Chapter 3: The Invitation
1202 Words
Sarah’s POV
I must have read the invitation twenty times.
It sat on my bed while I stood in front of my mirror.
“What am I supposed to wear?” I whispered.
I opened my wardrobe.
Three dresses.
One was too small.
One had a tear near the hem.
The last one was plain blue. It was not ugly, but it looked nothing like the dresses I imagined rich
people wore.
I held it against myself and frowned.
“It will have to do.”
A knock came at my door.
“Sarah?” Mum called.
“Come in.”
She stepped inside carrying a basket of folded clothes.
She noticed the dress in my hands and smiled.
“Trying to decide?”
I nodded.
“I don’t think it’s good enough.”
She walked over and touched the fabric.
“It looks beautiful.”
“It looks old.”
“It looks clean.”
I laughed.
“You’re trying to make me feel better.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“What if everyone laughs at me?”
“They won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
She sat beside me.
“I know you.”
“You always think the worst before anything even happens.”
I sighed. “I cannot help it.”
“You can.”
She squeezed my hand.
“You just haven’t learned how yet.”
Before I could answer, Dad walked past my bedroom.
His footsteps were slow.
He looked more tired than he had yesterday.
“Dad,” I called.
He stopped and smiled.
“You’re home early.”
“There wasn’t much to do today.”
He tried to sound cheerful, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
Mum stood up.
“I’ll make tea.”
Dad nodded.
As she left the room, he looked at the invitation lying on my bed.
“So this is it.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“You finally got a good opportunity.”
“I hope I don’t ruin it.”
“You won’t.”
He picked up the invitation.
His smile slowly disappeared.
“What is it?” I asked.
He kept staring at the card.
“The Harrison Foundation Annual Charity Gala,” he read quietly.
The room suddenly felt different.
“Dad?”
He blinked and looked at me.
“When did they tell you this?”
“Yesterday.”
“Are you sure this is the event?”
“Yes.”
He handed the invitation back almost immediately.
“I don’t think you should go.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“But…”
Mum walked back into the room carrying three cups of tea.
She looked from me to Dad.
“What happened?”
“He doesn’t want me to go.”
Her smile faded.
“Why?”
Dad looked away.
“I just have a bad feeling.”
Mum folded her arms.
“A bad feeling doesn’t pay bills.”
“It isn’t about the money.”
“Then what is it about?”
He stayed silent.
I looked between them.
“Dad?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I just don’t like that family.”
“What family?” I asked.
“The Harrisons.”
My heart skipped.
“The same Harrisons everyone at school talks about?”
He nodded.
“Have you met them before?”
He answered too quickly.
“No.”
Something about the way he said it felt wrong.
“You’ve never met them?”
“I said no.”
His voice came out sharper than he intended.
The room became quiet.
A few seconds later, he sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
“It’s okay,” I said softly.
He looked at me with tired eyes.
“If you don’t have to go…”
“I do.”
“They’re counting on me.”
“And we need the money.”
Mum placed a hand on his shoulder.
“She’ll only be serving food.”
“Nothing will happen.”
Dad looked at the invitation one last time.
“I hope you’re right.”
Dad disappeared into his room without another word.
I stood there staring at the closed door.
Mum picked up the empty tea cups and sighed.
“Don’t think too much about what happened.”
I looked at her.
“He looked scared.”
“He has been under a lot of pressure.”
“That wasn’t pressure.”
“It felt different.”
She stopped walking.
“Sarah.”
“Yes?”
“Your father has carried a lot of pain for years.”
“I know.”
“There are things he finds difficult to talk about.”
“Does it have something to do with the Harrisons?”
For a moment, she did not answer.
Then she forced a small smile.
“You ask too many questions.”
“I just want to understand.”
“You don’t need to understand everything today.”
She carried the cups into the kitchen, ending the conversation before I could ask anything else.
I let out a slow breath.
Something was wrong.
Both of them knew it.
Neither of them wanted to tell me.
That evening, I sat at the small table in my room with my school books open.
I had been reading the same page for almost fifteen minutes.
None of the words stayed in my head.
My thoughts kept going back to Dad.
Why had his face changed the moment he saw the invitation?
Why had Mum tried so hard to change the subject?
I reached for the envelope again.
The Harrison Foundation Annual Charity Gala.
I traced the words with my finger.
“It is just a job,” I whispered to myself.
“Nothing more.”
Still, the uneasy feeling refused to leave.
A soft knock came from my bedroom door.
Dad stepped inside.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He walked over and placed a small box on my desk.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
I slowly lifted the lid.
Inside was a silver wristwatch.
It looked old, but it had been polished until it shined.
“Dad…”
“It belonged to my father.”
I looked up in surprise.
“I want you to wear it on Saturday.”
“I can’t take this.”
“You can.”
“It will bring me peace.”
I carefully picked it up.
“I’ll take good care of it.”
“I know you will.”
He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.
As he turned to leave, he paused at the door.
“No matter what happens at that gala, remember who you are.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he walked away.
I stared at the watch in my hand.
For the second time that day, I had the strange feeling that Saturday was going to change much
more than my family’s finances.
- Writer
