Chapter 2

Zoey's POV

The final parent-teacher conference of high school was scheduled for a Friday afternoon. It was the crucial one—the meeting where teachers laid out realistic college prospects.

I gave Daniel and Melissa a heads-up a week in advance.

"You're going to the school thing on Friday, Daniel," Melissa said through the phone's speaker.

"I can't. I've got back-to-back meetings," Daniel fired back. "You go. Your schedule is wide open."

"Wide open? Are you kidding me? I'm taking Grace dress shopping! Her eighteenth birthday is next month. This is a massive deal!" Melissa's voice spiked in pitch, thoroughly outraged at the suggestion.

"Then just skip it. Zoey's grades are what they are. Us sitting in a folding chair isn't going to change anything."

Daniel hung up, leaving a dead dial tone.

I stood in the living room, listening to the beep. My chest didn't even tighten. There wasn't a single ripple of shock left in me.

Melissa tossed her phone onto the sofa, looking entirely unapologetic.

"You heard him, Zoey. We're both tied up, and I have to be there for Grace. Just go by yourself, and have the teachers email me if they need anything."

"Okay," I said flatly, and walked back to my room.

Friday afternoon, the gymnasium smelled like floor wax and stale coffee. Every desk had parents crammed into plastic folding chairs, scribbling furiously in notebooks as they peppered the teachers with questions.

My desk just had me, staring at the empty seat beside me.

Mrs. Smith, my AP Calculus teacher, stopped at my desk. She glanced at the empty plastic chair. "Your parents couldn't make it?"

"They're busy," I said.

Mrs. Smith sighed, a flash of familiar pity in her eyes. Then she tapped my thick file.

"Well, Zoey, it's their loss. Your academics are flawless. I've already reviewed your Harvard application, and you have a very real shot at this. If you need anything at all—recommendations, essay edits—my door is open."

My throat grew completely tight. "Thank you, Mrs. Smith."

In this entire city, she was probably the only adult who actually gave a damn about my future.

Walking home alone, the L.A. sunset painted the sky gold. But despite the heat baking the pavement, I felt freezing.

Passing a high-end boutique, I froze.

Through the massive glass window, I spotted them. Grace was standing on a velvet pedestal in a shimmering silver gown. Melissa hovered behind her, beaming with pride as she carefully adjusted the train.

Even through the glass, I could see Melissa mouthing, Oh my god, you look beautiful.

I stood on the sidewalk, the strap of my backpack digging into my shoulder. I just watched them.

Next month wasn't just Grace's eighteenth birthday. It was mine, too. We were twins. But looking at them right now, you would think I never existed. My coming-of-age was destined to be completely wiped from the calendar.

When I got back to the apartment, Daniel was slouched on the sofa, a beer in his hand and the TV blaring.

"How was the school thing?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the screen.

"Fine," I said.

"Good. Keep your nose clean," he muttered, taking a long swallow of his beer.

I didn't tell him what Mrs. Smith said. I didn't mention Harvard. Because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he didn't care.

Over the next few weeks, Daniel and Melissa were manic with preparations for Grace's party.

They booked a luxury downtown hotel ballroom, mailed hundreds of invitations, and Daniel even bought her a brand-new convertible for the driveway.

And me? I navigated the hallways like a ghost. Nobody asked what I wanted for my birthday, or how I wanted to celebrate.

The night before the party, Melissa cornered me in the kitchen.

"Look, Zoey. About tomorrow night..." She avoided my eyes. "The party is going to be packed with relatives and Grace's friends. You don't even have a dress for it. Honestly, you sitting alone in the corner is just going to be... awkward for everyone."

She pulled a crisp fifty-dollar bill from her purse and slid it across the counter.

"Go treat yourself to a nice dinner tomorrow. Stay out of the way."

Another fifty bucks.

I stared at the green paper. In their eyes, my entire eighteenth year of existence was worth exactly fifty dollars.

"Thanks," I said. I grabbed the bill and walked back to my room without shedding a single tear.

Melissa slumped with relief. "I knew you'd understand!"

The next morning, Grace spun around the living room in her silver gown, looking like a proud peacock.

"Am I gorgeous?" she squealed.

"Absolutely beautiful! The prettiest princess in the world," Daniel and Melissa chimed in together.

I pulled the straps of my backpack tight and walked right out the front door.

I didn't go to a restaurant. I took the bus straight to the city library.

Finding a quiet desk in the back, I booted up my laptop to research Boston neighborhoods and off-campus housing. The Harvard scholarship was massive, but the East Coast was expensive. I needed a plan.

I traced the grid of the Boston streets on the glowing screen. Anticipation fluttered in my chest. That was going to be my real home. A place that belonged entirely to me.

When I walked back into the apartment around midnight, it was pitch black. They were all still at the hotel, toasting to Grace in a room full of applause.

I dropped my bag, turned on the stove, and dropped a block of instant ramen into the boiling water.

No cake. No candles. No singing.

Watching the steam rise in the dark, I leaned against the counter.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, Zoey," I whispered to the empty room.