Chapter 1
Vanessa's hands were on my book before I understood what she was going to do. I was sitting on the black leather sofa with my legs tucked under me, the light blue cover open on my lap, and she reached down and took it. Not like she was going to look at it. Like she was going to take it away. The city lights behind the sofa were blurred through the window and the apartment was warm and quiet except for the soft sound of my dad's laptop keys from his desk in the corner.
Her fingers tightened on the sides and she pulled. The paper made a sharp ripping sound and the spine split straight down the middle. One half hung in her right hand and the other in her left for half a second before she let them fall toward me. I didn't move right away. I just stared at the two pieces where there had been one book.
My name is Sophie and I was six that night on the sofa in our apartment.
It happened after dinner. I hadn't even changed out of my white dress and socks. I had been reading on the sofa while Dad worked at his dark desk behind me. Vanessa had been standing near the bookshelf, not saying anything. I remember she asked me to put the book away and I didn't. I said, "Please give it," when she reached for it, very quietly, because I thought if I was polite she would hand it back.
She didn't.
She said, "Enough."
I watched the cover tear. It had white clouds and the little cartoon trees I liked to trace with my finger. When it ripped, the trees split in half too. The sound was louder than I expected. My hands were empty and then the two halves were in my lap, and I grabbed them without thinking and pulled them to my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut so hard it hurt and I couldn't stop crying. My mouth was open and tears ran down my cheeks and into the collar of my dress. I could feel my shoulders shaking and hear how ragged my breathing sounded.
Vanessa was still standing right next to the sofa looking down at me. She didn't move to fix it or to say sorry. Her beige blouse was smooth and still, her arms at her sides after she let go. She just stood there over me while I clutched the torn book.
From his desk, Dad heard me. I knew his chair made a soft scrape when he pushed back. His silver laptop was open and the little black mouse was next to it, and the light from the screen lit up his white shirt. He looked up and his face changed.
He said, "What happened? Did you do this?"
He wasn't asking me. He was looking at Vanessa. He got up fast and crossed the living room, past the edge of the rug, to where she stood beside the sofa. I kept my eyes closed for a second longer, then opened them. Dad was kneeling now on the floor in front of her so they were at eye level. He wasn't yelling. His voice was low and tight, and his trimmed beard was close enough that I could see his jaw moving when he spoke.
He looked at the two halves in my hands, then straight at her.
May you like
He said, "You will never treat my daughter like that again."
Vanessa didn't answer right away. She kept looking down at him with her mouth closed, her expression stern and still. I was still on the sofa, holding both pieces of my book against my chest, sobbing into the torn paper. Dad stayed kneeling in front of her, not moving, not standing up. The three of us stayed like that, frozen, with the city lights behind us and no one saying what would happen next.
