Chapter 3

I took the old fabric samples back out of Janet's hands. "No."

She blinked. "You never used to keep score with me."

"I'm keeping score now."

"Cecil said you've been short-tempered lately. So it's true."

I packed the sketches my father had mailed into my travel bag.

She looked at the emptied shelf and pointed at another box.

"What about those sweaters? If you don't want them, I could pass them on to Cecil for you."

There were more than thirty sweaters in that box.

Cecil got cold easily, and I'd knitted for him four years running.

He thought hand-knit clothes weren't presentable enough, so he only wore them when he had nothing clean left.

I picked up the scissors.

Janet stopped me. "What are you doing? Cecil will be upset if he finds out."

"They're mine. I'll deal with them myself."

The scissors came down.

When the first sweater fell into two halves, my wrist was shaking the whole time.

Cecil's call chased me down. "Dinner tonight at the usual place. I'll smooth things over between you and Janet."

"There's no need," I said.

"The table's already booked. Don't keep everyone waiting."

The line went dead.

At that little restaurant, Janet's clay boots were sitting in the seat where I always sat.

Cecil was peeling duck meat for her. When he saw I hadn't come in, he followed me out to the door.

"You came all this way, why won't you come in?"

I looked at those boots. "There's no seat for me."

"Just move the boots, that's all. Janet's been on her feet all day, they hurt, she was only resting them a second."

Janet called out through the window. "Serena, come in already. Cecil ordered all my favorites, you should try some too."

I asked Cecil, "Do you still remember what I like to eat?"

He frowned. "It's just dinner and now there's a quiz? You didn't used to be this hard to get along with."

"Go keep her company."

"Here we go again. Tomorrow's the final review for the graduation pieces. Can't you act your age?"

The preview list for the final review was right there on the department board.

The double-walled vase I'd worked on for half a year was first in line, but the lead-creator column read Janet Fox, and my name had been shoved to the very bottom, under "clay assistance."

Cecil came up behind me, his tone softening a little. "I changed the submission paperwork. Janet needs this award. You don't."

I stared at those two words, a ringing filling my ears.

That vase was made with the red clay my father had carried down from the mountains in South Ridge.

His old injury in his right hand had flared up, and he'd still ridden more than ten hours to bring the clay to the school.

I said, "Change the name back."

Cecil shook his head. "The preview's already started. Swap the lead creator now and Janet loses her recommendation eligibility. Besides, whoever's name is on the piece, it doesn't change that you made it."

"If it doesn't change anything, then why not put my name on it?"

Janet hurried over, her eyes red-rimmed. "I'm only borrowing it this once. Once I get the recommendation slot, I'll tell people you helped too."

"It wasn't help. I made the piece by myself."

Cecil stepped in front of her. "Are you really set on ruining her future? Serena, you've won so many awards already. Is one fewer going to kill you?"

I pressed my student ID against the edge of the board. "Fine. Give it to her."

He let out a breath. "That's more like it. Once the exhibition's over, I'll make it up to you. We'll share one studio from now on. Why split things into yours and mine?"

"No need."

At the South Side ticket office, there was only one sleeper ticket left, for two days out.

The clerk asked, "South Ridge is over thirty hours on the train. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"This train leaves at one in the morning. Miss it and there's no refund."

"I won't miss it."

I gripped the ticket in my palm, the stiff paper edge pressing a red line into my skin.

My father called, his words slurred. "Don't come back. There's no future here. Cecil's got talent. Stay with him and build a good life."

I held the receiver close. "Dad, I found a job."

"Where?"

"Not far from home."

After the call ended, Cecil sent me an invitation. "The final review ceremony is tomorrow. Remember to wear the dress I picked out for you. Janet's accepting the award, so come up on stage for a photo too."

I glanced at the ticket.

Two days left until the train.