CHAPTER 3: SECURE THE KEYS

The word hit me like a tornado. ‘Filled? What did she mean by filled?’ This couldn't be true; I needed this job. This was supposed to be the last lifeline; it was the medicine in my mother's veins. It was the roof over our heads.

"Maria, wait," Mrs. Gabe pleaded. "I spoke to Helena this afternoon. She said—"

"And I am speaking to you now!" Maria retorted, with a cold, sharp tone.

"The family decided on a professional from the city agency. We don't have time for charity cases." She said as she pulled the door shut.

"Please," Mrs. Gabe whispered, but it was too late.

"Maria? Who is at the door?" a soft voice called out from the hallway behind her.

Maria stiffened; she didn't close the door, but she didn't open it further either. A woman appeared behind her in the doorway; her figure was elegant, and I could smell her rich vanilla scent from where I stood. 

As she approached, Maria opened the door wide. The lady turned to  Mrs. Gabe. "Eleanor," she said calmly.

"Helena." Mrs. Gabe stepped forward, her hand tightening on my shoulder. "I'm sorry to come unannounced. This is the girl I called about. Clara Adene."

Helena King looked at me. Her eyes moved over me slowly; she read me from head to toe. I couldn't tell if her gaze was cold, cruel, or something in between. Then she turned back to Mrs. Gabe. "You're confident in her."

"Completely," Mrs. Gabe replied.

We all stood silent. Maria stood like a statue, her hand still on the doorknob.

"We had another candidate," Helena said, almost to herself.

"I know," Mrs. Gabe replied. "I'm asking you to choose this one. I'm asking you to trust me like you have these years."

Helena looked at me one more time, that same unreadable assessment. Then she finally stepped back from the door. "She starts tomorrow," she said. "Six p.m."

Maria's face changed instantly; her frown was darker than her uniform.

"Thank you so much, Helena." Mrs. Gabe said.

I opened my mouth to say the same, but Helena had already turned and walked back into the house before the words came out. There was no tour, no handshake, and no welcome speech. Just a command to resume tomorrow, and honestly, that was enough.

---

The bus ride home took forty minutes and stopped two blocks from our building. I walked the rest of the way in the cold, moving through the usual route.

I got to the door, put my key in the lock, and turned it; it didn't budge. I twisted harder and pushed inward, but the lock stayed tight. I pushed and twisted the key with all my strength till it almost broke. I shook the door with force; still nothing; the locks had been changed.

I stepped back, sweat racing down my whole body, feeling furious and weak. I looked up, staring at the building as if it might explain itself, then I heard a car engine ignite and turned around. Mr. Chase's grey sedan was pulling out of the small lot beside the building.

I ran back down quickly, got in front of his car without thinking, stood in front of his headlights, and lifted my hands, like an idiot. He slammed on the brakes; thank heavens he was quick, or I would have been crushed.

"Are you crazy, girl?" He said, whining down. "I warned you, didn't I?"

"I know," I said, trying to catch my breath. "I know you did. I have money inside, cash. Please just let me in for ten minutes. I'll pay you right now."

He looked at me for a long moment, then turned off the engine. "Ten minutes," he said firmly, then threw the keys at me. 

I caught them against my chest, ran back up, and went straight to my room, to the shelf where my piggy bank had been sitting for years. I smashed it on the floor; it shattered into a hundred jagged pieces. I counted every bill, every dollar, every penny, every dime that spilled out: twenties, tens, fives, and ones, all rounding up to $725.52.

‘This isn't enough.’ I thought, ‘I need more; there has to be more.’

My brain was moving fast, clicking through every conversation I'd ever had with my mother. Then boom, I remembered it: Mom had a box, too. I went to her room, found it tucked deep under her bed, and broke it open.

The cash inside scattered across the floor in a mess of crumpled paper. It totaled $1,344.48; combined, it was $2,070. ‘Thank goodness,’ I exhaled. It was enough for the outstanding rent.

I rushed toward the door, down the stairs, but a sudden thought gripped me, and I stopped. The sad realization almost made me cry; this was everything. Every single cent we had in the world was in my hands. If I gave him everything, I'd be stranded, no money for school, the bus, or food.

I took out a handful of bills; I didn't count them. I shoved the rest into my bag, ran back to the car, and put the scrambled bills into his hands. He counted the money with the interior light on, then folded it into his breast pocket and looked at me.

"That's just twelve hundred, miss. You're eight hundred short."

"I know." I tried to sound steady. "I'll have the rest by month's end, and this month's rent too."

"Miss Adene, I want my complete rent or else—"

"Sir, please," I cut him off. "My mother's in the hospital; this is all I have. Just give me until the end of the month. I have a job now; it pays well."

He looked at me with eyes of pity and cruelty. He knew he had the power to ruin me, but he also knew a vacant apartment wouldn't pay him anything.

"End of the month," I begged again. "I promise, please."

"Keep the keys," he muttered, wound up his windows, and drove off into the dark.

I sighed heavily, walked back upstairs, locked the door behind me, and sat on the edge of the bed. The weight of my world was finally crushing down on my shoulders. I sobbed loudly this time; the sound echoed through the walls of our cramped little apartment.

Today had drained every bit of will I had left. I am a debtor now; I owe Mrs. Gabe, I owe Mr. Chase, I owe the hospital. I had just spent my mother's savings and still owed rent. She had saved that money slowly, one bill at a time, and I had just handed it to a man for our keys.

‘But we still had a door that opened,’ I thought to myself. We had a home for her to come to when she recovered, whenever that would be. And I had a job now, on probation, but a job still.

I took a deep breath, wiped my face, plugged my phone into the charger, and connected the Wi-Fi. Immediately, the beeps started; notifications flooded in from everywhere.

The group chat, Sterling Heights Cheer, had twenty-seven new messages. I was too tired to read them all, but tomorrow was the school's first game; I had to know the call time. As I opened the app, the last notification made my heart stop.

—Cheer group chat: Sloane removed you from Sterling Heights Cheer.

Removed me? Why? The unread messages from earlier were still there, so I could see them. They were just routine reminders. There was no explanation, no proper reason, nothing. Another beep followed; Maya's notification slid down from the top of the screen.

—Maya: Clara. Sloane just removed you from the squad. She said you won't be cheering with us tomorrow. What happened?