***Alissa Blake***
I stood still for a few minutes, staring at the peanut butter sandwich while replaying the information I’d seen on TV in my head.
Morgan stayed quiet, which was a good thing. She had started asking inconvenient questions about what cocaine was, and I was not in the mood for that kind of conversation. I just turned off the TV after she turned it back on, driven by curiosity like any normal kid.
I understood that. I suddenly realized I was good at putting myself in her shoes, maybe because I felt so deeply that she was growing up with the same parents I had.
It was too much for me—I felt that more and more. It was like a weight pressing down on me, getting heavier and heavier, leaving me numb.
I moved my limbs, shoved the damn sandwich aside, and took a deep breath. An email came in. The damn contract.
Fuck, it was too much. I needed to think, or scream, or punch a wall until it crumbled. I needed to do something, so I had to move.
I decided to take Morgan to school early and then fry my brain on my own.
"Come on, I’ll take you to school."
"But it’s still early," Morgan complained, pouting.
"Better early than late." I tried to act like I didn’t find it funny how she threw a tantrum, picking up her drawings off the floor with pure frustration.
In the end, she just shrugged and went to grab her backpack.
Once outside, the cold wind helped clear my head—exactly what I needed after the flood of news reports about Holden Young.
The not-so-sober version of him.
I couldn’t afford to worry about Holden. He had made his choices. And I had mine to make too.
Morgan’s school was only a few blocks away. It was one of those old buildings, with the typical orange bricks, very traditional. It reminded me a little of the school I went to, and just that memory alone made my stomach turn.
Morgan hopped along on one foot, completely carefree. As if nothing was wrong.
Nothing was wrong for her.
At least, not that she understood. Which wasn’t the case for me.
"There, that’s my teacher!"
I looked up and saw a woman sitting on a bench, holding a binder on her lap. She looked about my parents’ age, maybe a little younger, but had that exhausted look—like someone who had dealt with more problems than she should have.
I knew how to recognize those things.
I guess the broken can spot their own.
When Morgan pulled me toward her, the teacher lifted her eyes, seeming even more drained at the thought of having to exchange words with an endlessly energetic kid and the stranger standing beside her.
"Hello, Morgan."
"You must be…"
"Alissa."
She blinked a few times. "Her sister?" She almost sounded too surprised.
I nodded.
She looked from Morgan to me, as if processing the information, and for a brief second, her face hardened before she forced a smile.
Okay, that’s weird.
"She talks about you a lot."
I just smiled, not really sure what to say. My chest tightened a little at the thought of that, and I still couldn’t admit why.
The teacher closed her binder and extended a hand. "Ah, where are my manners… I’m Miss Callahan."
I shook her hand quickly, but something in her expression put me on alert.
Morgan was already distracted, picking up small rocks from the ground and tossing them into the air.
I took the opportunity to clear up my doubts.
"Can I ask you something?"
Miss Callahan hesitated for a second before nodding.
I lowered my voice and glanced around—I didn’t want Morgan to hear. She was small, but she wasn’t stupid.
"My parents… do they come here often?"
She averted her gaze briefly before answering:
"They come whenever they’re called."
In other words, never by choice.
"And Morgan? How is she at school?"
She looked at the girl, then back at me.
"She’s smart. Full of energy. But…"
"But…?"
"Sometimes she tries too hard to please."
I knew exactly what that was like.
"Is that… a problem?"
She hesitated. "Not exactly. But kids who try too hard usually carry something, you know…"
Miss Callahan seemed to notice my reaction and immediately adjusted her posture.
"Look, I don’t like getting involved in family matters. What happens at home isn’t the school’s problem unless… unless it directly affects the child’s well-being."
The way she said that pissed me off.
"Are you saying you’re not going to say anything?"
"I’m saying I don’t have anything to say, Alissa."
She glanced around quickly, as if checking to see if someone was watching. I felt my patience wearing thin.
"If something’s wrong, I need to know."
Miss Callahan ran a hand over her binder and looked at Morgan again, who was still distracted.
"I don’t know if I can help you."
"Don’t know or don’t want to?"
She took a deep breath, as if debating whether to continue this conversation. Then, without looking directly at me, she opened her binder and pulled out a business card.
"Call me."
She took Morgan’s hand with a smile that didn’t even seem forced and gave me one last look before walking away quickly.
I stood there, holding the card.
Something was wrong.