Chapter 3

Back at the dorm, I set the takeout containers on my desk.

I untied the plastic knot and lifted the lid off the top container.

Peanut chicken noodles.

The noodles were coated in thick peanut sauce, sprinkled with crushed peanuts.

I have a severe peanut allergy.

When I was eight, I ate a peanut butter cookie at a friend's house and my throat swelled up until I couldn't breathe. Ended up in the ER.

After that, we never had peanut butter in the house again.

But now, my mother had packed me a container full of peanuts.

I snapped the lid back on, gathered up all the containers underneath, and dumped them into the big trash bin at the end of the hallway.

Wednesday morning, Dr. Reed called me into her office.

"Claire, your teaching program application was approved."

She handed me a form.

"They need a mailing address. Once you graduate, the school will take back the dorm. There's still six weeks before you report to Red Creek. Where are you going to stay in the meantime?"

I sat with that form on a bench outside the academic building for a long time.

At seven that evening, I took the subway to Dad's.

Standing on the porch, I didn't reach for the key in my pocket. I rang the doorbell instead.

The door opened.

Aunt Rachel stood there in an apron.

Her eyes flickered when she saw me. Her hand didn't leave the doorknob.

"Claire? Your dad's not home from work yet."

"I need to see him about something."

"Come in and wait, then."

She pulled a pair of disposable slippers from the bottom of the entryway cabinet and dropped them on the floor.

I glanced at the shoe rack. My old cotton slippers, which used to be on the second shelf, were gone.

I stepped into the disposable slippers and went inside.

Toys were scattered across the living room couch and rug.

Sophie was in the middle of the rug, building a castle out of blocks. When she saw me approaching, she immediately threw her arms around it protectively.

"Don't touch my castle."

She warned me, lips pursed.

"I won't."

I sat down in the armchair beside her.

A silver frame sat in the middle of the coffee table.

Inside was a photo of the three of them at an amusement park.

Dad holding Sophie, Rachel leaning against his shoulder, all three of them beaming.

I wasn't in it.

Half an hour later, the door lock beeped.

Dad came in with his briefcase. His brow furrowed when he saw me on the couch.

"Why didn't you call first?"

I pulled the form out of my canvas bag and laid it flat on the coffee table.

"The school needs a temporary address. There are six weeks between graduation and when I leave for Montana. I need somewhere to stay."

Dad set down his briefcase and picked up the paper.

His expression shifted. His eyes drifted toward the kitchen.

Rachel came out carrying a plate of sliced fruit. She set it on the coffee table and wiped her hands.

"About that…"

She was just about to speak.

Dad cut her off and turned to me.

"Claire, Montana? What are you going to Montana for?"

"A teaching program. Two years."

He rubbed his hands together and sat down on the couch.

"About those six weeks… Your Aunt Rachel's sister just got divorced. She's coming to stay with us for a while, with her kids. We don't have a spare room anymore."

He avoided my eyes and looked at the fruit plate.

"Could you… stay at your mom's for now?"

The living room was silent.

Only the sound of Sophie's tower collapsing, blocks clattering to the floor.

"Okay."

I folded the form and tucked it back into my bag.

"Claire, it's not that Dad doesn't care about you."

He straightened up.

"It's just that—"

"I know."

I stood up.

At the entryway, I slipped off the disposable slippers and dropped them into the trash bin beside the door.

Guest slippers.

Once the guest leaves, they get thrown out.

Because there were no shoes here for me anymore.