“Sometimes … I just really miss being me.”

Dad’s words hit hard, as if he slapped me. Which he would never, ever do, but it feels like what he says digs right down to my bones.

My shock must show, because Dad stops and stares at me. “Emms, wait,” he says quickly, moving toward me. “I didn’t mean that.”

But that’s the thing about letting the cat out of the bag. You can’t just wrestle it back in again. His words hang between us, cold and horribly honest.

“Sorry if I’ve been inconvenient.” The words taste ugly in my mouth as I let them fly free. “You think Mom would have thought giving up was the way to get anywhere?”

His face turns to stone. “What did you say?”

Every sensible brain cell I have left screams at me to shut it, but I can’t stop. “How is up and quitting on your class being a team? Were you even going to tell me, or did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I’m some clueless little kid?”

For one awful moment, I think Dad’s going to put his fist through the door. He shoves it open and goes inside, but reappears fast, carrying a sledgehammer and a pair of snips.

“Do you?” I persist. “You know I can work on cars. You know I can ride down ramps. You’re the one who taught me! What happened?”

“Get. Inside. Now.”

He’s never talked to me this way. Not even close. Fear floods me, and my stomach tries to claw its way up my throat.

I go. I spin around and fly across the path and up the ramp to the house as fast as I can go. Not quite fast enough to get there before I hear Dad’s sledge slam into one of the vertical supports of the ramp he built.

Even though I knew deep down what he was about to do, that first hollow crunch of collapsing metal takes my heart down right alongside it.

At least I make it inside—just barely—before I start crying.

27

The Divine Right

I haven’t talked to Dad.

I haven’t texted Devontae to apologize.

Ale’s beekeeping test was yesterday, but I haven’t had the guts to message her and see how it went.

I definitely don’t spend way too much time pointlessly staring at the raw spot in the field where the ramp used to sit.

School on Friday was a blur. Ale looked away every time I tried to catch her eye, and I used up half my headspace making sure not to cross paths with Devontae in the hallways.

On the bright side, having half my friends angry at me made it way easier to avoid talking to people. It took everything I had to get myself from class to class and out the door at the end of the day.

When Nonny stopped by the house this afternoon and handed me a folded-up stack of money, I didn’t resist. Not even when she told me it was to buy a “suitable dress” for the check-presenting ceremony.