Chapter 3

The next morning, Dad called me into his study.

His computer was open. He pointed to a bank transfer.

“Why did you only send five hundred this month?”

I sent money home every month. Sometimes a thousand. Sometimes more. Paying for Freya’s camera yesterday had taken more than half my savings. After that, five hundred was all I could scrape together to send them.

“I’ve had more expenses lately.”

“What expenses? You live alone. Doesn’t the institute give you a housing allowance?”

It covered half the rent.

I still had to pay the other half, along with food, gas, and my yearly herbalist license renewal.

I’d never gone through those costs with them.

Dad had already closed the banking page.

“Make up the difference next month. Your sister wants to take a photography course. You should help her with that, too.”

“How much?”

“Seven hundred and fifty. She’ll cover the other half.”

Fifteen hundred for the camera.

Seven hundred and fifty for the course.

Thirty-six hundred for the necklace they’d just given her.

I looked at Dad and wondered how much they thought I earned.

“Freya makes more than I do.”

He took off his glasses. His face hardened.

“Your sister has more expenses. You spend all day at the institute. What do you need to spend money on?”

“Families help each other. Do you have to keep score?”

So I went without a new coat. I kept wearing shoes that needed replacing. And she got another lens.

Why should I?

I never asked.

I was leaving soon anyway. They’d only call me petty. I’d stopped expecting them to think about what I needed. I didn’t want another argument.

“All right.”

As I left the study, I heard him call Freya.

“I justed talked to Tessa about your photography course. Just ask her for the money.”

She sounded delighted.

“I knew she wouldn’t say no.”

That afternoon, I went out for groceries.

At the candy aisle, I reached for Freya’s favorite chocolate out of habit. My fingers touched the wrapper. Then I pulled my hand back.

I stood there for a moment before picking up a bag of moonberry candies. My favorite.

After a brief hesitation, I put them in my basket.

For the first time since I was eight, I’d chosen a snack just for myself.

When I got home, Mom was looking through Freya’s printed photos.

One showed strings of lights around a statue of the Moon Goddess. Maple leaves covered the stone steps.

“We should frame this one,” Mom said, showing it to me. “It would look lovely over the fireplace.”

Our family portrait hung there now.

Dad had an arm around Mom. Freya stood in front of them. I was at the edge, with only half of one shoulder showing.

Mom had said the shop had cropped it wrong.

She’d never had it reframed.

I glanced at it, then looked away.

Mom kept going through the prints. She pulled one out.

It showed me from behind, washing strawberries in the kitchen. My sleeves were rolled to my elbows. Dirty roasting pans sat beside the sink.

“Why did this one get printed? Throw it out. The background’s a mess.”

The background wasn’t the problem.

It’s because I was in it.

After dinner, Freya sat down with Mom to choose a photography course.

“This instructor’s filmed festivals for loads of packs. His classes fill up fast.”

“Then take his class,” Mom said. “Don’t settle for less just to save money.”

She didn’t look at me when she said it. But the money would come out of my account.

Their voices filled the living room. They were so close, always together.

I sat alone at the table among the uncleared dishes and finished my bag of moonberry candies.

They were a little sour.

My eyes stung, too.

At ten, I locked my bedroom door and pulled my suitcase from the bottom of the closet.

Two changes of clothes. My laptop. My herbalist license. The work documents from the Silver Moon Pack.

The paperwork had been ready for three months.

I’d only signed the agreement two days ago.

The suitcase was still half empty.

I opened a drawer, looked inside, and closed it again. There was nothing else I needed to take.

My phone lit up.

Freya had texted. “When can you send the course money? I need to pay the deposit before Friday.”

Friday.

By then, I should have reported for work with the Silver Moon Pack.

“We’ll talk later.”

She sent back a heart.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

My flight was at two thirty tomorrow.

Everyone would be out in the morning. Freya was meeting her friends. Our parents were going to my uncle’s for a family meal.

This was my last night in this bed.

Fifteen years ago, I’d lain here at eight years old and cried myself to sleep.

Freya had come in that night and left a moonberry candy beside my pillow.

When I found it the next morning, I’d thought she felt sorry for me.

Now I wondered if that had been the only time she’d felt guilty.

But whatever that candy had meant, it couldn’t make up for fifteen years.