Chapter 6
Mason walked in with a tiny cake: “Happy birthday.“[]
I looked up, surprised.[]
He shifted around awkwardly: “Don’t read into it. Mom told me to bring this up.“[]
Small cake with “Happy Birthday” written on it. Didn’t even have my name.[]
“Thanks.” I took the cake.[]
He didn’t leave: “You’re not pissed?“[]
“About what?“]]
“Downstairs…”
“Downstairs is Savannah’s show. What’s that got to do with me?” I opened the cake box. “I don’t want any of that anyway.“[]
He frowned: “Can’t you just be NORMAL for once?”
I looked back at him: “What’s normal? Crying and throwing tantrums to get invited?”
He went quiet.
“Mason,” I met his eyes, “you know why I picked Stanford?“[]
“Why?“[]
vn.“[
“So I can make it on my own.”
I took a bite of cake. Way too sweet.[]
“I don’t need the Whitmores‘ handouts. Don’t need your pity. Don’t need anyone cutting me slack.“[]
“I’ve got hands, feet, and a brain. I can build my own empire.“[]
He just stared.[]
“So quit looking at me like I’m some charity case.
e.“0
I smiled.
“I’m Raven Whitmore. I don’t NEED pity.“[]
Long silence before he finally spoke: “Do you hate us?“[]
I shook my head. “Hate needs emotional investment. We don’t have that.“[]
Direct hit.[]
His face went through some changes, then he headed for the door.[]
At the threshold, he stopped:
“Raven, you know what? You’re too logical. Too controlled for an eighteen–year–old girl.“[]
I looked out the window. “I stopped being a girl when I was ten
Ten years old, first time foster dad brought his gambling buddies home
Lost big, he’d shoved me toward them to pour drinks and be nice.
That’s when I learned I had to be logical. Had to be strong.
Because nobody was gonna protect me.[]
After Mason left, I finished that sickeningly sweet cake alone.[]
Chapter 6
The party music kept going till way past midnight.[]
Next day I moved to Stanford.]
When I left, only the staff was around.[]
p.“I
Mom and Dad took Savannah to the hospital–apparently last night’s excitement made her “heart act up.‘
Mason was at the office.
Fine by me. Saved us all the awkward goodbyes.[]
Dorm was a quad. I was first to arrive.[]
After unpacking, I hit the library.[]
Stanford’s library was massive–millions of books.
I found a corner spot, pulled out my laptop, started writing a new story.]
This time, I wanted a happy ending.[]
Reality doesn’t give those out, but at least fiction can.[]
Wrote till evening, then my phone rang.
Mom asked: “Raven, where are you? You’re not home!“]
“Moved to Stanford.“[]
“What? Why didn’t you SAY anything?”
“Would you have cared?“[]
Silence on her end.[]
I said, “Just take good care of Savannah. I’m doing fine.”
After hanging up, I kept writing.[]
Back at the dorm that night, my roommates had all arrived.[]
Three girls, all really cool.[]
One of them did a double–take when she saw me: “Are you the Whitmore girl who…”
“Yeah.” I knew what she meant.[]
vs.]
The whole “Whitmores find their real daughter” thing made the news.
“So why are you living on campus?” another roommate asked.]
“Didn’t fit in at home.” I kept it simple.[]
They didn’t push, switched to other topics.[]
I lay in bed listening to them chat, feeling relaxed for the first time in forever.[]
Here, I was just Raven, Stanford freshman.
Not somebody’s biological daughter![]
Not somebody’s replacement.[]
