Chapter 5 - The Hallway Where Katie's Name Stayed
Mom told me to go change out of my sweater. Not mean, just quiet. She said my pasta smell was all over it and I should put on something clean while she and Dad talked. I didn't want to leave the bright kitchen with the phone still lit up on the counter and the little gift box sitting untouched by it, but I nodded and walked down the hall with my socks soft on the floor.
Our hallway is short. You can hear everything if you stop by the laundry door where the wall turns. I changed in my room and pulled on a gray T-shirt, and then I just stood there with my jeans still on, listening. I knew I shouldn't. I did it anyway.
"She had the list on the fridge," Dad said. His voice was low. "I saw it when I got water."
I pressed my shoulder against the doorframe.
"Katie's kids?" Mom asked.
"Yeah. Both names. Underneath hers. With check marks," Dad said. "Time, place for the party. The pizza place off Route 9."
My stomach went tight. I sat down on the edge of my bed because my legs felt weird. I stared at my hands. I could hear the refrigerator hum from the kitchen.
Mom didn't answer right away. I heard a cabinet close, not slammed, just shut.
"So it's set," she said. "They're invited."
"It's logistics," Dad said. "Katie lives closer. She helps with setup. That's probably why—"
"Don't," Mom said. Her voice stopped him flat. "Don't do that."
A pause. I could hear him breathing.
"I’m not excusing it," he said, quieter. "I’m saying how your mom will frame it. I’m not saying she’s right."
I picked at a loose thread on my bedspread. Katie lived closer. Katie helped with setup. That made sense in my head for about three seconds, and then it didn't, because what did that have to do with what I wore? I had asked about a dress. Grandma hadn't looked confused. She hadn't looked sorry.
I walked back toward the hallway before I decided to. My socks didn't make noise. The white kitchen light spilled out onto the wood floor.
"Should I call Katie?" Dad asked. "Ask if she knew?"
"No," Mom said fast.
I stopped just outside the light.
"If I call Katie, then I'm asking her to fix it," Mom said. "I'm not going to put her in the middle and I'm not going to beg my sister for an invite for my own kid. That's not happening."
"Okay," Dad said. "Okay. I agree."
"She looked right at her," Mom said, and her voice got thinner. "She knew what she was doing."
I stepped into the kitchen. Both of them turned. Mom's face changed right away, like she was trying to smooth it out for me.
"How much did you hear?" she asked.
I didn't lie. "That Katie's kids are invited."
Dad glanced at Mom, then came over and crouched a little so his eyes were level with mine. His light blue shirt was wrinkled from the car ride.
"You didn't do anything wrong," he said. "This is grown-up stuff about Grandma's party. Not about you being bad or not good enough."
"Then why just me?" I asked. My voice sounded small in the bright room.
Mom walked around the counter. She didn't touch the phone or the gift box. She just put her hand on my shoulder.
"Because Grandma made a choice," she said. "A deliberate one. Not a mistake with the invitations."
I looked at the gift box with the rolled paper letter tucked against it. It was still tied shut. Still waiting.
"She said they're different," I said.
Mom's hand tightened just a little. "I know, baby. I heard her."
Dad stood up. He put his hand on the counter near the phone but didn't pick it up.
May you like
"We're going to handle it," he said. "You don't have to figure out how to earn your way in."
I nodded, but inside my chest something settled cold and hard. If both cousins' names were checked off on the list, and mine wasn't even written down, then it wasn't about space or pizza or rides. It was about me being left out on purpose while everyone else got to go.
