I say nothing. My mouth feels dry; my tongue is like sandpaper. I should be back home with Sally and Nevaeh, looking up colleges and contemplating if we’d rather take a gap year or just not go to college at all. We should be working on summer plans and bingeing Netflix shows together, gossiping about love interests, and watching Nevaeh perform her dance routines in her mom’s driveway.
Instead, here I am, across the country, standing beside a woman that I don’t particularly like, waiting to go live for millions of people to gawk at.
I can’t fucking wait.
“You’ll thank me for this one day,” Tess says, but more like she’s talking to herself instead of me. Good. I don’t particularly want to talk to her right now, not after she and Paul ransacked my room, took my things, and forced me to participate in this stupid show.
The lights flicker on and off and a sign that reads Silence, Please burns red above the stage.
“Welcome back, familia,” the host—Martina Cortez—says, introducing herself and the show the way she always does. “Today we have a very special returning guest—bestselling author Tess Vanguard. Tess is the author of over twenty-three novels and winner of the Women’s Literacy Prize three years in the running. Not only is Ms. Vanguard a champion for lost and stolen children, but she’s also a woman who’s experienced every mother’s worst nightmare. Let’s take a look.”
Martina turns toward a large screen on the back wall where a cheesy video begins to play. As soon as her voiceover begins to regale the story of my early life with Tess, dizziness takes over me and I’m forced to brace a hand on the wall.
“From an early age, Tess Patterson knew only two things: that she wanted to be a writer … and that she wanted to be a mother.”
At first, I decide that I can’t look at Tess. I just can’t. The video and the voiceover might be cheesy, but the story is almost too real. There are pictures and videos of me as a baby—ones that I’ve never even seen before. You’d think—you would fucking think—that Tess would’ve shown these to me at some point, that she might’ve made mention of my father, that she’d want to spend any time together at all.
But no.
The only time she wants to spend with me is on the set of some stupid show that my Grandma Carmen makes fun of.
“That day—a day like any other—is when tragedy first struck this small but resilient family.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I clench my jaw, glancing surreptitiously at Tess. If she finds out that I do, in fact, have my phone, I’m in trouble. If I lose it, I have a feeling that something in me will just break into a million pieces. The small screen in my pocket is a key that connects me to Maxine, that allows me some sort of escape from this new life of mine.
Tess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care much. She isn’t looking at me. Instead, her arms are crossed over her chest and her gaze is fixated on the stage. Based on her expression, you’d think she was about to enter a corporate conference to discuss consumer reports or something. There’s no emotion there, none at all.
I turn away from the video and put my hands over my ears. I don’t want to hear about it anymore. I don’t care. It’s as if this is all happening to someone else, anyone else that isn’t me. This isn’t my life. I’m not Mia Patterson. I’m not some lost and stolen child.
When Tess steps onstage, I pull out my phone with shaking hands, hoping beyond all hope that my grandparents have messaged to let me know they’re watching. That Sally and Nevaeh have my back. Maxine, at the very least, knows that I’m going to be here today. It could be a text from her.
Instead, it’s a message from Maxx.
Heads up: your sister is freaking out. Your grandparents are being interviewed remotely for the show today. They didn’t tell anyone until this morning. Maxine is on the phone with them now, but she’ll call as soon as she gets the chance.
My heart drops into my stomach and a wave of nausea takes over me. My grandparents are coming on the show today? I turn back around to find Tess smiling at Martina and nodding her head; they’re talking to each other, but all of a sudden, it’s like I can’t hear anything but the pounding of my heart.
A sense of dread washes over me.
This isn’t going to go well for me today.
“What is wrong with you?” a voice asks. I don’t have to look up to know that it’s Parrish.
“My grandparents,” I breathe, because the lady with the badge is turning me around and positioning me on a taped X near the stage. Parrish stays with me, for whatever reason.
