Every time the teacher mentioned the following week, I felt sick because I didn't know whether I'd still be there. During recess, my best friend asked why I was so quiet, and I told her I hadn't slept well.
That was true.
But it wasn't the whole truth.
I had spent most of the night imagining a place where I wouldn't know anyone, where my father couldn't find me, and where nobody would let me keep my mother's photograph.
At lunchtime, I checked my backpack.
My stuffed rabbit was missing.
I knew my stepmother had taken it.
The knowledge made everything feel more real.
By the final bell, my stomach hurt.
My brother was waiting outside the school as usual.
He looked toward me.
"Did anything happen?"
I shook my head.
He nodded.
Then he lowered his voice.
"I texted Dad."
My eyes widened.
"What did he say?"
"He wants me to call him when we get home."
I looked toward the parking area.
Our stepmother's black SUV was approaching.
I swallowed.
"Will she know?"
My brother shook his head.
"Not if we're careful."
Then he took my hand.
We walked toward the vehicle together.
Our stepmother was wearing the red dress.
I remember noticing how pretty it was before I remembered how frightened I felt.
She had long platinum-blonde curls, pearl earrings, and a silver necklace. Her makeup was perfect, and she smiled at another parent near the school entrance as though she'd never raised her voice at anyone.
When we reached the SUV, she opened the rear door.
"Get in."
My brother helped me climb inside.
Then he sat beside me.
Our stepmother closed the door and walked around to the driver's seat.
As soon as she started the engine, her expression changed.
"Nobody speaks unless I ask a question."
We remained silent.
She drove through the familiar neighborhood streets, then turned toward a shopping center instead of heading directly home.
I looked at my brother.
He noticed.
"Where are we going?"
Our stepmother glanced at him through the mirror.
"An appointment."
"What appointment?"
She sighed.
"An adult matter."
He looked toward me.
I was gripping my pink backpack.
He tried again.
"Is it about my sister?"
Our stepmother's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"I told you not to question me."
My brother lowered his eyes.
But he kept watching the road.
We stopped outside a business center.
Our stepmother went inside for several minutes, leaving us in the locked vehicle with the air conditioning running. Before leaving, she told my brother not to move.