“How dare you? How dare you stand there, looking like that, like her, taking her name, taking her place in this school! How—”
I’m prepared to take his abuse. I deserve it.
But then Mrs. White holds up an arm and rests it on her husband’s shoulder.
“Stop, please. I just want to look at her.” She looks me in the eyes and motions for me to come closer. Her own eyes well with tears at the sight of me, and I know that in the grand scheme of things I’ll be going straight to hell about one second after I take my last breath, which is probably coming sooner rather than later.
Kids like me don’t last long in juvie, or after.
But I do as she requests. I can’t look straight at her. I can’t look the woman I’ve stolen so much from in the eye. I promised myself I would never do it, never steal from the people who help me … but here I am. I’ve stolen more than I can ever replace.
She reaches out and strokes a strand of my hair.
“My god,” she murmurs. “You really do look just like her.”
I feel a stab of pain in my stomach. I can’t imagine how it feels to see me here, the spitting image of her dead daughter. I tried to replace something that cannot, should not, be replaced … and for that, I am truly damned.
But then Mrs. White turns to her husband and I’m sure I don’t hear her right when she speaks.
“Why not?” She looks at Mr. White, then Mr. Baxter and Ms. Mason. “I mean really … why not?”
Mr. White stares at her like she’s just lost her marbles. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, why not?” he asks, his voice a little softer, but not by much.
She looks from him, back to me, and shakes her head slowly as if she still can’t believe what she’s looking at. “John, our little girl is dead. There’s nothing we can do about it now. But her … what’s your name again, sweetie?”
“Teddy,” I answer in a haze. My own name feels foreign on my lips.
“Teddy … what a nice name.” She looks directly at her husband, and this time, her voice is more sure. “Teddy is very much alive. Why should we take this girl out of school here? Why waste the tuition we already paid?”
He blunders for words a moment. “Because … because she’s a liar and a thief!”
Mrs. White stands, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more determined woman in my life. “Spite won’t get us Sadie back,” she snaps.
Her husband isn’t the only one struck dumb. I still don’t fully understand what’s going on. She’s supposed to hate me, but she’s looking at me like, well, like I’m her own daughter. It makes the tears spill over again.
Mrs. White’s eyes soften, and she cups my face with her hand. Normally I’d shrink back from the touch, but I can’t, not when I still don’t understand how she can be so nice to me.
“I remember you, now, I think. From the funeral.” She glances at her husband. “Remember that awful woman? What was her name?”
It’s Mr. Baxter’s turn to interject. He clears his throat several times, and then waits for us to look his way.
“That brings us to the other problem here. I think the woman you’re referring to is Ms. Martin, Theodora’s foster mother.” He pulls out a file, and then pauses a second before sliding it across the table. “We made a few phone calls this morning, as soon as we figured out what was going on. Ms. Martin was very relieved to hear that Theodora is alright, but she also told us to look into the account under your daugh
ter’s name.”
He opens the top of the file. I don’t have to look. I know what’s there. The other accounts, well over two grand withdrawn at this point … probably closer to three. I have to close my eyes to keep the shame of it from overwhelming me. It really took Ms. Martin no time at all to make this even worse for me. Typical.
“This girl, this imposter …” Mr. White jabs a finger at me when I open my eyes. “Has stolen—”
“Enough!” Mrs. White’s composure dwindles for a moment. She grabs the file, takes one look at it, and tosses it across the room. “So what? It’s only money. We’re talking about a girl’s life here.”
Mrs. White sits down and stares back up at me. She takes either of my hands in hers, and that motherly look overcomes her face again. It’s almost too much to bear. I’ve never had anyone look at me like that before.
“Do you want to go back to your old life, Teddy?”
I scoff, then quickly apologize. “Sorry. I … what life?” I can’t help it, but the tears start up again. “All I wanted was to start over. I still shouldn’t have done it. I just, I just …”
“Enough.” This time, when she says it again, it’s soft and gentle.