Chapter 1: She Stole Food After I Told Her No
My hand was fisted in my daddy's suit jacket and I wouldn't let go. The fabric was dark and smooth under my fingers and it smelled like outside and his cologne, and my tears had left a wet spot right where I'd pressed my face. I could feel my own breath coming fast and shallow against his leg. On the dark wood table in front of us, Caleb's plate was full. Mashed potatoes and greens and two slices of red tomato, and a fork held tight in his hand. My place at the table was empty except for the tablet with its blue screen glowing and a bread roll on a plate that wasn't mine.
That was the contradiction that sat heaviest in my stomach. I hadn't eaten since lunch at school. My brother had a whole dinner getting cold while he stared at it. And from the kitchen doorway Vanessa's words were still hanging in the air even though she wasn't in the room anymore. She stole food after I told her no. She said it like it was a fact, loud enough for my daddy to hear the second he walked in, and she said it about me.
My name is Amara. I was five that winter.
That evening my daddy had just gotten home from work. I heard his keys before I saw him, the jingle in the white paneled door, and then he was inside still wearing his navy suit with the little white polka dots on his tie. He hadn't even taken off his shoes. He'd knelt down when he saw me crying, and that's when I grabbed his jacket. Caleb was already at the table with his plate, his light blue shirt tucked in, looking up at us with his eyes wide. My daddy's hand was on my back, and he was breathing slow, trying to figure out what kind of crying this was.
He looked from me to Caleb and then to the empty chair where I was supposed to sit. His brow furrowed. I saw it up close. He asked it quiet, but his voice had that pause in it like he didn't want to believe what he was about to hear. He said, "Why doesn't she have dinner?"
Caleb didn't answer right away. He glanced toward the kitchen, then back at my daddy. His fork shook a little. He said, "She does this when you're at work."
I felt my daddy's hand still on my back. He didn't move. The warm light from the lamp on the sideboard made everything look soft, but my cheeks were wet and hot. I had been holding the words in all afternoon because Vanessa told me not to tell. But my throat hurt from crying and my stomach was making that hollow ache it made when I went too long without eating. I tugged harder on his jacket and I whispered it. I said, "She locks the food away from me."
For a second nobody moved. The glass by Caleb's plate had a little ring of water under it. The blue light from the tablet reflected on the dark wood. My daddy's eyes went to the tablet and then back to me. He reached out with his other hand, not letting go of me, and his fingers hovered over it. He said, "Give me that."
I let go of his jacket with one hand just long enough to slide the tablet toward him. It was the old black one we were supposed to use for games, but I'd figured out how to press the red circle to record. My fingers left smudges on the edge. I looked up at him and my voice cracked but I got it out. I said, "I recorded what she does."
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He lifted it with both hands. The screen was bright blue and then it turned to the camera roll, little thumbnails lined up. His thumb was right over the play button and I could see his chest rising and falling under his shirt. His goatee was trimmed close and I could see his jaw tighten. Caleb was frozen at the table, his fork still over his potatoes, watching my daddy's face like he was waiting to see if he was in trouble too. My small hand found my daddy's jacket again and held on.
Then we heard it. The key turning in the front door. The metal click and the handle starting to turn.
