Chapter 1

The bus had gone quite a distance before I finally stopped looking back.

Dad’s battered old car had turned down another street.

My stepsister, Ruby Gisondo, was in the backseat, wrapped in his winter coat and holding a cup of hot chocolate.

I looked down at my hands, red from the cold.

That morning, Dad had promised to pick me up after school.

He had sounded so certain. “I’ll be there. Cross my heart.”

However, everyone else had already left, and he had yet to show up.

I waited forty minutes before boarding the bus on my own.

It was almost eight by the time I got home.

All that remained on the dining table was half a plate of cold pasta, with a few pieces of overcooked broccoli mixed in.

My stepmother, Freya Gisondo, was blow-drying Ruby’s hair.

She barely glanced up when I came in.

“There’s food in the kitchen. Heat it up yourself, and keep the noise down. It was Ruby’s first day at her new school. Some kids asked why she didn’t have a dad, and she cried all the way home.”

Dad was kneeling beside Ruby, drying her wet shoes with a cloth.

At Freya’s words, he paused.

“From now on, if anyone asks, tell them I’m your dad.”

Ruby threw her arms around him. Her eyes were red from crying.

“But you’re Charlotte’s dad!”

Dad immediately looked at me.

He looked apologetic, but there was a silent plea in his eyes, too.

Once again, I was supposed to step aside.

I said nothing and went into the kitchen.

The pasta had stuck together in a solid clump.

I had barely taken a few bites when Dad came into the kitchen.

“Charlotte, I didn’t mean to leave you waiting today. Ruby was crying so hard at school she could barely breathe. I was afraid something was seriously wrong.”

He pulled a pair of knitted gloves from his pocket.

They were red, with two little white pompoms sewn onto the cuffs.

“You’re always saying your hands are cold, aren’t you? I picked these up while I was out on a delivery.”

I had barely grazed them when Ruby appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“They’re so pretty.”

She stared at the gloves and sniffled.

“My dad used to buy me things like that, too.”

Dad froze with the gloves still in his hand.

Ruby did not reach for them. She just lowered her head and said quietly, “It’s okay. Charlotte has a dad. I don’t.”

Dad’s expression turned nervous at once.

He turned to me. His voice strained as he said, “Charlotte…”

I pulled my hand back. “Give them to her.”

He looked visibly relieved and quickly handed the gloves to Ruby.

“Here you go. I’ll buy you things like this from now on.”

Ruby smiled through her tears and put them on right in front of me.

They fit perfectly.

Dad stroked her hair. Only then did he remember me.

“I’ll get you a nicer pair next time.”

“Okay.”

I lowered my head and went back to eating my pasta.

Dad asked, “What would you like for dinner tomorrow? I’ll make it for you.”

I picked up the last piece of cold broccoli.

“Anything’s fine.”

His promises meant nothing anymore.

That night, I checked my piggy bank.

There was $632 inside.

I counted it twice, then wrote everything down in a notebook.

[Train ticket to the state capital: $186]

[A place to stay: cost still unknown]

[Money to live on: as much as possible]

I closed the notebook.

Starting now, I had to save up for a home of my own.