Something inside my chest seemed to split open.
“There are other options,” Dr. Collins said, his voice sharper now. “State support, Medicaid, charity care—”
“We are not taking charity,” my mother suddenly said, her voice full of offended pride. “What would people think?”
Dr. Collins stared at them. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
My father answered without shame.
“She’s thirteen. She can become a ward of the state. Then Medicaid covers everything, and it doesn’t touch our finances.”
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood him. I waited for him to say he was panicking. I waited for him to turn around, apologize, and hold me.
He didn’t.
Dr. Collins whispered, “You cannot be serious.”
“We have another child,” my mother said, as if she were the one being wronged. “Ashley has a future. She’s brilliant. We can’t let this ruin everything we built.”
“Mom,” I said, my voice tiny. “I’m scared.”
