Chapter Text
The first-class cabin was not 'cozy' like the airline posters boasted, but claustrophobic. Melanie sat across from me, curled up with her phone, blissfully engulfed in the digital world at her fingertips. I had been scrolling through Instagram too, but the generic smiles and boring events that I would have to hear about later couldn't distract me forever. I had spent much of the flight staring off, overlaying the aircraft I saw with daydreams playing in my head, daydreams of my Hawaiian paradise.
It was surreal when we first moved to Molokai. Everywhere we looked were magnificent beaches and picturesque forests, cliffs, and volcanos. Everything was better there — everything. The sun shone with an unbound radiance, dancing atop the waves bright enough to blind. The plants and flowers were numerous and their colors still more vibrant. And the sound of the waves followed me everywhere, but I couldn't hear them anymore over the loud mechanic groan of a jet engine.
The seatbelt light flashed on and an overhead voice alerted us of the descent. Melanie adjusted in her seat, and I sat unmoved.
"Have you just been sitting there this whole time?" she asked me.
"Where else would I sit?" I countered. "On the wing?"
She rolled her eyes. "What have you been doing?"
"Thinking."
"Of what Dad might say, or Mom?" Her voice hiked a pitch at the mention of her.
"We have nothing to be afraid of," I told her. "We haven't done anything wrong."
She scoffed, unconvinced. "Whatever you say."
"It's true, Mel. Mom was being unfair to us. She forced us out of our home, and you need to remember that. We can't be blamed for doing something about it."
Melanie seemed satisfied at that point, but truthfully, I still needed convincing as much as she did. I couldn't say what would happen to us after we showed up to Dad's townhouse uninvited.
It was almost nightfall by the time we finally landed, and there was no more brilliant sunset over the edge of the ocean. Rather, the sky was an ominous and depressing grey. Every exhale clouded in the frigid air, and dusty snow slithered with the breeze across the tarmac. We took a Lyft to the townhouse in the Lower East Side of Manhattan and heaved our bulky luggage onto the sidewalk in one lump pile. I rushed up the stairs and tried the code into the house, but the door wouldn't budge. I tried a few more times, then some variations of the same four numbers. I resorted to ringing the doorbell, but nobody answered. Melanie whined that her toes were going numb, so I had to call my father.
"This is Eduardo," he answered formally, as if he didn't have my number saved in his phone anymore.
"Dad? It's Gabriella."
"Gabriella? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said casually. "Nothing at all. But actually, Melanie and I are here!"
"Here? Wha- here? Where is here? What are you talking about?"
"Right outside your front door. Surprise!"
The line went silent.
"Dad?"
The curtains inside swept aside, and my father peaked his head out from behind the glass. I waved like a moron, but his dumbfounded expression didn't budge. He disappeared inside again and a few seconds later the door unlatched.
"Gabriella?" He said with the phone still active in his hand. "Is everything alright?"
"Of course! We just thought it'd be fun to spend some time with you." My tone was sweet but not overly kiss-ass. That batted eyelashes trick expired years ago, and it would be too obvious of a ruse.
Melanie jolted around us to rush to the warm indoors, and Dad stuttered about. "I- I don't understand. Wha- Why- Who said you could do this? Does your mother know you're here?"
"C'mon, Dad. What's the problem? Aren't you happy to see us?" I deflected.
"Overjoyed," he answered plainly. "Now answer the question, does your mother know you're here?"
"Well- she-"
"Yes," Melanie called out from the foyer. "Gabriella told her many, many times that we're not going to Albuquerque."
"Does she know you're here?" Dad asked her. "With me?"
"Dad," I said. "It's complicated."
"It's a yes or no question," he barked.
"No," I confessed. "I'm so sorry, Dad. We wanted to see you so badly, but we knew she wouldn't let us visit if we told her the truth."
"Gabriella," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "You have no idea how much of a headache this is giving me."
"Let me tell her," Melanie offered. "I'll call her right now and let her know we're safe and that you had nothing to do with it."
"That's very sweet of you, mija," Dad said. "Please, as soon as you can."
Melanie ran off, but Dad caught me when I turned to follow her. "Not so fast," he said. "You have a lot of answering to do."
We set up in the kitchen. Me, perched up to the island counter, and him, pacing the space in front of the sink with a short glass of aged whiskey in his hand. The only thing that was missing from this interrogation was a voice recorder and my own lawyer. "Keep the answer as short as the question. One, why are you here?"
I breathed in. "To keep it short, the answer hasn't changed. Like I said earlier, we wanted to spend time with you."
He stared at me a few moments longer without saying a single word. It was the pause technique. I had learned all about it from crime shows. Detectives use a deliberate pause in their questioning so the suspect is compelled to offer more details. By now I knew better than to fill the silence with my blabber and risk giving him something to use against me. I could tell this reunion scheme wasn't working, and now convincing him of a different innocent reason would be impossible. I was scrambling to think of something else, something real enough to be convincing, but not so real that he pieced everything together - that we were seeking asylum from a worse situation. That part would have to come later when he was better buttered up to receive the finer details. Then, he spoke again. "That would make for a very compelling cover story except neither of you have called me in months. Plus there wouldn't have been an issue if you wanted to spend New Year's together. You could have set this up weeks ago. No, it wasn't that. This was something else. This was unplanned. This was…desperate." He paused to swirl his drink. "So, now that I've been honest about what I know, tell me what I'm missing. And try it again with the truth this time."
"Dad, I promise you, this is the truth. You can make me swear on the Bible, and I'll say the same exact thing. We just needed to visit you."
"That'd be of no use to us, mija. You never bought into religion." He emptied the glass of whiskey and set it in the sink. "What's happening in Albuquerque?"
I froze. How did he know about Albuquerque? How much did he know about Albuquerque?
"Isn't that where your grandmother lives?"
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Of course, the one detail he picked up on was something Melanie let slip. "Mom is ruining everything," I admitted. "She's trying to uproot Melanie and I to relocate us there."
"I don't think 'trying' is the right word. She is, you're just resisting."
"We can't live in Albuquerque, Dad. It's not where either of us belong."
"So, what is it then?"
"What do you mean?" I asked him.
"What is it that you want?"
"I want to live with you."
"Gabriella, cut the act. You're old enough to know better by now. You know it isn't as simple as that. There are outside factors at play. Like custody, for starters. Breaking your living arrangement could affect that."
"Can't you and Mom write up a new arrangement?"
He breathed in deeply. "We could, but even if we miraculously agreed on a new arrangement, this cannot be undone. You will need to go to Albuquerque in the summertime. No more surprise visits, no other delays."
"I'm positive this is what I want. New York City is the right place for Melanie and I."
"Where will you go to school?"
"The convent," I answered.
The Convent, formally known as The Convent of the Sacred Heart, was a private all-girls school in our neighborhood. It was the school for heiresses and socialites, future singers and fashion icons like Lady Gaga and the little Hilton sister. Needless to say, it was exactly where Melanie and I belonged.
"You said you'd never wear that uniform," Dad argued.
"I'd wear a clown suit if it made them happy."
"Eddie?" Crystal — Dad's newer and much, much younger new wife — said as she came into the kitchen. "Gabriella? What are you doing here?" Crystal turned to my dad. "Did you know she was coming?"
"We planned a little surprise," I said.
"We?!" Her green eyes bulged and her face flushed red.
"Melanie is here too, of course."
"Of course?!"
I explained before she completely exploded, "It's been so long since we've all seen each other. I thought it'd be nice to get together before the next semester starts."
"How charming." She lied terribly, but at least she was diffused for now. "A little head's up would have been appreciated." She adjusted her nightgown over her engorged baby bump. I had nearly forgotten that I had a half-brother on the way. We entered into a momentary standoff, but I wasn't sure what for. Crystal, rubbing her abdomen, versus me, silently looking at my father with an awkward smile. I hated her so much. She made me feel like I was the intruder in this home that I lived in long before she ever showed up.
Crystal suddenly shot my father a look.
"Well," he spoke, obeying her silent command. "I'm sure we all could use a little rest. So, Gabriella, we'll talk more tomorrow."
There were more subtle ways to tell me to fuck off, but this sufficed too.
Crystal was always up to no good. That was her nature, after all. I hadn't known her for anything else besides a woman who caused trouble. She entered my life as my dad's mistress who may not have caused my parents' final separation, but their affair certainly put the nail in the coffin. Mom and Dad were already doomed, but too stubborn and proud to end it for good. I guess I had her to thank for that. Not much had changed in the seven years that followed. Against mine and Melanie's protests and boycotting the wedding, she still managed to marry our father. And now, she was planting obstacle after obstacle between my wishes and the tight hold she had on him.
I came downstairs for breakfast around noon, and she was busy spinning in circles about the kitchen. The flour cascaded down the scoop and eggs cracked perfectly on the rim. She pinched some salt and splashed some milk and poured the mixture onto the hot skillet with meticulous caution.
"What are you making?" I asked finally, as it became apparent to me that neither of us had spoken to the other yet.
"Crepes."
"Let me know if I get in your way."
"Don't worry," she said, not removing her eyes from the stovetop. "I will."
Melanie came down right in time. I was in the worst mood to be set off again, but that was the last thing we needed while Dad mulled things over. She bellied up to Crystal and peeked over the rim of her bowl. "Oo, what are you making?"
"It's not for you," Crystal snapped.
"Mel," I said, and led her out to the dining room.
"What's her problem?" Melanie whispered.
"Just let it go," I said. "I'm sure she's already looking for excuses to tell Dad we can't stay here. Let's not give her any more."
Melanie and I lingered in the dining room until Crystal disappeared upstairs to eat alone. I grabbed a granola bar and went to my bed, catching up on my group chat when Melanie sighed and plopped down next to me. "I'm bored," she whined. "I want to go out."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I don't care," she said. "Out."
"Hm." I watched London's Instagram story with Jay and Natalie, all three posing with mimosas and a massive breakfast platter in Natalie's gazebo, palm trees framing the distant ocean behind them.
"Is that Jay?" Melanie peered over my shoulder at the screen.
I nudged her away. "Get your own friends, nosey."
"I'm not nosey, I'm bored!"
I was going to remind her that her boredom wasn't my fault and shouldn't be my problem, but then I reconsidered. We were comrades in this battle against Crystal, so it was for the best that we got along. Plus, two sparing sisters would only add more leverage for Crystal to get us sent to Albuquerque.
"You'd better get your coat and gloves," I said. "It's fucking frigid today."
"Where are we going?"
"On the ice."
"You mean like on the harbor?"
"No, Mel. Do I look like I can ice fish? We're going ice skating."
Melanie gasped excitedly. "Are you serious?"
"Of course!"
She dove off my bed and raced down the hall to her room. "Bring earmuffs!" I called after her. I opened the closet door to look for my old skates, but when I flicked on the light, stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes marked Gabriella were the only things inside. There were no shirts on any of the hangers, or shoes on the rack, a purse on a shelf, or a single misplaced sock. I found it so bizarre and annoying since I would have had to unpack everything in August again anyways.
I would begin my search in the box that occupied the skates' old spot on the very top right shelf. I rose onto my toes and clawed at it when the weight of its contents suddenly shifted and nearly fell on my head before it thudded onto the floor with a muffled shatter. I knelt onto the scratchy carpet, peeled off the packing tape and folded the flaps aside. Images from my childhood confronted me. Me, sitting on an oversized sofa with a newborn Melanie on my lap. She was still so pale and loud, but I loved her so much already. I grabbed the photo of me in a leotard, pouting with a silver medal around my neck at my first gymnastics meet. I cried the entire car ride home because I didn't get gold, and Mom and Dad stopped for ice cream to subdue my tantrum. And then there was me, clasped onto my father's big hand that dangled at his side as we stood outside my elementary school on my first day of kindergarten. I held the picture frame with us three, Dad, Melanie and I, on a Christmas vacation to Greece, divided only by a jagged crack in the glass.
I tossed the picture frame back in the box and rushed out. I searched the entire length of the hall upstairs, then the dining room, the living room, and the foyer. I resorted to scavenging through Dad's file cabinet in his office before I could finally uncover one photo of Melanie and I, and it was our school yearbook photos from three years ago.
"There you are!" Melanie said from the doorway. "Are you ready? Where are your skates?"
"I'll rent some," I said with a crack in my voice.
"Are you okay?"
"Let's go," I answered, leading her down the hall. We were nearly out when Dad intercepted us on the stairs.
"Where are you going?" he asked us.
"Bryant," I said.
"Bryant Park? Why would you want to go there this time of year?"
"To go ice skating," Melanie answered.
He looked at me, and whispered as he walked by, "A word, please."
I told Melanie to wait for me in the foyer and followed Dad back upstairs to his office. "Gabriella," he began, closing the door behind us. He crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his head into his hands. "You aren't here to play tourist. The semester is going to start fast. There isn't any more time to waste. The last day to take the entrance exam is tomorrow. I had to beg them to open a chair for you tomorrow morning."
"What entrance exam?"
"All upper-level students must take an entrance exam. If your scores don't impress them, you'll have to wait another year to retest and I'd have no choice but to send you to live with your mother."
"You have nothing to worry about."
"Gabriella, I hope you understand what it is you're asking for. The Convent is extremely competitive. Those girls are going to Ivy League schools. They don't go to parties or date. They have expensive tutors and they study."
I understood everything he meant but wouldn't say. He was trying to dissuade me, but that just made me want to prove him wrong even more.
"I can do it," I told him. "I want to do it."
"I know, mija. I'll never tell you there's anything in this world you can't have as long as you put in the effort."
"I'll get in," I promised. I turned around and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Ice skating."
"Still? Gabriella, didn't you hear a word I said? You need to study."
"I will. But first I have to take Melanie ice skating. I can't break a promise."
I sensed he was disappointed, but I walked away just the same and joined Melanie at the curb.
While Melanie preoccupied herself with finger art on the foggy windows, I used the long ride to Bryant to research The Convent's entrance exam. An old forum online outlined the junior transfer student sections: math, science, reading, English, and two writing sections: an argumentative essay and a personal essay. I stayed on Melanie's heel as she guided me in so I could read more about the specifics. English included grammar and punctuation, reading was short excerpts and comprehension questions, math spanned linear algebra to precalculus, and science included biology and chemistry. Interestingly, I found that the personal essay doubled as the admission profile cover letter.
"Gabby," Melanie said, "aren't you coming?"
"Go warm up. I'll catch up with you in a couple laps."
I found and bookmarked crash course video, Quizlet sets, Khan video lectures, and online practice quizzes. Melanie bugged me again a few minutes later, so I put on my skates and slid out onto the ice. She held my hand with a sweaty, bone-breaking grip. "Whoa!" She screamed, her skates kicking out in front of us like an uncoordinated tap dance.
"Relax, Mel. The ice can sense when you're afraid." I moved behind her and pressed against her shoulders to push her along the ice. "Now loosen your knees, stand tall, and glide." I propelled her out on her own, and watched her glide like a stiff mannequin until slowing to a stop at the wall.
"Oh my God," she said. "Was I doing that alone?"
"All alone," I said. "Come with me."
She took my hand and we skated out to the very center of the rink where the others circled around us. I held both her hands and spun around faster and faster until it looked like we were fixed in place and the world revolved around us, as it rightly should.
I awoke to thunderous bangs on my door. "Gabriella," Dad yelled through the mahogany, "it's time." I unstuck my cheek from the notebook page. I couldn't have slept more than two hours total, and the sways in my vision made this even more apparent. Preparation and review videos played at double speed all night long. I paused only to attempt the free practice test, fill up on more coffee, or use the restroom. I put a sweater on over my old T-shirt, packed away the stack of flashcards, gave my hair a quick spray of dry shampoo, and went out to the garage.
Before our seatbelts had even latched, Dad was already doubting me. "Are you sure you're ready?" he asked innocently, but I knew he was hoping I had changed my mind overnight.
"Yeah," I answered with a yawn.
"This test is no joke, Gabriella."
"I haven't been taking it as a joke. I studied all night actually."
"I know you work hard, and I am so proud of you already. This is a notoriously difficult application process for everyone. No matter what happens, just remember that you have a family who supports you and wants to see you succeed. You will succeed, no matter where you go." He went on for quite a while longer, but soon enough I fell asleep against the car door.
He shook me awake outside the convent. "Gabby, are you sure you're ready for this?"
There was no time to reschedule. I was already a late applicant, and that alone decreased my chances of being accepted. My father was not a dumb man, he would never openly say what he wanted because he knew how I would react. Instead, he needed me to choose to give up on my own accord, but that made me want it even harder. I left the car and rushed inside the old building. "Gabriella Montez," I said to the secretary in the office. "I'm here for the junior transfer student exam."
Dad caught up with me and signed some paperwork. We were the only ones in the office, and I grew worried that we were too late and everyone else had already begun. The secretary called me over and brought me to a vacant classroom.
"Set up anywhere you like," she said.
"Where is everybody else?" I asked.
"You were the only appointment today." She shrugged. "Wednesday mornings are the least busy time slots, but we'll have more in the next few days."
"I see." I tried to remember what my dad had said. There was something about this being the last day to test, and him begging them to squeeze me in today. It was suspicious, but I didn't make any of this the proctor's problem.
I sat at the desk at the very front and center row and took the pencil in my hand. She read me the instructions and standard academic integrity rules and expectations. She placed the booklet on my desk. "The exam will start at seven," she said, and pointed over her head to the clock above the whiteboard behind her. The second hand trudged up from fifty: fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three. My heart pounded furiously in my chest. Fifty-four. Fifty-five. Fifty-six. My breath was lodged in my throat, stuck on an inhale.
The second hand pointed straight up, and I flipped over the packet to the first page. In a few seconds, everything else disappeared. It was just me and the exam together in a vacuum where nothing else existed. No grandma, no Albuquerque, no Mom or Dad or Crystal or ex-boyfriends to bother me.
I finished the reading portion in a half hour, and elected to use the last half hour to go back and double check my answers. It continued like this for every section until the writing prompts. It was around ten when the proctor told me to take a break, but I said I didn't need one.
"Are you sure?" She asked. "You'll be sitting there for a while longer."
"I'm ready," I said. "I need to do this now while I'm focused." This was all true, and I could feel my all-nighter closing in on my energy.
"Good luck," she said. "Begin when you're ready."
I turned the page.
After I finished my test, the only thing on my mind was the warm embrace of my bed and a full twelve hours alone to catch up on sleep. I didn't remember the ride home but I didn't think that I had fallen asleep either. I was so exhausted and sleep deprived that my own perspective of time was out of my consciousness. Suddenly I was standing outside Dad's car in the garage. So I dragged myself all the way to my room, closed my curtains, and slept until dinner time.
Crystal had fixed up a turkey with baked potatoes, carrots, and green beans. Melanie commented that it was a lot of food, and Crystal seemed very annoyed to explain to her that she intended to donate it to the homeless shelter. I thought that Dad should have said something to Crystal about her curt tone, but then I didn't pay attention to anything else that happened. I was too tired and hungry to care about the rest. So I finished my meal, excused myself, and went straight back upstairs to sleep some more.
I woke up completely disoriented. It was pitch black in my room, and I couldn't be sure what time or day it was anymore. I fumbled into my bedside table and found my phone. It was only three in the morning, and I had no idea what to do with myself. I was perfectly rested and couldn't fall asleep again if I wanted to. I sat on my bed for no longer than a few seconds before I realized the time zone difference meant my Hawaiian friends would still be awake. I grabbed my phone and Facetimed Natalie.
She appeared on screen after one ring with a huge smile. "Gabriella!"
"Nat!" I cheered. "How are you?"
"I'm great! What time is it over there?"
"Way too fucking early," I said.
"How long do you expect to keep this schedule up?"
"Just tonight. I pulled an all nighter yesterday and slept all yesterday...wait, did that make any sense?"
She laughed. "I think I know what you mean, but I'm not sure."
"I'm not sure either, to be honest with you." She laughed again. "Oh my God, Natalie. I miss you so much already."
"Did you get through the book yet?"
"What book?" I gasped. "Oh my God, I nearly forgot!" Her face dropped slightly. "I'm so sorry. I promise I'll look at it soon. It's just been absolutely crazy over here. My dad gave me less than a day to study for the entrance exam, and Crystal has been a nightmare."
"You don't need to explain yourself. I'm sure you haven't been able to miss us. It hasn't even been a week yet."
A voice on her end spoke. "Who are you talking to?"
"It's Gabby!" Natalie said.
The feed blurred as the phone traded hands and suddenly Jay was occupying the screen. "Gabriella!" He shouted. "Do you hear that? The island is calling you home, bitch! Here's to you, my forever boo." He clanked a shot glass with the phone and tossed it back to Natalie.
"Is everyone else there too?"
"Yeah, we're all here."
"I won't keep you then. I'll talk to you soon. I love you!"
"I love you t-!"
The call ended and I fell onto my bed, staring into the darkness and contemplating another phone call. Since all my friends were with Natalie, then there was only one other person in all of Molokai who I could talk to. The issue was that he had just broken up with me. I was shocked to realize that I hadn't thought about Luke in all this time. I had been so preoccupied with the exam that he hadn't crossed my mind even once the last couple days. The thought of calling him made me feel nothing. Not nervous, not sad, not excited. If it was possible, I was already entirely indifferent to the idiot.
I knew that was abnormal, and not in a cutesy not-like-the-other-girls way. My heart was defective because I had helped so many friends through their breakups and friendship dramas. I saw them torn apart by it, again and again, for months to follow. It was all they could talk about, and all they would fear to remember in a happy moment. But at this time, lying on my bed in the darkness of the night, I could feel to my core that Luke was gone and he took none of me with him. I was as whole as I was before he entered my life, and his existence hadn't affected me in the slightest. It was unsettling to wish I felt more for people, like I needed to prove my own empathy to myself.
A serious question came to me, what is wrong with me?
I was a cold bitch, or a narcissist, or some other twisted type of person who couldn't learn to care about anybody else. I was ashamed because I knew this was something I could never repair or tell anyone. And worse yet, I didn't need a breakup to realize this. Perhaps there was already a feeling I had been long acquainted with but chose to ignore. It was a deep and neglected feeling. It was my darkest truth that if everybody I knew disappeared the next day, I wouldn't be so bothered.
The only exception was Natalie. If there was one person I truly loved, it was my best friend. It was purely platonic love, but I could label it as such because it was so unlike anything else. For years we were inseparable, spending entire months together over the summer and every weekend during the school year. I knew the ins and outs of her mind and heart, and I gave her only the best parts of me. I was so invested in her happiness as if she was an extension of myself, and everything that hurt her hurt me just as equally. If one day she decided to never speak to me again, for any reason whatsoever, I would never forgive myself.
I knew romantic love from the movies, but I hadn't ever experienced anything like it for myself. Usually a boyfriend was just a warm body for sex, and I didn't feel bad about that either. I was careful with who I chose to date; arrogant boys who I knew would never fall for me. Jessica was a more complicated matter, and I still felt responsible for all of it. There was nothing I regretted more in my whole life than when I made her a friend with benefits. The day she confessed her deeper feelings for me, I promised myself I would never get caught up in another arrangement like it again. And although I took responsibility and learned from it, I don't know that I ever truly felt sorry.
My mind had wandered too far away into dangerous territory where I was confronted again with those problems in my head and my heart that still had no solution. It was useless to dwell on the parts of me that I could never willfully change, so I turned on the light and tackled a different problem.
With everything else going on, I had completely neglected my self care regimen. I set up YouTube on my TV and found an at-home workout playlist. All the surfing in Molokai and soccer at St. Augustine's had earned me a trimmed waist and faint six pack, and I was not about to sacrifice that physique over one bad week.
It wasn't until after I had showered off and dressed for the day that Dad stuck his head into my room. I was at the vanity blow drying my hair, so I didn't hear him at first until he appeared in my mirror. I turned off the blow dryer and he spoke to me again. "Mija, I got your results."
"What did they say?"
"You worked so hard and I'm so proud of you, but unfortunately they did not accept you. I'm sure you won't believe me when I say this, but I promise you this hurts me just as much as it hurts you."
I shook my head. "That isn't right. There must have been a mistake. You have to call them, or speak to the principal, or somebody. Dad, I swear on my life that I passed their test."
"Gabriella, it wasn't just about passing or failing. Their application pool is extremely competitive. They reviewed your grades from St. Augustine's, and spoke to your old instructors. I just want you to understand that this was not your fault."
"Then why are you punishing me for it like it is?"
"Gabriella, I'm not-"
"You made it an ultimatum," I shouted. "You said if I couldn't get in then I had to go to live with Mom. So don't tell me it's not my fault when you're pinning it all on me. I failed the exams, I didn't get accepted, I wasn't good enough so I'm being punished!"
"Lower your voice, Gabriella. You're still my child, and you're not going to speak to me like that as long as you are in my house."
I spoke softly again, not because he asked but because now I had something I didn't need to scream to scare him. "It's easier to make it my fault than to admit you just don't want us here, isn't it?"
"What?" He shook his head. "That isn't true. Gabriella, of course I want you and Melanie here! I love you both more than anything in the world. It breaks my heart to send you away. It always does. It's never gotten any easier saying goodbye."
"Then where are we anywhere in this house? Where are all our photos? You didn't notice Crystal did some redecorating, did you? She packed me away, stuffed in cardboard boxes in a dark closet. Hidden and forgotten."
I knew even then that I sounded awfully melodramatic, but I didn't have much experience admitting hurt. I was quick to scream and rage and bridge burning just so I could avoid this awkwardness. The words weren't perfect, but at the very least they were said. I expected an indication of care for my vulnerability, but all I received for my efforts was a scoff and an eyeroll. "It's decorations, Gabriella. It's just decorations. It doesn't mean anything. You're still my daughter."
"I'll always be your daughter. I couldn't change that no matter how much I tried, but blood isn't enough. if you continue to keep me boxed away like this, one day I will do the same."
Melanie asked for another trip to Bryant Park, but I told her no and locked her out of my room. I didn't join them for lunch and I expected her to piece it together that I was not in the mood, but instead she complained to my dad. She didn't know I was coming down the stairs, so I paused to hear everything from the balcony overlooking the foyer.
"She won't take me, Dad," she whined.
"Maybe this evening."
"Will you tell her to?"
"I'll talk to her, mija."
"I want to go so bad." I pictured her batting her eyes because she knew that would still work on him at her age.
"Melanie," I barked, "I already told you I'm not taking you! Not everything revolves around you."
"Girls," dad intervened. "Please don't fight."
"She's acting like a spoiled brat," I said.
"Gabriella," Dad spoke carefully. "Why don't you just stay in your room if you don't want to get along?"
I talked over my shoulder as I made my way back to my safe haven. "I can get along with her just fine when she's not tattling on me like a kindergartener."
I went to my room and struggled to find something to occupy me. I couldn't sit alone and be upset all day. It was the middle of the night in Hawaii, and therefore everybody I could talk to was asleep. I had already tried to distract myself all morning with Instagram and Netflix, but I couldn't ignore my suspicions fully.
I picked up my phone and called for answers.
"Convent of the Sacred Heart admissions office, how may I help you?"
Despite my awful mood and even worse intentions, I put on my best joyful customer service imitation. "Hi! This is Luana Kelekolio. I was calling to check on the status of my daughter's application."
"Give me just a moment while I look that up for you." After some typing on the other end, she spoke again. "It looks like the decision was made earlier this morning and the authorized user was notified."
"My ex-husband won't return my calls right now, and I'm so anxious to learn if she made it in. Could you please tell me what it said?"
"Unfortunately I am unable to open that file. It's closed in accordance with educational privacy rights."
I hung up the phone.
There had to have been a mistake, but my dad was too stubborn to confirm the results. I couldn't blame him for his doubts. After all, I was well-known for partying and dating and generally not opening a textbook. But this time was different. I wholeheartedly believe that I passed their test. There was no doubt in my mind, I just needed somebody somewhere to help me and dig up my correct results.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a bad idea crossed my mind. I knew it was stupid and risky and such a gross violation of privacy, but I didn't know what else to do. I needed to stay in New York, and confirming the test results was my only way.
So I went to the office, locked the door behind me, sat down at dad's desk, and opened up his email. I searched for the Convent and clicked the most recent email from this morning.
From: Admissions Office at The Sacred Heart Convent
To: Eduardo Montez
CC: Luana Kelekolio
Subject: Gabriella Montez
Mr. Eduardo Montez,
On behalf of The Convent of The Sacred Heart community, we are pleased to inform you of Gabriella Montez' acceptance into the Class of 2023.
In recognition of the exceptional writing ability displayed, the Convent cordially invites Gabriella to apply to the Wilsborough Writing Scholarship. If awarded, she will be granted $15,000 to be applied to tuition and books each semester until her graduation.
Thank you,
Henry P. Williams, PhD
Director of Admissions
To: Luana Kelekolio
From: Eduardo Montez
What do we do now?
To: Eduardo Montez
From: Luana Kelekolio
This doesn't change anything. Say whatever you need to, just get them both on a plane to Albuquerque. She'll be my problem after that.
To: Luana Kelekolio
From: Eduardo Montez
I'll have them on a flight by tomorrow night.
It was not what I expected or hoped to find, and I was still processing its implications when I printed the letter. The words remained the same on the page: acceptance. I held it for a while, just to believe that it was real. This was all I needed. It was my ammunition, my proof: undeniable, tangible proof. So why wasn't this enough? It wasn't the proof I was seeking. This was proof for something else entirely. This meant Dad knew I was accepted, but he conspired with my mother to lie to me...because he wanted to get rid of me.
As much as I hated Crystal, I knew this wasn't her fault. My father chose to put her above his first family. He was the one who didn't notice we were missing from the photos, and now he was the one who pushed Melanie and I out of the way of his new family. He was a liar, and catching him would still do nothing. I understood then that regardless of what I did for him, my father would find an excuse to ship us off to Mom.
There was no place left for us here.
Only boxes.