and dirty backpacks. The weathered women with cynical slants to their bodies made me want to run. One lugged a suitcase behind her on wheels, probably with everything she owned in the world inside it. They robbed me of my voice and scared me a little.
âDonât hesitate to work her hard. She needs the discipline,â Dad says.
âAll teenagers need discipline,â Stella says.
I squirm on my chair, the epitome of the privileged white girl. Heâs making sure it shows, but maybe he doesnât realize it exposes him for what he is too. Heâs intent on pretending heâs not spoiling me and that heâs in charge. In addition to working at New Beginnings for the rest of the summer, an idea I have no clue how he came up with, he also confiscated my phone. Itâs a toss-up which is worse, but he wonât give it back. Not until the end of the summer. I feel almost violated. Sick to my stomach. Iâm completely out of touch with everyone and everything. The loss makes me even more alone, if thatâs even possible at this point.
âWeâre short on servers right now. Or kitchen helpers.â Stella says it like itâs a question.
âServer,â I immediately say.
âYouâll work wherever they need you,â my dad snaps and then glances at his watch. âSpeaking of, I have to get back to work soon.â
âPlease. Go ahead,â Stella says. âIâll get the child started. Show her around.â
She says âchildâ and it makes me want to act like one. I want to yell and stomp my feet and have a temper tantrum. Iâve got so much anger inside and nowhere to put it, and I shiver, even though the office is warm and itâs hotter than normal outside. A small fan whirrs on Stellaâs desk, but it barely stirs up the air.
My dad stands, pulls his fancy car keys from his pocket, and jangles them on his finger. âIâm heading to Houston today, but Iâll see if Allie will pick you up.â He glances at Stella. âSheâll be done around six?â
Stella raises an eyebrow. âDay staff and volunteers usually clock out at two or three. She wonât be needed for the dinner service.â
I breathe out a sigh of relief.
âYouâre sure? Thatâs not even a full day.â
âWe donât want to burn our volunteers out,â she tells him. âShe can stay late some days if she wants to, but itâs not an obligation.â
He makes a sound in his throat. Itâs not directed at her, but she sits up a little straighter in her seat. âAllie canât make it at that time,â he says to me. âSheâs working.â My sister has a summer job with an engineering firm. She needs work experience to go along with her university degree, but she doesnât have to do her work for free.
âIâll take the bus,â I tell him and lift my chin. Pretend it doesnât make me nervous to be taking a bus from this part of town. I canât even remember the last time I used public transportation.
He jangles his keys and glances at Stella, and I can almost read his thoughts. He doesnât want me taking a bus from this neighborhood either, but he doesnât want to tell her that.
âSheâll be fine,â Stella says. âWe can have someone walk her to the bus stop if you want.â
That might be even worse. Dad nods and presses his lips tight. He stares out the door and briefly squeezes my shoulder. I pull away, and he frowns and spins, walking out of the room without a good-bye.
The air in the office lightens. Some of the chill leaves my skin, and the warmth of the building seeps in. I wrinkle my nose. It smells moldy. Stale. I imagine Nance. At home. Still asleep. With nothing pressing planned for her day except maybe shopping. For clothes and boys. I frown. Angry to be stuck here. Knowing I donât belong.
Stella leans back in her chair. âSo,â