My Rich Dad Rented Me a Five-Hundred-Dollar Toxic Room

Chapter 3

Emily's POV:

My head snapped to the side. My ears rang. The diploma folder fell from my hand and slid across the floor.

"Are you not going to be happy until you've torn this family apart?" Mom grabbed my arm and shoved me toward the door. "You're jealous of your sister, you yell at your father, and you can't even let us have one happy day! Get out! If nothing here is good enough for you, don't ever come back!"

My socks slid across the floor. My knee slammed into the step in the entryway, and the pain sent me to the ground. Dad stood by the staircase without moving, his expression cold. Tiffany glanced down, smoothed her skirt, and shifted aside to avoid the diploma at her feet. I picked it up, shoved it into my backpack, and forced my feet into my shoes.

"Fine." My lips trembled, but I got the words out. "A home that won't make room for me isn't a home I'm coming back to."

The door slammed behind me.

I walked down the driveway, faster and faster until I broke into a run. My face hurt. My knee hurt. My backpack thudded against my spine with every step. But I didn't dare stop. I was afraid that if I did, I'd turn around to see whether anyone had come after me.

No one had.

My legs finally gave out. I used the loose change in my pocket to take a bus back to my old neighborhood. At the front door, I hurried to unlock it, but the key wouldn't turn.

Panic rose in my throat.

Judith Ward, our old next-door neighbor, pushed open her window and called out in surprise, "Emily? Didn't your family move to the lake? The new owners closed on this house this morning."

I held the key, too humiliated to look at her. Tears spilled down my face again. Just last night, I'd been ironing my graduation gown in the attic. All I'd done was go to my graduation, and now I couldn't even get back into my old house.

But how could a house be sold in half a day? Selling the company, buying a new house, packing everything up... none of that could have happened overnight. The secret phone calls Tiffany had taken. The jewelry box Mom had packed away. The emails from lawyers on Dad's phone... I stood there gripping the key, remembering how the three of them had sat around the dining table the night before. Whenever I came close, they stopped talking.

I crouched by the door. My scraped knee rubbed against my jeans, and I sucked in a breath. That morning, I'd glanced back at the attic and thought about moving my desk somewhere less sunny when I came home from college.

I had lived in that attic my entire life.

When Tiffany moved into the bedroom with its own bathroom, Mom had said, "You don't need that much space." The attic was like an oven in summer, but I never asked to switch rooms again. It was the same with food. I didn't eat onions. Tiffany loved them, so there were always onions in the meatloaf, the soup, and the pasta. Every summer, I went to my grandmother's with twenty bucks in my pocket, slept on the back porch, and helped her clean and cook. Tiffany got to go to riding camp and the beach. I was never in any of the vacation photos she posted.

I'd always told myself that the family didn't have enough money and I needed to be more understanding. Now they had enough money to hire a driver and a housekeeper. Enough to buy Tiffany a closet full of dresses she wore once.

They just couldn't afford me.

I took out my phone and opened a text to Mom.

Emily: Can I come home?

My thumb hovered over Send. My cheek still burned. I touched it and jerked my hand back from the pain. I deleted the message one letter at a time and wiped away my tears.

I'd had enough.

I texted Phoebe Hart. She'd been our high school's student council president, and she was the one friend I could be honest with. "Can I stay with you for a few days?" I asked through a sob.

"Of course, Emily. Just come over." Phoebe's tone softened.

When I got to Phoebe's house, her mother, Angela Hart, handed me an ice pack and opened the guest-room door. "You can stay here for now. We'll figure out school when the time comes."

I took the ice pack and thanked her quietly.

That summer, I was going to earn enough to get out on my own.