Chapter Twelve
Skylar
Morning crawls through the curtains, gray and washed out, the kind that doesn’t belong to birthdays. The light hits the walls faintly, as if even the sun knows this day isn’t worth showing up for.
Last year’s birthday balloon is still here. It’s half-dead, half-alive. Cassie’s gift, not Dolores’s.
It floats by the dresser, sagging at the edges, holding on to the last breath of air it doesn’t deserve. The ribbon’s crusted with dust, curled in on itself the way everything in this house eventually does.
This is what birthdays look like here.
No candles. No cake. Just the same tired walls, the same fucking ache in my chest.
Eighteen… And it already feels too old to matter.
I lie on my back, staring at the water stain on the ceiling.
It's getting bigger, spreading across the plaster in uneven circles.
They say eighteen is the age when everything begins.
Freedom. Adulthood. The world waiting for you with open fucking arms.
It sure as shit doesn’t feel that way.
The room seems smaller, the air heavier, every breath a little harder to take.
I’m not free.
I’m just… empty. Used up before I got the chance to spread my wings and fly.
A knock cuts through the quiet.
Three dull thuds that hit. Dolores never waits. The door creaks open, hinges crying out in protest.
“Are you awake?” Her voice is rough, morning-thick, with no trace of softness in it.
I push myself up, hair sticking to my face, sheets twisted around my legs.
“Yeah.”
She stands in the doorway in her robe, hair pinned, coffee in hand. Her face is unreadable, wearing that same empty expression she saves for bills and bad news.
“You realize what day it is.”
“Yeah.” I pull the blanket over my legs. “Hard to forget.”
She lets out a sigh that sounds too heavy for the morning. “Then you already know what comes next.”
I’ve seen this coming, the colder tone, the shampoo she stopped buying for me.
“Dolores.”
“You’re eighteen now.” Her tone doesn’t rise, but it doesn’t soften either. “That means the checks stop. And when the checks stop, so do you staying here. I can’t keep you for free.”
“But I have nowhere to go.” My throat aches, but I keep my voice flat. I won’t give her the sound of me breaking.
“That’s not my problem.” Her eyes drift across the room, landing on everything except me. “You had plenty of time to get ready. You knew this was coming.”
I let out a small laugh. It sounds wrong. Empty.
“Yeah. Because people are just dying to rent a place to some broke kid with nothing but a garbage bag full of clothes.”
She shrugs, the movement lazy, uncaring. “I’m not running a charity. You age out, you move out. That’s how it works.”
She crosses the room; the floor creaking under her slippers.
A small box hits the dresser, wrapped in cheap paper that’s already tearing at the corners.
“Happy birthday.”
Two words.
No smile. No pause.
And she’s gone.
The door clicks shut, and the quiet that follows is worse than anything she could’ve said.
It seeps into the walls, pressing into my chest until breathing feels like an effort.
I glance at the dresser.
The box sits there, waiting. Small. Useless but still trying to pretend it matters.
I shove the blanket off and climb down from the top bunk. My feet hit the floor hard.
The paper’s wrinkled, taped unevenly, covered in those stupid cartoon candles that seem more like a joke than a celebration.
I tear it open, and a keychain drops into my palm.
Plastic.
Pink.
A little heart that reads Dream Big. The words catch the light for half a second before fading back into nothing.
The irony stings. Dream big, when the only dream I’ve got is finding somewhere to sleep tonight.
It’s cheap. Hollow. Exactly what this house has always been.
I want to hurl it against the wall to watch it split open, plastic heart snapping in two. I want to scream that she could’ve at least pretended I was worth the effort.
But I don’t.
I stare at it, the words Dream Big staring back, all fake shine and cheap promises. My vision burns until everything goes fuzzy.
In my head, I hear her voice. The same line she feeds every kid who ever passes through that front door. "Don’t get comfortable. This isn’t forever."
I grab a clean shirt from the chair and pull it on.
Jeans next, followed by socks that don’t match because none of it matters.
When I’m done, I glance around the room, ignoring the other girls watching me.
My eyes land on the keychain sitting on the dresser, pink and pathetic, still telling me to Dream Big.
For some stupid reason I can’t explain, I slip it into my pocket.
Then, I pack up my shit.
There isn’t much to take. A few shirts. Two pairs of jeans, a skirt. The photo of me and Cassie from her fifteenth birthday. We’re both grinning, sunburnt, mid-laugh. The kind of smile you only wear when you still think the world’s gonna be kind.
That was the last time I believed in happy endings.
By the time I zip the bag shut, my chest is hollow. I catch my reflection in the cracked mirror. My face appears older somehow, sharper around the edges. It’s what happens when you finally stop hoping someone will choose you.
I sling my backpack over one shoulder, the duffel bag over the other.
Outside my bedroom door, Dolores stands in the kitchen stirring coffee, back turned, shoulders stiff. She doesn’t lift her head, but I’m certain she heard me. She’s got ears sharp enough to catch a whisper from three rooms away.
I stop in the hallway, fingers tightening on the strap of my bag.
The words crawl up my throat. I so desperately want to tell her she’s a shitty foster parent, tell her we’re just kids who didn’t choose this fucking life, who still ended up in this shithole where no one gives a fuck.
But what’s the point?
She’s probably already lined up the next kid to fill my bed, the next face she won’t care about.
I shift my bag higher on my shoulder and keep walking.
The front door opens without a sound. I step out without looking back.
The sky is gray, thick with rain that hasn’t fallen. The kind of morning that feels hungover.
I stand on the porch, fingers tight around my bags. The world spreads wide and empty, stretching out in every direction with nowhere to land.
I’m eighteen. Free. And nowhere to fucking go.
It’s too early for Cassie, so I walk alone.
The street’s empty, the only sound is my footsteps and the dull hit of the duffel against my leg.
By the time I reach the school gates, my shoulders burn.
People stare as I walk through. The difference is, today I don’t have the energy to glare back.
I spot Liam leaning against the fence, surrounded by his pack of brainless followers. He clocks me instantly, that shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
“Damn, Sky,” he calls out. “Are you wearing those jeans for class or to get the attention of my cock?”
The boys erupt into laughter, one letting out a drawn-out “fuuuck.”
Liam, the asshole doesn’t know when to quit.
“Bet that mouth’s good for more than mouthing off, Sky.”
More laughter. One of them mutters something about bending me over.
I keep walking. Most days, I’d say something sharp enough to make his balls shrivel. But not today.
Today, I’ve got too much weight on my back and not enough fucks left to give. He’s just noise. Ugly, empty noise.
The hallway reeks of floor cleaner and something stale trapped in the vents.
Most of the students are still outside, crowding around Liam and his pack of dickheads, hoping if they laugh loud enough, he’ll look their way.
I slip into the seat under the stairwell and drop my bags at my feet. It’s quieter here, if only for a second.
The quiet doesn’t last.
Lockers slam.
Voices blur.
The hallway fills with sound. Laughter, footsteps, someone yelling about a test.
I stare at the tiles.
One’s chipped, right at the edge of my shoe. I count the cracks. Try to think. Try to breathe, rack my brain for a plan that doesn’t end with me curled up sleeping behind a dumpster tonight.
“There you are,” Cassie says, all bright and grinning like the world isn’t falling apart. “Happy birthday, bitch. Where were you this morning?”
She slides into the seat beside me, all ease and habit, as if this were another day. Her arm slips through mine.
She doesn’t see the second bag. Not yet.
“We’re doing something tonight,” she says. “Pizza. Cake. A movie. You’re not saying no.”
Her smile is wide, waiting for the version of me she expects to show up.
But I’m not sure that girl still exists.
I shake her off. “Can’t.”
Cassie’s smile falters. Her eyes drop to the duffel at my feet.
“What’s that?”
“All my stuff.” My voice catches. “Dolores kicked me out.”
She blinks, the words not landing yet. “What?”
“She said I’m eighteen now. The government stops paying, so I have to go. Said she’s not running a charity.”
Cassie’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Her face looks as if she’s just been slapped.
Finally, she manages, “She can’t… she can’t do that.”
“She can.” I force my voice to steady. “And she did. It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”
Cassie grabs my arm. “No, it’s not fine. Where are you gonna stay?”
“I said I’ll figure it out.” I yank my arm back, harder than I mean to.
“Sky, stop acting like this is normal—”
“It is normal.” The words come fast, sharp, too loud. “You think I haven’t seen this shit before? You think Dolores didn’t do the same thing to the last three kids? This is what she does. It’s my turn now.”
Cassie flinches, and I hate how much I notice it.
“I’m just trying to help.” Her voice drops, soft and breaking.
“I don’t need your help Cass. I’ve got to start doing things on my own now.”
And that’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
The bell rings but it barely cuts through. The sound’s there, but it feels far away, like it’s coming from underwater.
School’s over.
People move, scraping chairs, laughing too loud, but it all washes past me.