It Started with Goodbye

Belén crossed and stood at the head of the table, towering over the three of us. “What kind of project, Matilda?”


Tilly sank in her seat a little bit and took a deep breath. “Tatum, why don’t you tell her?”

I smiled beatifically at my stepmother. “Well, Tilly was interested in making an online portfolio for college, and she asked me to help her. It seems to be something admissions panels might like, especially if it shows videos of her dancing.”

Tilly nodded her head furiously, catching on. “That’s right, Mama. The colleges we’ve been considering all require an art supplement in addition to an audition, so I thought this would be a creative way to do it. It would make me unique from the other applicants.” Nicely played, stepsister.

It was like watching the numbers on a slot machine line up. Belén’s face went from confused, to contemplative, and finally to accepting in a matter of seconds. She nodded slowly, like she was letting the idea of Tilly and me working together for a cause she actually supported marinate, sink down in the recesses of her mind until it popped back up on the surface. “That sounds very productive.”

Huh. I’d expected at least a little protest, especially since it was me doing the helping, but even Belén couldn’t deny that I had at least the basic skills. When I got rejected from MacIntosh, she’d acted like the outcome reflected poorly on her personally for some reason. She was weird like that. And then a lightning bolt rammed itself into my brain. What if she remembered my portfolio positively, and her annoyance at the rejection wasn’t directed at me, but the admissions peeps? Had I been looking at her behavior from the wrong angle this whole time? The idea that Belén was putting me first, in her own sometimes misguided way, was blowing my mind a little.

“Yes, it should be. We’ll get started once the girls go to bed,” I said, and smiled again, a real one this time.

Blanche looked from me to Tilly, to Belén, and then back to me. “What a wonderful sisterly endeavor, Tatum. You both are so busy, it’s no surprise you never get any quality time together.” Like that was the reason. Blanche turned her eyes to her daughter and grinned, full and wide, like she was trying to convince her. “Isn’t it wonderful, mi hija? Both of these talented young women working as a team.”

Belén nodded again and turned to Tilly, a slight smile playing on her lips. “You will show this to me before we send any applications.” Like they were applying as a team. Would it be Team Tatum when I applied to college too?

“Of course, Mama.”

Tilly and Belén finished their tea, then disappeared into the garage on their way out for the day—Belén to work and Tilly to rehearsal. I stayed at the table, pleased with my handiwork, slowly sipping my drink and thinking about making something with a higher caloric content for breakfast when Blanche poked me in the shoulder.

“What are you up to?”

I widened my eyes with feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

“That’s the first conversation I’ve seen you and Matilda have since I’ve been here.”

“I’m not allowed to talk to my stepsister?” I winked at her and took my empty tea cup to the sink.

“Of course you are. But I don’t believe for a second that you and Matilda made a plan ahead of time.”

I took two waffles from the freezer and popped them into the toaster. “That’s because we didn’t. But you aren’t the one who needed to believe it.”

“Is there really a website?”

“Yep. Well, there will be after I build it.”

“And is Matilda planning to use it in her applications?”

“She sure is.”

The toaster ejected my waffles and I put them on a plate. I turned back to Blanche, whose eyes were narrowed, but she was smiling as if to say that my explanation was good enough for her. I smiled angelically and took my waffles upstairs.




After Tilly got home from dance and showered—thank goodness, because dancing hard equals sweating buckets—I hustled her into the car.

“Have fun, girls,” Belén called after us. I almost tripped on her enthusiasm and pleasant tone.

“We will,” I called back. It was odd to exchange these little nicey-nice words with her. But I couldn’t say I didn’t like it, and that was odd too.

“She’s in a good mood,” I said to Tilly as we took off down the street, realizing that Belén had failed, for the first time, to check the mileage on my car. Blanche’s voice whispered in my ear about being more pleasant to Belén. Maybe there was something to that.

Tilly didn’t respond, but I noticed the corners of her mouth lift slightly. I took that as a good sign. When I opened the door to the Schmidt house, Tilly looked around, clearly puzzled by the emptiness.

“Where is everyone? Aren’t you supposed to be watching Maya and Kate?”

At the sound of her voice, Gus darted out of the kitchen toward us and wound himself around my ankles.

I started up the stairs, a confused Tilly following me cautiously, Gus prancing right behind her. “Yeah, about that. Maya and Kate are actually on an extended vacation with their parents.” I didn’t turn around to check, but I knew she must be shocked. I could feel it radiating off of her.

“And when you say extended vacation, does that mean this week? The last two weeks?”

At the top of the stairs, I turned and faced her with a smirk. “The whole summer, actually.”

Tilly’s expression floored me. Not only was she not judging me, she looked daunted and in awe. “You’ve been lying the whole time?”

I stood directly in front of her, hip cocked, hand on the wall. “I told you I could keep a secret.”

“But why?”

“What would you have done if you were me? In one fell swoop, I lost my dad, I lost my friend, and I lost what shaky trust I had from your mom and probably you too.” Her face colored. “I’ve been confined to my room and to manual labor for weeks now. And to top it off, it feels like there’s no one on my side.”

She looked away, embarrassed, and I sighed.

“I didn’t really expect you to come to my rescue, Tilly, so stop feeling guilty. But can you see why I would keep this for myself? And, technically, I didn’t completely lie.” I led Tilly into Kate’s room, where Mr. Blue swam lazily toward us from the confines of his little glass bowl.

She let out a very unladylike and thus unTilly-like snort. “You’ve been fish sitting?”

I sprinkled some flakes on top of the water. “And cat and hamster sitting too. Princess Sweetheart is very unpredictable. She might rob a bank if no one is looking. Or commit grand larceny.” I raised an eyebrow at her, and she looked away again.

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