Olivia continued.
“I cannot fail enough to fix that.”
The room went silent.
Diane cried immediately.
Olivia looked annoyed.
“Please don't.”
“Sorry.”
Diane wiped her face.
Dr. Kim looked toward Brooke.
“What did you hear?”
Brooke swallowed.
“That she thinks I wanted her to fail.”
Olivia shook her head.
“No.”
Dr. Kim raised one hand.
“Let Brooke finish.”
Brooke looked toward her stepsister.
“I did.”
Honest.
Ugly.
Good.
“Not forever.”
Brooke continued.
“Not like I wanted your life ruined.”
“But before the gala…”
She closed her eyes.
“I wanted one thing to go badly for you.”
Olivia stared.
Brooke continued.
“I had watched everyone praise that dress for months.”
“Mom.”
“Dad.”
“Mara.”
“People online when you posted process shots.”
“And I thought if it got damaged, maybe you would finally have a night where people looked at you the way they looked at me when I left school.”
Diane covered her mouth.
Michael’s face hardened.
Olivia remained still.
Brooke looked directly at her.
“I cut it because I wanted you embarrassed.”
There.
No accident.
No metaphor.
No softened language.
“I am sorry.”
Olivia swallowed.
Brooke continued.
“And I copied your sketches because I thought family meant I was allowed to be inspired by them.”
“That was the story at first.”
“Then I knew I was using things you had not given me.”
“I kept doing it.”
“I am sorry for that too.”
Olivia looked toward Dr. Kim.
“Do I have to say something?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then Olivia looked back at Brooke.
“I don't forgive you yet.”
Brooke nodded.
“Okay.”
“I might.”
“Okay.”
“I also might never let you in my room again.”
“That is fair.”
Michael shifted.
Olivia looked toward him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You did your dad face.”
“What dad face?”
“Everyone has faces.”
Dr. Kim smiled.
Michael did not.
Olivia continued.
“I want a lock.”
“You can have one.”
“No emergency key for Brooke.”
“Obviously.”
Brooke almost smiled.
Wrong moment.
She stopped.
Olivia saw.
For the first time in months, a tiny piece of normal entered.
Not reconciliation.
Recognition.
The first family dinner came nine months after the incident.
Thanksgiving.
Brooke almost did not come.
Olivia said she could.
Not invited enthusiastically.
Permitted.
Diane considered that enormous.
Michael made turkey.
Badly.
Brooke brought pie.
Store-bought.
Diane commented.
Brooke stared.
“Mom.”
Diane stopped.
“No critique.”
Everyone laughed.
Olivia did not show Brooke her new portfolio.
Brooke did not ask.
Boundaries could look boring.
Good.
At seventeen, Olivia applied to six design programs.
She got into four.
One rejected.
One waitlisted.
No family conspiracy.
No sabotaged mail.
Ordinary disappointment.
She chose a program in New York with a substantial scholarship.
Diane cried.
Brooke did not say: