Under His Roof

The Trap

SARAH

I was deep in the kind of sleep when the house started moving like it had suddenly decided to learn how to dance.

At first, my sleep-drunk brain tried to make sense of it. Maybe it was just the old pipes acting up again, or perhaps my neighbor next door was rearranging her furniture at dawn like she sometimes did when her arthritis kept her awake.

For a terrifying moment, I wondered if we were having an earthquake. But earthquakes don't usually come with the sound of diesel engines.

That was when pure panic set in.

Everywhere continued to shake, my thought was pure terror that my only home was falling apart.

I launched myself out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. The house was still shaking and now I could hear the unmistakable roar of heavy machinery.

There were bulldozers outside. Not one, but three massive yellow beasts that looked like mechanical dinosaurs with their metal teeth ready to attack.

Men in bright orange hard helmets moved around them like worker ants, some carrying clipboards, others gesturing toward my house, and the neighboring ones with the casual indifference of people who tear down dreams for a living.

I ran barefooted out of that house like my hair was on fire and my feet were catching. The front door slammed against the wall so hard it probably left a dent, but I didn't care. And I realized I was still in my tattered pajamas that had seen better decades.

My feet hit the frost-covered grass and I nearly slipped, my arms windmilling wildly as I fought to keep my balance.

"Stop!" I yelled, throwing both hands up in the air like I was surrendering to an army instead of trying to halt a construction crew. "Please, just stop!"

The closest bulldozer operator looked down at me from his cab with the kind of expression you'd give a slightly unhinged person.

A few of the hard-hat guys stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at me, some with amusement, others with the weary patience of people who had dealt with hysterical homeowners before.

"Please stop," I said again, this time trying to sound more reasonable and sane, even though I was far from that.

One of them, a burly guy with a gray beard, climbed down from his machine and started walking toward me. He didn't look mean, exactly, but he had the determined stride of someone ready to push me away so the job could continue.

"This is my home," I said, and before I knew what I was doing, I dropped to my knees, clasping my hands together like I was praying, which I guess I was, in a way.

"Please, this is all I have," I continued, my voice breaking completely now. Hot tears started streaming down my face, creating little rivers of salt water that dripped off my chin. "I don't have anywhere else to go. Please, I'm begging you."

I must have looked absolutely pathetic for them to even care.

The bearded worker had almost reached me when a voice cut through the engine noise like a knife through butter.

"Stop."

It wasn't as loud as mine, but there was something about it that made everyone freeze.

I looked up through my tears and saw a petite woman with her silver-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on her nose walking toward us from a black car.

I did a rough calculation of what she was putting on to predict what she was worth.

Everything about her screamed money, not the nouveau riche kind, but the type that doesn't need to announce itself.

Her coat was cashmere, her black heels looked like they came from somewhere I couldn't even pronounce the name of.

The construction workers parted aside as she passed, some of them actually removing their hard hats like she was royalty. And in a way, I supposed she was money royalty.

Hope bloomed in my chest like a flower in spring. I stayed on my knees, afraid that if I moved, I might break whatever spell had made her tell them to stop.

But then, just as I was starting to believe that maybe the universe didn't hate me after all, a familiar figure emerged from behind the black car.

A man walked up to the elegant woman and slipped his arm around her waist. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, and she smiled up at him.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked, his voice warm and concerned.

I really looked at his face and my world almost came to an end.

It was the man who hit me with his car and made me the main target of humiliation.

"You?" The word carried all the shock and betrayal I felt as I got on my feet ready to fight him.

"What have I done to deserve this?" I asked, my voice growing stronger with each word. "I was kind to you. I respected you and didn't even ask you for a dime from you as compensation or try to cause trouble. So why? Why are you doing this to me?"

Recognition dawned in his eyes, he looked from me to his wife, then back to me, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out how to handle this situation.

The tears were flowing freely now, a kind of hurt that comes from having your kindness thrown back in your face.

His wife looked between us with increasing confusion, her perfectly shaped eyebrows drawing together in a thin frown. "What's going on here?" she asked, her voice still soft.

"She's the school girl I told you about who refused to go to the hospital," he said, his voice gentle as he addressed his wife. "The one I hit with the car, remember?"

"Oh, dear!" The wife's expression changed immediately, her eyes widening with genuine sympathy.

And just like that, I realized how wrong I was about everything. This was just the universe's idea of a cosmic joke putting me in the path of the one person who already felt guilty about hurting me, just in time for him to hurt me again in a completely different way.

"We are the Walkers," the woman said, and there was unmistakable pride in her voice as she spoke. "We own The Walker Construction."

My heart sank into my shoes or it would have, if I was wearing any.

"TWC!" I gasped, recognizing the initials that had been on signs around the city for as long as I could remember. TWC wasn't just a regular construction company, they were the ones that built half the skyscrapers downtown, with their name appearing on billboards and bus stops.

I was back on my knees before I even realized I had moved. "Please spare my house," I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded because desperate was exactly what I was. "I don't have anywhere else to go. Please, I'll do anything."

They both looked past me at my house, and I could see them really seeing it, maybe for the first time. The sagging thing I called home.

Suddenly, his wife swept past us. I couldn’t tell what she was looking for. Then, just as quickly as she left, she circled back, her gaze locked on something behind me.

“If I may ask, where did you get that flower vase?” she asked, pointing at the ceramic by the window.

I wiped my face, heart oddly stirred. “It belongs to my late Grandmother.”

Her brow twitched in surprise. “Your Grandmother?” she echoed.

“Patricia!!” we said in unison.

Her expression flickered in disbelief.

“But if I may ask,” she continued, “who are you to her?”

“I am her grandchild. We used to live together before she passed away,” I replied, quietly.

She gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. “Oh my God. She’s dead?” Her voice quivered. “She was hardworking. She worked with me for ten years and I couldn’t have prayed for a better housekeeper than her. But she—”

Her husband stepped in fast, almost rehearsed. He drew her toward him, his arm a gentle leash, his face tight. Clearly, he didn’t want her saying more.

“My Grandma slumped at your house and broke her back,” I accused.

Their eyes flared open but Mr. Walker immediately cut his.

"We're developing this entire neighborhood," he said, gesturing with his free hand at the houses around us. "New condominiums, modern amenities, and green spaces. It's a comprehensive redevelopment project. We can't just leave one house standing in the middle of it all."

That's what my life was to them, an obstacle in their comprehensive redevelopment project.

But I wasn't ready to give up.

I scrambled across the wet grass on my knees until I reached her, I grabbed onto her legs like a child clinging to their mother, tears streaming down my face so fast I could barely see.

"Please don't let them take my home. It's all I have. It's all I am," I sobbed, looking up at her through my tears.

She looked down at me with sympathy. I could see her wavering when my desperation touched something human inside her.

She turned to look at her husband and I held my breath, praying to whatever gods might be listening that she would say the words that would save me.

But he was already shaking his head before she could speak.

"We still have to tear down the house," he said firmly, but then his expression softened as he looked at me still clinging to his wife's legs like a lifeline.

They exchanged a long look with his wife, and I could see some kind of silent conversation happening between them.

"Why don't you just work for us as the assistant housekeeper?"

****

My first instinct was filled with unfiltered joy. This was my ticket to regular meals, a warm bed, and maybe even a chance to stop counting every penny like my life depended on it.

I really hope nothing makes them take back the offer maybe because I was young.

I was so lost in my swirling thoughts, that I didn’t notice she was approaching me until a body brushed against mine, jolting me back to the present moment.

Of course, it was Ann.

“Good morning,” I muttered, faking a smile so hard it felt like my face hurt.

I already knew it was going to be a bad day.

I took her bag from her and for a second, I actually imagined stomping on it. Just bringing my slippers down like a hammer on a cockroach. But I dare not. Instead, I adjusted the strap on my shoulder.

To save what was left of my mental health, I walked ahead of her. That’s how to cope. I called it survival. Less proximity meant fewer chances of getting bitten by her venom.

“Ess, where are you running to?” Her voice rang out behind me like a trap dressed up in honey.

I stopped walking and counted to three before facing her again. She was standing there with one hip c****d, her head tilted at that particular angle that rich girls seemed to perfect in high school.

“You see that boy,” she said, her manicured finger pointing at the car pack where my favorite person in school was walking from.

Ann reached into her purse and pulled out a white envelope. Folded into an envelope like it came from the 1999s. If you ask me, it wasn't befitting for her to give this kind of cheap-looking like envelope to him.

For a moment, I felt genuinely happy. The thought of having an actual reason to approach my crush.

This could be it, my chance to finally talk to him without looking like a complete stalker. Maybe Ann wasn't completely evil after all. Maybe this was her version of doing me a favor.

But then she opened her mouth again, and my brief moment of joy crumbled.

"Slip this letter into his bag," she commanded, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

I stared at her, my brain struggling to process what she had just said. My confusion must have been written all over my face because she rolled her eyes and repeated herself, speaking slower this time like I was mentally deficient.

The whole thing made no sense. If he was her man and the letter was obviously some kind of romantic gesture, why was she being so secretive about it? Why couldn't she just walk up to him herself?

My curiosity was burning a hole in my brain, but I knew better than to voice my questions. I wanted to ask why?

Instead, I tried a different approach. "What's his name?" I asked, hoping my voice sounded casual and not like my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

“You’ve been drooling over someone and you didn’t even know his name?” Her false eyelashes fluttered dramatically as she looked me up and down.

“I see you're desperate to make a spot for yourself in this school, aren't you? but let me make something clear? you'll never be anything more than the errand girl, the bicycle girl, or the charity case we all pretend to tolerate out of pity.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, the automatic apology falling from my lips.

Ann's smile turned predatory. “You had better be and stop being pathetic,” she snapped. “Because that boy? He’s mine. He doesn’t talk to anyone else. Especially not you. Now go away and don’t ruin my designer bag, lowlife.”

Wow! If this were years ago, I would’ve cried my eyes out. But I had grown a second skin that kept the worst of the insults from slicing all the way through.

~~~

Mathematics class was supposed to start ten minutes ago, running late was his second course.

The classroom buzzed with the kind of low-level chaos that only happened when teenagers were left unsupervised.

I was trying to lose myself in my textbook when something hit my shoulder.

Notes passed during class were never good news. My hands shook slightly as I unfolded the paper.

"Get it done now."

Sent by no one else other than The little Jezebel herself.

I blinked at her, confusion spilling all over my face. Weren’t secrets supposed to be… secret? She gave me the death glare of doom.

I glanced over at my crush, with his headset worn over his head. I could see the concentration on his face as he turned a page.

Maybe I could pull this off without making a complete fool of myself. I could pretend to be getting up to sharpen my pencil, casually walk past his desk, and slip the envelope into his bag while he wasn't looking. It wasn't the most sophisticated plan in the world, but it might work if I timed it right.

I adjusted my uniform, tried to check if I looked presentable without a mirror. I ran a finger on my lips to be sure my lipgloss was still intact on my lips. Breath—chewed a mint earlier.

My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it, but I forced myself to walk normally,.

He was even more attractive up close, and for a moment I forgot what I was supposed to be doing. His eyelashes were ridiculously long.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the envelope, my fingers trembling slightly as I tried to slip it into his unzipped backpack, making my task easier than I had expected.

Mission accomplished, I thought to myself as I turned to head back to my seat.

But then I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, and my entire world came crashing down.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up the envelope I just tried to hide.