“Hmph,” is all he says, but I can tell he believes me.

“Anyway,” I continue, more quietly. Sincerely. “I’m really sorry things turned out the way they did. I just... When Andrew offered me the money, all I could think of was how you and Mama were struggling to pay for school—how you were struggling because of me. At the time, his offer seemed like the quickest solution to everything. Like completing the task might somehow allow me to pay you guys back.” I swallow and press my hands together to keep from fidgeting. Every word feels like pulling teeth. “But I was being irrational, and greedy, and just...incredibly dumb. And I understand if—if you can’t forgive me, or if you plan on being disappointed in me for all of eternity, but... I wanted to say I’m sorry, Baba. That’s all.”

Baba takes a deep breath, and I hold mine, anticipating yet another lecture. But it doesn’t come.

Instead, he places a gentle hand on my head, briefly, the way he used to when I was a kid, whenever I was scared or injured or couldn’t fall asleep at night. When I look up in surprise, all the anger is gone from his eyes.

“Alice,” he says. “Your Mama and I don’t work hard for you to repay us. We work hard so that you can have a better life. An easier life. And sending you to Airington—that was our choice. Spending our income on your school fees—that was also our choice. In no way should you feel obligated to take on the burden of our decisions for us. Is that clear?”

To my embarrassment, my throat constricts, the basin of my heart overflowing, spilling into hope. There is so much stubborn hope.

I manage a small nod, and Baba smiles at me.

Maybe everything will be okay, I think.

“Speaking of Airington...” Baba pulls his hand back. Rests it on his lap. “They’ve already passed on the new information to Peter Oh’s parents. Since you apparently play a more minor role in the incident than they initially thought, they’ve chosen not to press charges.”

“But?” I press, sensing the shift in his tone.

“Peter’s parents are not pressing charges...but they are pressuring the school to make you leave once this semester is over. And based on my call with them earlier, I believe the school would like that as well.”

Oh.

I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for the anger and panic to hit with full force, the questions to go off in my brain like a string of firecrackers: What will I do next? Who will I be without Airington?

And while I do feel all those things, dully, an unexpected calm washes over me. A kind of resignation. Deep down, I’d suspected something like this was coming; there was no way I could walk away from a crime of this magnitude completely unscathed.

“I understand,” I say, and the steadiness of my own voice surprises me. I sound calm, confident like Chanel or Henry. In a weird way, after hitting rock bottom and confronting Andrew and standing up to a representative of the school board, I feel ready to take on anything. Or survive anything, at least. “We’ll work something out.”