Chapter 3

The school day dragged on. Every ring of my phone, every announcement over the PA system, made me jump.

I couldn' t hide the letter forever. The school would be notified too.

Liam found me at lunch. "You okay? You look like you' ve seen a ghost."

"Just stressed," I said, trying for a smile. It felt weak.

"Any news yet?" he asked, his eyes kind.

"No. Nothing." A lie. The letter was a heavy weight in my bag.

Then, during last period, Mr. Henderson' s voice boomed from the intercom.

"Students and faculty, I have a wonderful announcement."

My blood ran cold.

"It gives me immense pleasure to share that our very own Ava Miller has been awarded the prestigious National Innovators Scholarship, a full ride to Stanford University!"

A smattering of applause in my classroom. My teacher beamed at me.

"Congratulations, Ava! That' s incredible!"

I felt faint. It was happening. Again.

Liam, from across the room, gave me a thumbs-up, a huge grin on his face.

I tried to smile back.

The rest of the day was a blur. Congratulations. Questions about Stanford.

My parents had called the school, apparently, to arrange a "small celebratory gathering" at our house that evening.

Mr. Henderson had told me, his voice full of pride. "Your parents are so thrilled, Ava. They want to share the joy."

Thrilled. Right.

I walked home, dreading every step.

The house looked normal. Suburban. Safe.

Inside, a few cars were already parked. Some neighbors, a couple of Mom' s colleagues.

And Liam. He was there, talking to my father. He smiled when he saw me.

"There' s the star!" he said.

Mother glided over, a champagne flute in her hand. "Ava, darling! We' re so proud."

Her eyes, however, held that same chilling glint I remembered from the nightmare.

Father put his arm around me. "Our brilliant daughter." His grip was a little too tight.

Grandma Beatrice watched from an armchair, a placid smile on her face.

Mr. Henderson arrived a few minutes later. "Ava! Wonderful news! Truly wonderful."

Mother waited until most of the small crowd was gathered in the living room.

Then she raised her glass. "A toast. To Ava. And her... achievement."

The word "achievement" sounded like an insult.

She took a sip. Then, her smile vanished.

"However," she said, her voice suddenly sharp, cutting through the polite murmurs. "There seems to be a misunderstanding."

Mr. Henderson looked confused. "Evelyn?"

Mother walked over to the mantelpiece, where the official scholarship letter – the one I hadn' t hidden well enough, or perhaps they' d received their own copy – was propped up.

She picked it up.

"This," she said, her voice dripping with contempt, "is a mistake."

And she tore it in half. Then again. And again.

Gasps filled the room.

Liam looked shocked. Mr. Henderson stepped forward. "Evelyn, what are you doing?"

"This scholarship was never meant for Ava," Father said, his voice low and menacing. He moved towards me.

"It was for Sophie!" Mother screamed, her face contorted with rage.

She lunged at me, nails out. I stumbled back.

Father grabbed my shoulders. "You selfish, deceitful girl!" He shook me, hard.

My head snapped back.

Grandma Beatrice just watched, her expression cold, approving.

"Stop it!" I screamed, terror flooding me. "Help me!"

I twisted out of Father' s grasp and ran.

Out the front door, into the street.

"Help! Somebody help me! They' re trying to hurt me!"

Neighbors peered out from their windows.

This was it. The public attack. Just like before, but not. This time, I was screaming for help.