Chapter 13 - MY OWN VOICE
Ms. Porter called early the next morning.
“I wanted you to hear about the new message from me,” she said.
“I know. My dad showed me.”
“We haven’t replied to it. I need to ask something directly: do you want this scholarship?”
“Yes. I applied for it. I want to go to Westbridge.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We’ll arrange a video call so you can confirm that yourself.”
I sat at the kitchen table in a borrowed cardigan with Rebecca beside me and Dad out of camera view. The scholarship committee asked about my portfolio, my plans, and the conflicting messages they’d received.
I told them about working nights to buy fabric. I showed them a photograph of the finished dress, then the picture Tessa had taken after it was destroyed. I explained that I hadn’t sent either withdrawal.
One committee member asked, “Why design?”
I looked down at Mom’s sketchbook.
“Because I like making something useful and beautiful for somebody else,” I said. “And because making things has helped me through hard days.”
It wasn’t a polished answer. It was mine.
After the call, Ms. Porter said they had what they needed. The decision would come by evening.
Mia had listened from the hallway. When I shut the laptop, she said, “Your dress really was beautiful.”
I looked at her. “You knew that when you cut it.”
“I did.”
She went upstairs before I could reply.
That afternoon, Tessa came over with photographs from graduation. In every picture I looked tired, but in one I was holding my diploma and laughing with Dad. Tessa printed it for me.
At 6:02 p.m., Westbridge emailed.
My scholarship was confirmed.
I read the message twice. Then Dad read it aloud, and Rebecca cried, and Tessa made me take a picture holding my phone beside the diploma.
Mia stayed at the edge of the kitchen, smiling a little.
May you like
Then Dad’s phone rang. It was Officer Harris.
She had spoken to Denise. Denise admitted sending the withdrawal but claimed Mia had planned the whole thing—and said she had proof.
