“Last summer.”
She had been accepted to a six-week engineering program at Georgia Tech.
Rochelle told her they could not afford the $4,800 fee.
Nia had cried for three days.
Then accepted it.
A private-school kid complaining about not affording camp felt selfish.
Now she understood.
There had been money.
Her money.
Restricted specifically for opportunities like that.
Rochelle whispered:
“I thought the program was too expensive.”
“It wasn't your money!”
Nia’s voice cracked.
Camille stood and wrapped an arm around her.
Nia did not resist.
Rochelle cried.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
Nia shook her head.
“I don't want sorry.”
“What do you want?”
Nia did not know.
That frightened her more.
Dr. Carter ended the meeting.
Not because anything was resolved.
Because Nia was twelve and had absorbed enough adult failure before ten in the morning.
The authorization form was signed that day.
Not by Rochelle.
Camille still possessed legal authority as co-trustee and, after reviewing the governing documents, the trust attorney confirmed either trustee could approve participation in scholarship applications because no withdrawal was required.
Nia would attend the state showcase.
The remaining trust funds were frozen temporarily pending review.
Rochelle left Dr. Carter’s office alone.
Darren stayed.
He called work.
Took the day off.
Then he took Nia to breakfast.
Not because pancakes solved betrayal.
Because nobody had eaten.
Nia sat across from him in a diner twenty minutes from school.
She stirred syrup without eating.
Darren waited.
Finally:
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“How do I know?”
The question hurt him.
He nodded.
“You don't.”
Nia looked up.
Darren continued:
“You have no reason to trust me just because I’m upset too.”
That was the right answer.
He pulled out his phone.
“I can show you statements from my accounts.”
“I can show you where I believed cheer money came from.”
“If Camille and the lawyer want them, they get everything.”
Nia stared.
“Are you leaving Mom?”
Darren looked toward the window.
“I don’t know.”
She hated that phrase now.
He noticed.
“Sorry.”
Nia almost smiled.
He continued:
“I am not making that decision today.”
Better.
“What about Kayla?”
“What about her?”
“Is she going to hate me?”
“No.”
“You don't know.”
Darren thought.
“True.”
He put the phone down.
“But Kayla loves you.”
Nia looked away.
“She got my money.”
“She didn't know.”
“That doesn't make me not mad.”
“You can be mad.”
“At her?”
“Yes.”
Darren’s answer surprised her.
“Feelings don't have to be fair immediately.”
He leaned forward.
“What you do with them does.”
Nia stared.
That sounded like something Dr. Carter would say.
“Did you learn that in therapy?”
“No.”
“Should.”
Darren laughed.
For the first time that morning, Nia did too.
Kayla learned that evening.
Not every financial detail.
Enough.
She sat on the floor of Nia’s room holding one pom-pom because she had carried it upstairs without noticing.
“So Mom paid cheer from your dad’s money?”
“Some.”
Kayla stared at the floor.
“I can quit.”
Nia looked at her.
“What?”
“Cheer.”
“No.”
“I will.”
“No.”
Kayla’s eyes filled.
“I don’t want it if it was stolen.”