Chapter 3: The Girls on the Porch
“Don’t open it,” Stacy whispered.
The doorbell rang again.
My husband looked from Stacy to me, but I walked into the hall.
“Mom, please.”
“You invited them.”
“I invited them to see something else.”
I opened the door.
Three girls stood on the porch.
I recognized Madison and Chloe immediately.
The third girl was Emma—the one whose parents expected her to save for half of her own car.
Madison leaned sideways, trying to see the driveway.
“Where is it?”
“There isn’t a Tesla,” Stacy said behind me.
Chloe blinked.
“What?”
Stacy held up the key.
Her fingers were shaking.
“She got me a twelve-year-old Corolla.”
Madison gave a short laugh.
“Seriously?”
“It’s a 2012,” my husband said.
“And it passed a full inspection.”
“No one asked about the inspection,” Stacy snapped.
Emma’s eyes moved to the key.
“You got a car?”
Stacy stared at her.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Yes.
You got a car.”
Madison pulled out her phone.
“Wait.
Is this some kind of prank?”
“It isn’t a prank,” I said.
“Stacy made an assumption.”
“You let me make it!” Stacy cried.
“You heard me talking about colors and chargers for weeks.”
“And every time, I chose not to lie to you.”
“You knew what I believed.”
My husband folded his arms.
“Believing something because you announced it to your friends doesn’t make it a promise.”
Madison whispered something to Chloe.
Both girls covered their smiles.
“Stop it,” Emma said.
Madison looked at her.
“What?”
“She got a free car.
Why are you laughing?”
“It’s not free,” Stacy said.
“It costs me my entire social life.”
Emma’s face tightened.
“My dad’s been working Saturdays so I can have half of one someday.”
Stacy looked away.
“I didn’t mean you.”
“You did at school.”
The words landed harder than any raised voice could have.
Madison stepped backward.
“We should probably go.”
“You came for breakfast,” Stacy said quickly.
“Just come inside.”
Chloe checked her phone.
“Maybe another time.”
They turned toward the sidewalk.
Emma remained on the porch for one extra second.
“A Corolla isn’t embarrassing, Stacy,” she said.
“Making your mother feel small for buying it is.”
Stacy shut the door before Emma reached the steps.
“I hope you’re happy,” she said to me.
“Happy?”
“You humiliated me in front of everyone.”
“I opened my own front door.”
“You planned this!”
“No.
I changed a gift after hearing how you spoke about me.”
Her phone began buzzing on the kitchen table.
Once.
Twice.
Then without stopping.
Stacy rushed over and grabbed it.
“What did they do?” my husband asked.
Stacy’s thumb moved across the screen.
“They didn’t do anything.”
“Then why are you shaking?” I asked.
She turned the phone over, but not before I saw the bright red symbol at the top of the screen.
“Stacy,” I said slowly, “were you broadcasting this?”
May you like
She pressed both hands over her mouth.
The livestream counter showed 417 viewers.
