Shared Custody, but I'm Nobody's Child

My homeroom teacher, Raymond Dunn, asked me, "Have you discussed it with your parents yet?"

I typed, "Nope. But I'm 18 already. I can take responsibility for the decisions I make."

I kept my head down and stared at my phone, not saying anything.

Zane Powell glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow. "I think Dane doesn't want to go to our grandparents' house."

He was right. I really didn't want to go.

If I stayed there, I'd have to get up before dawn to make breakfast for everyone, then do laundry for my two cousins after school.

I didn't want to do that again.

My mom, Martha Zane, frowned. "Dane, can't you think about us for once? This is a critical time for my promotion. I'll be busy with work. If I don't do a good job taking care of you, you'll get upset and ignore me again."

My dad, Jim Powell, nodded. "Exactly. Dane has always had a temper. Last year, I missed his parent-teacher conference, and he gave me the cold shoulder for a whole week. Anyone who didn't know better would think he was the one paying my bills."

Mom shook her head, clearly disappointed. "Zane just started high school. Your dad wanted to see how he was doing, so he went to your brother's parent-teacher conference. Why do you have to be so difficult?"

I let go of the phone case, my nails having left little marks all over it. I looked up at them. "Oh, is sophomore year really that important? Then how come no one came to my parent-teacher conference when I was a sophomore?"

Mom averted my gaze at first, but she quickly regained her composure. "Zane was a freshman then. Of course we have to prioritize him first."

Dad nodded. "Seriously? You're still bringing up the past over this? Freshman year is way more important than sophomore year."

I couldn't stomach another bite, dropping my cutlery onto the table. "Zane and I weren't even at the same school, and our conferences weren't even on the same day. Stop making excuses. The truth is neither of you really cared about me!"

Mom didn't know what to say, while Dad tried to wash his hands of it. "You weren't living with me that year. You can't blame me for not showing up."

Zane clanged his fork against the bowl. "That's enough, Dane. We only get to eat together like this around New Year's and when school starts. Why are you bringing all this up now?

"Maybe Mom was just busy with work and forgot. It's just a parent-teacher conference. Do you really have to hold it against her?"

Just a parent-teacher conference?

It wasn't just one. It was ten years of missed parent-teacher conferences.

Even before my parents divorced, there had already been times when they were no-shows at my parent-teacher conferences.

Last year, a girl who helped handle financial aid applications pulled me aside. "Dane, this might be a little rude, but I just want to make sure. Is your family having money problems? Do you want to apply for financial aid?"

I was confused.

She lowered her voice. "One of your middle school classmates said you might not have anyone at home, so I thought I'd ask if you needed help."

So basically, she thought I was an orphan.

My face felt hot, but I wasn't angry or offended. I just felt sad.

For years, none of my classmates had ever seen my parents at school—not at parent-teacher conferences, not even when a new school year started. So people noticed, and they started making up all kinds of stories.

The girl had always been nice to me. I knew she was only trying to help.

I gave her a small smile. "I'm not an orphan. I don't need any financial aid. Thanks for asking."

Because of all this, I kept reminding Dad last year that he had to come to my parent-teacher conference.

He said he would, but when he got to school, he went straight to the sophomore building instead.

I watched him leave through the window. The joy I felt when I first saw him slowly turned into disappointment as he walked away.

For years, I just let it go. I just wanted to keep the peace at home. But somehow, I was still the one they called bad-tempered and petty.

Looking back, I should've stopped putting up with them years ago.

I accidentally brushed against my screen, and it lit up. The words "Marlow College" appeared before my eyes. I swallowed the lump in my throat and smiled.

It didn't matter. I wouldn't have to put up with it anymore.