Seeing that Dad was serious, Mom let out a cold scoff.
"Go ahead. Keep spoiling her."
"She turned out this way because of you."
I watched Mom clutch my brother tighter, seething in silence.
I didn't understand her. Dad didn't like me any more than she did.
Today, all he'd done was worry that something might have happened to me—said two sentences on my behalf—and she acted like he'd betrayed her.
When they got home, the doorway was empty. They assumed I'd already come back.
Dad went straight to my room. He looked at the tangled sheets on my bed and frowned.
"She's not in here. Did either of you find her?"
Mom had collapsed onto the couch. Grandma emerged from the side bedroom. Both shook their heads.
Then came a knock at the door.
Mom shot to her feet, grabbed the broom from beside the entrance, and raised it like she was ready to swing.
"You little brat, I swear you—"
"What on earth are you all doing this late at night?"
Stella Chavez, our neighbor from next door, cut Mom off mid-sentence.
Mom forced an awkward smile, but before she could get a word out, Stella's gaze dropped to the broom in her hand.
"What are you doing with that broom?"