The Summer I Disappeared Chapter 09

The Summer I Disappeared Chapter 09

September in California. The sky was so blue it hurt. The wind carried a bite that kept you sharp.

With a 1590 SAT and National Merit Scholar status, I didn’t just get the highest-tier freshman scholarship.

They waived me into a national-level research lab as a freshman.

The day my scholarship came through, I ordered myself a Bowl of pho. Double beef.

Steam rose from the broth. Blurred my vision.

No worrying about Tally being sensitive to Asian spices. No watching anyone’s expression.

I ate until the bowl was empty. Drank the broth down to the last drop.

Finished. I touched the pale scar still healing on my forehead. Walked onto campus.

That afternoon, my advisor pulled me into the hallway. His face was serious.

“Winter McCall. What exactly is going on with your family?”

Mr. Chamberlain, my faculty advisor, sighed and handed me his phone.

The screen was filled with missed calls. All from the same area code.

“Your parents. And some guy claiming to be your childhood sweetheart. They’ve been calling admissions and

the dean’s office nonstop.”

Mr. Chamberlain looked at me. Probing. Concerned.

“Your mother was crying so hard on the phone she nearly passed out. Said you ran away from home over

some minor argument.”

“They’re claiming you might have serious mental health issues. Begging the school to make you call them.”

I looked at those missed calls. Not a single ripple in my chest.

Mental health issues?

So they did know. All those years of neglect leave scars.

“Mr. Chamberlain. I’m perfectly sane. And I didn’t run away.

I met his eyes. Steady.

“I’m an adult who chose her own university. I simply don’t want to be emotionally manipulated by my family of origin anymore.”

gave him the summary. Brief. Objective. Like I was describing someone else’s life. No embellishment. No

tears.

Mr. Chamberlain looked at the scar on my forehead. Still not fully faded. The doubt in his eyes shifted into

something deeper.

“Alright. I understand.” He squeezed my shoulder.

“Focus on your work. The school protects student privacy. If they call again, Student Affairs will give a standard response.”

“Thank you. But,” I paused.

“To stop them from harassing the school, let me call them back. From your office phone. I’ll make things.

clear.”

Running solved nothing. Drawing a line would.