After Dad Abandoned Me, My Aunt's Family Spoiled Me into Harvard

1: 1

After Mom died, before Dad had even finished with the funeral, he brought the other woman home.

She cradled her belly, put on a delicate little cry, and said seeing me was bad for the baby.

My father turned right around, packed me up, and put me on a rusty green train headed somewhere I didn't know.

"Three people in this house is just right. Your mom has a sister. Go find her."

By the time I got off that train, I'd already braced myself for scavenging in the streets.

My aunt had married far away to the rural Midwest when she was young, and we'd never once met.

I'd heard she had a son of her own about to sit for the SATs. What time would she have for me?

But the moment I stepped out of the station, there was my aunt with a whole crowd of family behind her.

My northern grandmother pressed a thick stack of hundreds straight into my hand, her voice loud and bright.

"What are you standing there for? Take it, buy yourself some snacks. Anybody dares bully you, Grandma Delgado'll whack them with her cane."

And my aunt broke through the crowd and pulled me into her arms.

"From now on I'm your real mama. My sister didn't leave me much, but she left me you. I've got to keep you safe for her."

My six-foot-three uncle hunched his neck and nodded like a scared little bird.

"Whatever my wife says goes. That goose stew's gonna cook to mush if we wait, so let's all get in the car."

My cousin, all fierce scowl, grabbed my suitcase and chucked it in the trash.

"This thing's older than I am. What are you keeping it for? Tomorrow your real mama's taking you shopping."

I froze where I stood, and my eyes, dry for so long, suddenly broke like a dam.

So it turned out I wasn't one too many after all?

"You silly girl, what are you standing there like a lump for? Tears all over your face, the wind's gonna chap your skin raw in a minute."

My aunt lifted a hand and gently wiped the tears off my face, her eyes full of ache for me.

She looked so much like Mom that for a while I couldn't tell where I was.

My cousin grabbed a half-melted popsicle and shoved it right up to my mouth.

"Kids up here all look like little porcelain dolls, and here you are, skinny as a dried-up green bean."

My aunt smacked him across the back of the head.

"Will Delgado, that any way to talk to your sister? Asking to get whacked?"

Then she turned back and softened her voice to coax me.

"Don't be scared, Clemmie, he's just running his mouth. Ignore him. Get in, we're going home."

She tucked me into the back seat of the Range Rover, my aunt and grandmother on either side of me, each holding one of my hands.

Once she was in the car, the more my aunt thought about it, the angrier she got.

"That dog Barret Dickerson, off gallivanting God knows where when my sister passed."

"And now look. Just tosses the kid on a train, too cheap to even spring for a sleeper ticket."

"He'd better watch out my sister doesn't come back for him from the grave. He'll get what's coming to him sooner or later."

I went stiff at once, pressed my knees tighter together, and started apologizing on reflex.

"I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

"I won't take up any space, I eat very little, and I can work too, I won't be any trouble to you."

After Mom died, this was how I'd always curled into a corner. As long as I looked obedient, I got hit a little less.

My uncle stamped hard on the brake and looked at me in the rearview mirror, aching for me.

The car went silent all at once.

My aunt turned around and pulled me into her arms.

"My poor silly girl, what are you apologizing for?"

She smelled of the same laundry soap as Mom, and I couldn't stop the memory of the night before I left.

The other woman sat on the sofa, not even lifting her eyelids, cutting the clothes my mom had bought me to pieces, one by one.

"The doctor said unstable moods during pregnancy are bad for the baby. A little stress relief is good for its development."

Dad stood right there, said nothing, and just smiled and handed her the clothes one at a time.

My aunt patted my back, over and over, her voice rough.

"We're home now. There won't be any more of that hurt again."

The car finally stopped in front of a little house with a yard.

The yard was planted with all kinds of vegetables, and there was a grape trellis too.

Grandma hopped out, all delight, and shooed a bunch of fuzzy little things out of the yard.

Baby chicks, baby ducks, and one little piglet grunting away.

"Come here, girl. These are all for you to play with. Grandma's raising them to keep you company."

My cousin waggled his eyebrows at me with a wicked grin.

"Go on and play. Play with them and they won't say a peep."

"Just remember, come New Year's, of the ten dishes on your table, eight of them are your little playmates."

Once my uncle parked, he lifted the lid off the big iron pot in the yard, and the smell of meat spread out all at once.

"Goose stew's done, perfect timing, let's crack it open and eat. Go wash your hands."

In that rising cloud of steam, the nerves I'd kept tight for so long finally loosened, just a little.

2: 2

That first dinner, I couldn't keep my head on straight.

Aunt Marla kept piling meat into my bowl until it stood in a little mountain.

"Eat more. Look how skinny you are, it'd make a wolf cry."

Grandma dropped a goose leg on top of it too.

"A young girl's got to eat plenty of meat. A little meat on the bones, that's what looks good."

Uncle Dale grinned that easy grin of his and pushed a plate of sweet-and-sour crispy pork in front of me.

"This one's got a sweet-and-sour taste to it. Give it a try, see if you like it."

I kept my head down and shoveled rice, careful not to let the tears fall into my bowl.

Back home, Dad always said girls would get married off sooner or later, and if I wanted to eat, I'd better earn it somehow.

And my stepmother was always telling him a girl had to watch her figure.

So after I finished every last chore, all I got was greens and tofu. It had been a long time since I'd had meat.

The moment dinner was over, I jumped up and followed them into the kitchen to help.

Terrified that if I was one step too slow I'd leave a bad impression, and one day they'd just send me packing.

But I'd barely picked up the dish rag when a big hand reached in from behind me.

Will, scowling, hoisted me off the floor one-handed and set me right back down on the living room couch.

"Who're you trying to shame here? Hold your hands out, let me see."

I obediently held them out.

He pinched my wrist and turned it over, his brow knitting even tighter.

"You think you're cut out for this kind of work? Look at these soft little hands. Go rest, now."

Done scolding me, he dug a fistful of plump white hazelnuts out of his pocket and poured the whole clattering handful into my palms.

"Here. Go crack these open and keep yourself busy."

I closed my hands around them, his warmth still there in my palms.

Aunt Marla saw the look on my face and smiled, then reached over and tucked me against her to watch TV with Grandma.

"Silly girl. This is your home. You came here to live, not to be the maid."

That night, lying in the soft warm bedding, I couldn't sleep again.

It all felt like a dream, too good to be real, and I was afraid that once I woke, the dream would end too.

But from that day on, it happened every single day.

Grandma rode her trike to the early market before dawn, and came back with the cargo bed full of good things.

Crisp melon so sweet it caught in your throat, fried dough straight out of the pan, soy milk still steaming.

"Sweetheart, Grandma got you a breakfast wrap too. Come eat it while it's hot."

Uncle Dale was even more over the top, at least four hearty dishes every meal, and never the same menu twice in one day.

Aunt Marla was just like Mom, always eager to buy me new clothes and dress me up like a sweet country girl.

Will grumbled about it every day. "How come I never get treated like this?"

One glare from Aunt Marla and he clammed right up.

But he still crouched down to tie my shoes, reminded me to dry my hair, and walked on the outside of me whenever we went out.

In less than a month, my cheeks filled out and my color came back.

I started to crave that warmth, and grew even more afraid of losing it.

One night I got up to use the bathroom and happened to glimpse Aunt Marla in the little room, lighting incense before Mom's portrait.

"Sis, don't you worry. I'll raise our girl into someone to be proud of, I promise you. You can rest easy now."

"I won't let her suffer any more."

I clapped a hand over my mouth, backed away without a sound, and crouched in the corner a long time.

When I got up, I had my fists clenched tight. I could not be a burden to this family.

Aunt Marla had shaken me awake to it. I had to work hard, so the people who loved me could truly rest easy.

Ever since Mom got sick half a year ago, I'd been lost in a fog, and I'd fallen far behind in my studies.

The textbooks in the North weren't the same as the South's either, so catching up now meant every problem felt like starting from scratch.

I threw myself into studying like a madwoman.

Up before dawn every day memorizing vocabulary, never in bed before two in the morning.

A week later, I sat with a math test in my hands, staring at the glaring red X marks, so frustrated the tears just kept coming.

That night, Will kicked my bedroom door open.

He snatched the test out of my hands, his face full of disgust.

"Are you a tangled ball of yarn come to life? How do you get these easy problems wrong?"

His mouth was harsh, but his hand picked up a red pen, and he sat down beside me.

"Watch close. This is the point they're testing you on, got it? A sparrow's got more wits than you."

When he finished, he tossed the workbook back in front of me.

"Bring me the corrections tomorrow. Stop walking around every day with your brain all gummed up."

He had his own SATs to prepare for, yet he gave up every scrap of his free time to be my teacher.

In two years, my grades shot up from the bottom of the class all the way to number one in the whole school.

I looked at my report card, at the name Clementine Henson, already changed to share Aunt Marla's surname.

For the first time, I understood that being loved without reserve really could work miracles.

But I never imagined it was only a brief calm before the storm.

3: 3

On the day of the senior class rally, the grade dean read my name out from the stage.

"Clementine Henson has earned priority admission to a top university. She is the pride of this school."

"As long as she performs on the SATs the way she should, the doors are wide open for her. Let's all congratulate her together."

Down in the audience, Aunt Marla, Uncle Dale, and Grandma sat in the front row, more thrilled than I was.

Uncle Dale got so worked up he shot to his feet and started clapping.

"Look at that, that's my girl too. Two top students in one family now. We ought to change the spa's sign to the Honors House."

Before he could finish, Aunt Marla yanked him down by the hem of his shirt.

"Sit down, would you. Don't embarrass the girl."

But Aunt Marla went through half a pack of tissues just wiping her own eyes.

That night the whole family threw me a celebration dinner on the top floor of Uncle Dale's bathhouse spa.

Grandma raised her glass, her face flushed and glowing.

"My granddaughter really made something of herself. Here, Grandma's drinking to you."

Will lounged with a toothpick in his mouth, one leg crossed over the other.

"All right, all right, don't let it go to your head. The SATs aren't over yet."

That was what his mouth said, but he was grinning so wide you could practically see straight down his throat.

I smiled and clinked his glass.

Right then, a familiar number lit up my phone.

I hesitated, then picked up anyway.

"Clemmie, sweetheart, are you doing okay over at your aunt's?"

"You haven't even met your little brother yet. He's almost two now, he can say 'sister.'"

"We all miss you so much. Daddy even mailed you some new clothes. They should get there in a couple of days."

The hand holding my glass went stiff. The whole table turned to look at me.

Aunt Marla saw my face change, put down her chopsticks at once, and her tone shifted.

"Who is that?"

I didn't say anything.

"Clemmie? Did you hear me? Your mom and dad both miss you."

"My mom is dead."

The whole table fell silent.

After a long moment, my father let out a laugh and changed his tone.

"Fine. Daddy's got something real to talk to you about. You know that old house your mom left behind?"

"That whole block is about to be cleared for redevelopment. You're still young, you wouldn't understand all the paperwork on the deed."

"Why don't you come back for a trip, sign your name, and Daddy will handle the rest for you."

"The money from selling it can go straight to your college tuition. Call it a little something from your mom."

My heart sank. So that was what he was after.

That house was my grandfather's, left to my mom before she married, hers alone.

On her deathbed she'd transferred it into my name. It was the last thing she left me to hold on to.

For years he hadn't sent a single word. Now that the house was getting torn down for payout, suddenly he remembered he had a daughter.

"I'm not signing. That house was my mom's. You're not getting one cent of it."

On the other end, the tender loving-father act ripped apart in an instant, and he started cursing.

"You ungrateful little brat. I fed you and put a roof over you all those years, and you can't even sign your name for me?"

"Just like your mother, a worthless waste born under a bad star. Nothing but money pits, the both of you."

"Let me tell you, that house is mine. That's final."

I was shaking with rage, barely able to keep hold of the phone.

Aunt Marla snatched it out of my hand and let loose on him with a stream of curses that shook the roof.

She went at him for a good ten minutes and never repeated herself once.

"You call my girl one more time and see if I don't haul a plane over there and beat you with it."

Then she hung up, clean and quick, and blocked the number.

She turned around, the fury dropping off her face in a second, and pulled me in, shaking as I was.

"Don't take any of it to heart. Aunt Marla's here."

Uncle Dale chimed in. "The sky could fall and Uncle Dale would hold it up. Don't think about a thing, just focus on your exams."

Will flicked his toothpick onto the table and gave a cold snort.

"He dares show up here, I'll make sure he walks in standing and leaves flat on his back."

Grandma thumped her cane on the floor. "That deadbeat sets foot in the Midwest, I'll be the first one to take him down."

A few days later, the package my father mailed arrived.

A crumpled plastic bag, stuffed with a few pieces of static-clinging street-stall junk.

At the very bottom was a bib covered in dried food stains.

Will came over, took one look, and threw the whole bag in the trash.

"Just how big is the hole in your dad's head? He actually mailed you his son's used stuff?"

That's my father for you. He genuinely believes that mailing a few ratty clothes counts as fatherly love.

And I knew this wasn't going to end so easily.

A man like that will do anything for money.

4: 4

Two weeks later, I was in study hall.

The dean appeared in the classroom doorway, face grim, and beckoned to me.

Something dropped in my stomach. A bad feeling.

The moment I walked into the principal's office, I saw my father sitting on the couch.

He wore a sharp, pressed suit, his hair slicked back and shining.

Beside him sat the stepmother, dressed just as flashy, and a man I didn't know.

The second he saw me, he shot to his feet and put on his loving-father face, arms spread wide.

"Clemmie, look at you, all grown up. Come here and let your dad get a look at you."

I dodged his hands and moved to the side, waiting for him to show what he'd really come for.

He didn't even look embarrassed. He cleared his throat and slid a donation form across the desk to the principal.

"This is a little something from the two of us. Thirty thousand to the school, to upgrade the equipment."

"Clemmie's always been a difficult child. She's never understood the sacrifices we make as parents."

"I came here to take her back down South with me."

"The schools there are better, after all. Better for her future."

The stepmother chimed in, all soft and gentle.

"That's right, Clemmie. Your dad talks about you every single day. We only want what's best for you."

The stranger stood up and handed the principal a household registration book and another stack of documents.

"I'm the attorney Mr. Dickerson has retained. I'm here to assist with this matter."

"Under the law, my client has the right to choose which school his child attends."

"We are now requesting that the school immediately process the cancellation of Clementine Dickerson's enrollment."

Principal Ross, the talent-loving old man, lifted a hand and pushed the papers back.

"Clementine is one of our key students. The SATs are almost here. Transferring at a time like this..."

"Which is exactly why I came in person. At such an important moment, how could I not worry, as her father?"

The principal didn't want me to go, but there was nothing he could do. He just sighed.

"Clementine, look... he is your real father. And this is for your own good."

"Legally, he does have the right to decide."

My father turned and stepped up close, leaning to my ear, dropping his voice.

"Be a good girl and come back with me. Sign the papers on the house, and after that you can go to school anywhere you want."

"Otherwise I'll make sure you don't even sit the SATs. You don't want all those years of hard work wasted, do you?"

I stepped back, jaw clenched, staring him down.

"I will never go back with you. Not if I'm dying."

The stepmother covered her mouth, putting on a heartbroken face.

"Clemmie, Mommy knows you have your issues with me, but your father truly wants the best for you."

"Shut up. You're not my mother. Don't stand there making me sick."

"And you. Playing the loving father? The only reason you came here today is to steal the house my mom left me."

Called out in front of everyone, my father dropped the act completely.

"You little brat. Grown some wings, have you?"

"I gave you life, I raised you all these years, and this is how you talk to me?"

"Let me tell you something. You're my daughter. I want to take you, and nobody can stop me!"

And he grabbed my wrist, half-dragging, half-hauling me toward the door.

I stumbled, my heel catching the threshold, and I nearly went down.

The principal stood to block him, but the lawyer held him off with the documents.

"Mr. Dickerson is the legal guardian. He's exercising a lawful right."

Out in the hall, students were craning their heads to look in. Someone called my name.

I wrenched my arm back with everything I had, but his fingers dug into my wrist until the bone ached.

He was about to drag me out the office door.

A huge bang.

The office door was kicked open from the outside.

The fire door at the end of the hall was kicked open from the outside, the iron door slamming into the wall and rebounding.

"Let me see who thinks they're taking my girl today."