Chapter 2

2

I told Mr. Jones not to tell my mom and left the school.

On my way home, I ran into Brittany.

She'd always been the measuring stick against which my relatives compared me. Plain-looking, not particularly talented, and fond of spreading rumors about me at school. The only thing she had going for her was her grades, which were always a notch below mine.

In my past life, she took my spot at Stanford. At her graduation party, she invited my mom and me.

My mom, holding Brittany's acceptance letter, said, "Brittany's so impressive. Unlike our Ashley, stuck in community college."

Brittany and her mom rushed to comfort my mom. "It's all thanks to your kindness. If it weren't for you, who knows where Brittany would be."

I couldn't stand it and left.

Now, Brittany smirked as she walked toward me. "Ashley, where were you? Don't tell me you were with Mr. Jones again?"

She gasped dramatically, then lowered her voice. "You know, student-teacher relationships are frowned upon."

Brittany had relentlessly spread rumors that Mr. Jones and I were having an affair since sophomore year, claiming my guaranteed admission was because of it. The school dealt with it, but since her grades were decent, she wasn't expelled.

That only emboldened her. Every time she saw Mr. Jones and me, she'd make suggestive noises, even in class.

I ignored her and continued walking.

She giggled behind me, her eyes full of malice.

I walked in the door to a barrage of complaints.

"Ashley! I told you to do the dishes! Why are they still there? Girls are so useless! Your own mother has to cover for you. What man is going to put up with you?"

My mom continued ranting as she shoved a dishcloth into my hands.

I smirked and shoved the dishcloth into Kevin's mouth.

"Kevin, you've been here for two months. Getting a little too comfortable, aren't you? Eating and sleeping all day. I think you've got the wrong mom. You're more her kid than I am."

Kevin gagged, trying to spit out the dishcloth, only pushing it further into his mouth.

I clapped my hands together. "That's the toilet rag, by the way."

Chaos erupted. My mom rushed over and yanked the rag out of Kevin's mouth. "Kevin, honey, are you okay?"

She whirled around, glaring at me. "You little slut! If anything happens to Kevin, you're dead!"

I discreetly stopped the recording on my phone and walked to my room.

My mom loved playing the "good person" for everyone, but what kind of good person calls their own daughter a slut?

I locked my door, ignoring the pounding from outside, and crawled into bed for a good night's sleep.

The next morning, I woke up to commotion outside my door. My mom had, of course, broadcast yesterday's events to the entire neighborhood.

The neighbors, all beneficiaries of her "generosity," naturally took her side.

I tuned them out and packed my things.

Then I called my dad.

My parents divorced years ago. I stayed with my mom because I felt bad for her.

My dad worked out of state, but he sent $6000 a month in child support, directly to my mom's account since I was a minor.

I never saw a penny of it. My clothes were hand-me-downs from families with kids, and I only ate decent meals when Kevin was around.

My mom's excuse? "It's because I'm such a good person that the neighbors give you their old clothes."

Afraid of upsetting her, I hadn't called my dad since the divorce. Over time, he assumed I didn't want to talk to him, so he only called occasionally.

Now, I told him everything. He wanted to come get me immediately, but I talked him down. It wasn't time yet.