She Got Five Suitcase, I Got A Broken Backpack Chapter 07
I looked at the message and, with practiced ease, added this
number to my block list too.
Less than five minutes after I hung up, my phone exploded
like a bomb. Call after call from unrecognized numbers–
every area code from my hometown–came flooding in, one
wave after another.
I set my phone to silent, tossed it on the desk, and flipped
open my lab data to keep working.
The screen lit up, then went dark. Lit up, went dark. The
whole torment dragged on for over half an hour.
When they finally realized I wasn’t answering unknown
numbers, they switched tactics.
On my text app, a distant aunt I hadn’t spoken to in years
suddenly sent a string of long voice messages.
“Tessa, how could you do something so unforgivable? Your
parents raised you all these years, and you went behind their
backs and applied to a school that far away? Your little sister
has no one to take care of her now–she cries every single
day! Come back right now and apologize!”
Then Mom, using my uncle’s account:
Mom: [Tessa Brooks! You ungrateful, backstabbing brat! Do
you have any idea Mia got scalded by hot soup in the dining
hall today?! Why did you secretly change your applications?
Are you so determined to dodge taking care of your sister
that you’d throw your entire family away? Do you have a
single shred of conscience left?!)
Right after, my brother’s texts came through too:
Simon: [Tessa Brooks, quit playing dead! You think getting
into Stanford puts you above me now? Every resource this
family has belongs to Mia. You won’t get a single cent–not
one penny! Get your ass back here and apologize to Mia right
now, or I swear I’ll make your life at Stanford absolute hell!]
I stared at the endless accusations crowding my screen, and
all I felt was a bleak, bone–deep calm.
They were furious–not because they missed me, but because
the obedient puppet they’d controlled for eighteen years had
grown legs and run away.
Late that night, just as I left the lab, my high school
homeroom teacher sent me another text.
Tessa, watch yourself. Your dad was in my office today
making threats–he said even if he has to tie you up and drag
you back, he will. Your brother called in a favor with someone
at the school district. They’re digging for your specific dorm
building and room number at Stanford.”
I typed back, “Thank you, Teacher,” and powered my phone off completely.
Let them dig.
Stanford wasn’t their family–run business. The security here
and the advisors weren’t going to let them push me around
the way everyone back home did.
The next few days passed in orderly routine. Classes by day,
tutoring in the evenings, helping in the lab on weekends.
Freed from the Brooks family’s mental and emotional drain, I
felt unstoppable.
But I’d underestimated their obsession with control. And I’d
underestimated just how completely Mia’s life would collapse
without me as her full–time servant.
Friday afternoon. I’d just finished a tutoring session and was
heading back to campus when my advisor called, her voice urgent.
Tessa Brooks, where are you right now?”
The gravity in her tone was unmistakable.
I’m on the subway back to school. What’s going on?”
“Get to the security office on the ground floor of the
administration building. Right now.” She drew a deep breath.
Three people claiming to be your parents and brother are
here, causing a scene in the academic wing. They’re saying
you stole money from the family and ran away. They’re
demanding the university expel you immediately and release
you into their custody to take you home.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
To force me back into being Mia’s personal blood bag, they’d
actually sink so low as to slander me with theft–something
that could destroy my entire future.
“I’m on my way.”
I hung up, turned, and strode toward the exit. If they’d
traveled two thousand miles just to humiliate themselves in
public, then I would oblige them.