“No.”
Then back to Nia.
“Do not make Kayla feel guilty because you have another activity.”
“Another activity?”
Nia clutched the packet tighter.
“It’s a scholarship.”
“I know.”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Rochelle became still.
Nia noticed.
“The winner gets twenty-five thousand toward high school and college.”
“I understand what a scholarship is.”
“And the top three get summer programs.”
“Nia.”
Rochelle’s voice sharpened.
“We are standing in a parking lot. I am not doing this here.”
Nia looked around.
Students moved toward buses.
Parents loaded backpacks.
Nobody seemed interested in them.
“Doing what?”
“Making everything a competition between you and your sister.”
Nia stared at her.
“I didn’t.”
“You just did.”
“No.”
“You said your event matters more.”
“I said you never come to mine.”
Rochelle’s face changed.
“That is not true.”
Nia laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“You missed the robotics exhibition.”
“I was working.”
“The district math award.”
“Kayla was sick.”
“The essay breakfast.”
“That was at seven in the morning.”
Nia stared.
Rochelle immediately regretted saying it.
Kayla lowered her head.
Nia whispered:
“You went to Kayla’s cheer breakfast at six-thirty.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Because I was volunteering.”
“You volunteered.”
Rochelle closed her eyes.
“Get in the car.”
Nia did not move.
Kayla whispered:
“Nia.”
Nia looked at the packet.
Then at her mother.
“I just wanted you to say you were proud of me.”
Rochelle’s expression softened.
“I am.”
“You didn’t even look.”
She held out the packet.
Rochelle stared.
“Nia.”
“Just look.”
“We are late.”
“Please.”
The last word changed something.
Rochelle snatched the packet.
Not violently.
Impatiently.
She opened the SUV door.
Then placed it on the rear seat.
It slid across the black leather and landed beside Kayla’s cheer bag.
“There.”
Nia stared.
“We’ll read it tonight.”
“You threw it.”
“I put it in the car.”
“You didn't even open it.”
“Nia.”
“You didn't.”
Rochelle’s voice sharpened.
“Enough.”
Nia’s eyes filled.
Kayla stepped closer.
“Nia, I’ll read it.”
“No.”
Nia wiped one cheek quickly.
“Forget it.”
She started toward the back seat.
A voice called from across the parking lot.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
Rochelle stopped.
Nia turned.
Dr. Evelyn Carter was walking toward them.
Bellmont Academy’s director of student affairs was sixty-one, tall, and almost always dressed as though someone might ask her to chair a meeting without warning. That afternoon she wore a burgundy blouse tucked into a black skirt and carried three folders against one arm.
Nia liked her.
Most students did.
Dr. Carter remembered names.
More importantly, she remembered what students had told her the previous time they spoke.
Rochelle’s posture changed immediately.
“Dr. Carter.”
“I’m glad I caught you.”
Rochelle forced a polite smile.
“We’re actually late.”
“This will only take a moment.”
Nia looked at Dr. Carter.
Something in the older woman’s expression made her nervous.
Dr. Carter glanced at the open SUV.
She saw the purple packet lying unopened on the seat.
Then she looked at Nia.
“Congratulations again.”
Nia tried to smile.