mr. Richards seemed uncomfortable but intrigued, moving his head left and right like someone watching a tennis match.
“Your father doesn’t have the means to provide for us anymore. Don’t you see that?” my mother asked, losing her composure.
“And you do?”
