5. Nessa

Just days before the ball, I admire myself in the mirror, draped in a luxurious silk dress—a splurge courtesy of Ethan's promise to Poppy. The fabric, outrageously expensive yet irresistibly smooth, is a testament to his unexpected perfection. It fits me like a glove, a blend of sophistication and daring that somehow feels just right.

Trailing my hand along the silk material, its texture sends shivers up my spine. The dress, a masterful blend of black-and-red silk, clings to my tall, lithe form like a shadow caressing the night. It's bold, a bit scandalous even, with a slit that runs daringly high up my leg, offering glimpses of skin with each movement.

The bodice, adorned with intricate red lace over black silk, accentuates my curves in a tempting display of both concealment and revelation. The lace crawls up to form a high neckline, a stark contrast to the plunging back, which leaves much of my skin tantalizingly bare.

Sheer black lace sleeves envelop my arms, the delicate fabric contrasting sharply with the bold red cuffs peeking through at my wrists. It feels gothic yet undeniably sexy, a dress designed not just to be seen but to make a statement.

I turn, admiring how the layered skirt flows around my legs, the subtle interplay of red under black creating an illusion of flickering flames. It's more than just a dress; it's a declaration of my boldness, a testament to a confidence I'm still learning to embrace.

In this dress, I feel powerful, sexy, and daring. It's a far cry from my usual style, but now I'm not just any girl. I'm a siren, ready to test the limits of Liam's promise and challenge the boundaries of my own comfort zone.

I was taken aback when Ethan told me that Liam would be my date for the ball. After our last encounter, I was sure that whatever spark might have been there had fizzled out in the awkwardness of his rejection. But here we are, going to the ball together.

I remember standing at my apartment door, the cool night air mingling with the heat of disappointment when he declined my bold invitation. His polite refusal, the regret in his eyes, was a letdown, yet not unkind. There was an undeniable tension, a connection that neither of us could act upon, leaving us both in a limbo of what-ifs.

And then, out of the blue, he steps in as my date for this ball. The surprise of it left me reeling, a whirl of emotions that I couldn't quite place. Part of me feels almost giddy, like a thirteen-year-old girl who still believes in fairy tales and happy endings. It is a feeling I haven't allowed myself to experience in years, always too caught up in the harsh realities of my life.

I try to look unbothered with the girls, not to show them how pathetic my teenage years have been, but this ball, something as trivial as a college dance, suddenly feels monumental—a symbol of the freedom and normalcy I crave.

In just a few days, I'll be attending my first formal event since… well, forever. After juvie, my parents tightened their grip so much that I barely saw the outside of our house, so prom had been a no-go.

They were adamant that my future was ruined, destined for nothing more than a mundane life at the local supermarket.

I thought that my scholarship to Silverbrook would change their view of my future, but I should have known better, and it made everything so much worse.

I remember that day at my parents' house, the conversation that turned into a confrontation. It's like a wound that never fully heals.

In my mind's eye, I'm back in the living room of my childhood home. The walls, once familiar, now loom over me, heavy with the weight of accusations and deep-seated disappointments. My parents sit across from me, their expressions a complex tapestry of frustration and resignation.

"You can't seriously be considering going," my dad says, his words filled with disbelief and anger. "After everything that's happened, you think you can just… leave?"

"I'm not thinking, Dad. I am leaving," I respond, my voice steady despite the tension inside.

My mom chimes in, her words sharp like knives. "You have no future there, Vanessa. You think some fancy college will overlook your past? You belong here, where we can… keep an eye on you. You're a train wreck. You need to be with your family."

Her words hurt me deeply. They would never have faith in me. "I don't belong here," I counter. "I've never belonged here. You've never understood me—not my deafness, not my choices, nothing."

"I forbid you!" my father barks, standing up, his face red.

"You forbid me?" I snort. "Do that, and I'll let everybody know how you're stopping me from getting a chance at a future."

My mother's face pales; yes, she enjoys being the victim with her Bible-thumping friends. She wouldn't want to be the villain.

"You will fail!" my mother spits. "You have no rigor, no sense of right or wrong. I'm not sure what will become of you alone on the East Coast."

I shrug. "Then imagine how good it will feel to give me a good I told you so"

My mother sighs, speaking volumes of her exasperation. "Vanessa, after everything that's happened, you should be grateful we're still here for you. Your… incident at the wedding, and now this scholarship. You're not thinking straight."

"Maybe, for once, she is," my sister Lily interjects, her face reflecting her bitterness. She's been glaring the whole time since, clearly not over the prank I pulled at her wedding. Frankly, that was over two years ago, and it was not even that bad, but the heathen could hold grudges like no one else. "Maybe she'll be found dead in a ditch somewhere. Wouldn't that solve everything?"

I remember the sharp sting of her words, how they cut deeper than any punishment they had doled out. I was always the outsider, not just because of my deafness, but because of everything I was—my desires, my dreams, my defiance to be anything other than what they wanted me to be.

"Maybe I will. But at least I'll be free, Lily. Free from this… this prison you call a home." I snap back, the pent-up anger and hurt pouring out.

The room fell silent, the air heavy with unspoken truths and regrets. I realize with certainty that they will never forgive me for the antics I pulled, that they will always see me as a failure no matter what. Somehow, it is strangely liberating and also motivating because I decide right now, on this day, to live fully by my own moral code and to prove to them that their way is not the only way and that I will make myself happy.

My watch vibrates, bringing me back to reality, but the bitter taste of disappointment remains.

Eva: Classes are done. Want junk food?

I smile, reaching for my phone on the desk.

Me: Always.

Poppy: Yes please! I'll be home soon. I'll get the dessert.

Sitting on my bed, I let out a contented sigh. Here, at Silverbrook, I'm thriving. My grades are good, and with Poppy and Eva, I've found my tribe. I know I made the right choice. The more time I spend here, the more I realize that it wasn't me who was toxic; it was my environment.

I look forward to the ball with a sense of anticipation I haven't felt in years. With Liam as my date, it feels like stepping into a story where the ending is yet unwritten. For once, I'm just a regular college student, eager for a dance and intrigued by the enigmatic man who will accompany me.

As I carefully store away the dress, Eva breezes into the room, the delicious aroma of fried chicken announcing her arrival before I even see her.

She beams at me, pushing up her glasses as I walk into the living room, and points to the big bucket of chicken she set on the counter.

"I might have gone overboard, but after your tough test this morning, I figured… why not?"

Grinning, I grab a wing, playfully waving it at her. "There's no such thing as too much chicken!" My response is half teasing, half-serious.

The kindness and care Eva and Poppy have shown me in these few months starkly contrast the indifference I experienced at home. It's a simple thing, really—caring for someone. But it requires a willingness to put in the effort, something my parents never seemed to possess.

It's not hard to be kind to someone, to genuinely care—you just need to want to.

I feel more and more compelled to tell them about my deafness.

My thoughts are interrupted as Poppy bursts through the door, her energy infectious despite the precarity of her financial situation, and she's carrying dessert, a triumphant look on her face.

"Guess who aced her presentation and is treating herself to dessert?" she announces, placing a box of assorted pastries on the table.

I can't help but tease her, "Oh, is this a celebratory feast for your upcoming date with Ethan?"

She rolls her eyes but can't hide her smile. "Oh, shut it, Nessa. You're one to talk with your ‘not a date' with Liam!"

I chuckle, snagging another chicken wing as I sit at the counter. "Date? More like I'm hoping for a hot night. Lord, I hope so."

Eva laughs, joining in the banter. "A ‘hot night'? And here I was, thinking you were all about coffee and murder shows."

I smirk, taking another bite. "Coffee, murder shows, and a bit of sweaty hot sex—I'm not a complex woman."

Poppy snorts. "That's fair enough." She grabs a wing from the bucket and it makes me happy to see. She's less cautious about taking shared food, and I noticed she's starting to put on a little bit of weight and it warms my heart. I can see in Eva's smile that she's happy to see Poppy eat.

I grab her by the shoulders and give her a side hug. I am not big on physical contact; it's not something I'm familiar with or really got growing up, but I'm getting used to giving more of it to the people I appreciate.

Eva turns on the TV, and we migrate toward the sofa with the food and the lush pastries Poppy brought.

It's a show about drama in a ballerina school, and the girls are used to leaving the subtitles on. They never asked me why I wanted them, and I never explained.

I open my mouth, about to reveal my truth, when a ballerina comes on screen, and I can't help but snort. "This is silly. Look at her hips! No way she can hold that p0se at all."

Poppy turns toward me as the girl keeps on dancing like an idiot on the screen. "You seem to know a lot about dance?"

I shrug. "I used to dance a lot when I was younger. You know, a child ballerina."

"Why stop? You have the lithe body for it," Poppy continues between her big bites of dessert.

"And the grace too!" Eva adds with a little shake of her head "I never hear you appear in a room."

I never hear you appear, either, I want to joke, but maybe another time. I smile. "Life decided otherwise."

I don't miss the way Eva flexes her left hand as if she can feel my words. "Yeah, life has a tendency to do that." I don't need to hear her voice to sense the sorrow. It's etched all over her face.

I am about to admit my deafness when my watch vibrates with an incoming video call from my parents. I instinctively press "reject," puzzled by their attempt to reach me. It's unusual; they haven't called since I moved to Silverbrook.

My watch vibrates again, and I look to see they are calling back, and I sigh. It's close to dinnertime at home, and my mother is as strict on her schedule as she is on her own biblical rules. So it might be best to get the call now and suffer for a few minutes than potentially have to live through a never-ending one.

"Excuse me for a sec," I say to the girls, slipping into my room. I pick up my phone and, with a resigned sigh, accept the video call.

As I answer the call, my mother's face materializes on the screen. Her familiar frown, the deep lines of disapproval etched around her mouth, instantly transport me back to countless similar conversations. "Mom, hi. How are you doing?" I ask, my voice strained as I attempt a semblance of normalcy.

She skips the pleasantries. "Have you checked your emails recently?"

"Yes, why?" I trail off, unsure of what the issue is.

Her scowl deepens. "And when were you planning to answer?"

I hesitate. "I didn't think it was urgent. I'm not even sure about my break dates yet."

She cuts to the chase. "I need to know when you're coming home."

The word "never" is on the tip of my tongue. "Coming home for what?"

"It's important for you to be with your family."

"Since when?" I can't hide the skepticism in my voice.

My mother sighs, the taut lines around her mouth and eyes reflecting her frustration.

"I can't afford the plane ticket. I'm not coming."

"We're willing to pay for your plane ticket, Vanessa Claire."

Willing?I want to snort. Why is she making it feel like it's a favor to me? When there's probably a hidden reason for why she's asking me home? Is she in need of milking the pity cow again? I am tired of lying, of playing games. I'm not that girl anymore. "I don't want to come."

She nods, her face hardening. "If you don't come, I won't give you your allowance."

My heart sinks. "You can't do that. It's Grandad's money." My grandfather, the only family member who truly cared for me, had set up a college fund, but since the wedding incident, my parents have controlled it, doling out five hundred dollars a month.

"Maybe not permanently, but long enough to make you feel it," she threatens.

Frustration boils within me. "Why do you even want me there?"

"Because we're a family," she states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Laughing softly at the sheer absurdity of the situation, I shake my head in disbelief. My family has never truly acted like one, not in any meaningful sense. Yet, here I am, presented with a golden opportunity to show them the person I've become—strong, independent, and unafraid. This is my moment to defy their bleak predictions and prove that I am not the failure they expected.

"Fine, I'll send you the dates," I concede, feeling a strange sense of defiance and satisfaction. It's time they saw the new Vanessa, the one who isn't afraid to stand up for herself. The woman who's blooming far from their toxicity. It may be time for me to show them that they were what was wrong with my life and not the other way around.

"Good night, Mom. Have a great dinner," I add and hang up before she even gets a chance to add anything else.

I don't want to give her more chances to argue and bring me down today. I'm excited—I'm going to a proper ball in a ridiculously expensive evening dress with a stunning older Brit guy.

Hanging up, I'm enveloped in a newfound determination. This ball is more than just a dance; it's a declaration of my independence, a chance to show the world—and myself—who Vanessa really is. I head back to the living room, ready to savor the simple joys of the present, leaving the shadows of my past where they belong.

I return to the living room, where Eva and Poppy wait with curious eyes. "Family drama," I explain with a shrug, not wanting their night to be dampened by my issues.

Poppy nudges me playfully. "Nothing that a good movie and junk food can't fix, right?" I smile, grateful for their light-heartedness.

Lying back on the couch, I let the laughter of my friends wash over me, their presence a soothing balm to the chaos of my thoughts. "You know, I never had a prom," I say, more to myself than to them. "This ball… it's like getting a piece of that back."

Eva squeezes my hand, and Poppy raises her glass. "To second chances and new beginnings," she toasts, and we clink our glasses in a moment of solidarity.

I feel the remaining weight on my chest lift at once. No matter what happens in California, I know it's not permanent, and the fact that I'll be coming back here to my new family makes it all better.