Roxie walked up the cracked path to the front door with her stomach still twisted from the restaurant.

She could still hear Zac’s voice.

Sugar daddy.

People had heard him. Mr. Robinson had heard him. Mrs. Robinson had walked outside and looked at him like he was exactly the kind of boy Roxie should stay away from.

God. It was humiliating and worst, in front of the Robinsons.

The worst part was that Roxie had wanted him before that.

She had wanted him at the party. She had wanted him in the restaurant parking lot before he opened his mouth and ruined everything.

She was right about him.

That hurt the most.

Her cheer bag bumped against her hip as she reached the porch. The porch light buzzed above her head. The house smelled wrong before she even opened the door.

The smell was so thick it hit her before she even opened the door. Before she had the chance to do that, the door opened.

A man she did not know stepped out of the hallway.

She froze.

He was buttoning his shirt with clumsy fingers. His face was flushed, his hair messy, and his eyes slid over Roxie for half a second before he looked away.

He muttered something and squeezed past her.

The door slammed behind him.

Roxie stood there, dazed.

For one second, she thought about the Robinsons.

Jason would never go home to this. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson would never let any strange man in their house. He’d never get past those security guards in the first place.

He would never have to witness the kind of scene Roxie had been seeing since she was young.

Then she looked at her own living room.

Claire was on the couch with a cigarette between her fingers. Her hair was tangled around her face. Her lipstick was smeared, and one strap of her top had slipped down her shoulder.

Steve sat beside her, shirt half-open, legs spread wide, eyes glassy.

He smiled at Roxie like the whole house was a joke only he understood.

Roxie’s bag dropped to the floor.

"What was that?"

Claire exhaled smoke and did not look at her. "Go to your room."

"Who was he?"

"Roxxane."

"Who was he?"

Steve chuckled. "Girl, lower your voice."

Roxie’s eyes snapped to him. "Don’t talk to me."

Steve’s smile thinned.

Claire finally looked up. "Don’t start."

Roxie laughed once, sharp and ugly. "Don’t start? A strange man just walked out of our hallway buttoning his shirt."

Claire’s eyes hardened. "And?"

Roxie stared at her. "And?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what the hell you’re doing."

Claire stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray. "I’m doing what I have to do."

"No."

"No?" Claire stood, unsteady but angry. "You think money just shows up?"

Roxie’s throat tightened. "You have that job."

"That job isn’t enough." Claire pointed at her. "You wanted that dress."

Roxie went still. "Don’t."

"You wanted money, Roxxane. Money does not fall out of the sky."

Roxie’s face burned. "I never asked you to do this. You said you’re trying."

Claire laughed. "You asked for a dress."

"I asked you to keep your promise."

The room went quiet.

Steve shifted on the couch, irritated.

Claire’s mouth tightened. "You think you’re better than me."

"No. I think you spent the money on drugs."

Claire’s hand twitched at her side. "Watch your mouth."

"I think you spent it with him." Roxie pointed at Steve. "And then you brought some man here and now you’re pretending it’s because of me."

Steve sat forward. "She’s doing what you want."

Roxie turned on him. "You fucking slob just shut your mouth."

His face changed.

Claire stepped between them. "Don’t talk to him like that."

"Why? He talks to me however he wants."

"He lives here."

"He doesn’t. This is grandma’s house."

Claire scoffed. "It is. So I’m allowed to let anyone stay here. You said you were going to try to get along with him."

She screamed in frustration. "That was when you told me you were changing. God! I am so dumb to even believe your words."

Steve stood up. "She is trying."

Claire’s face twisted with anger. "You always act like you’re better than me."

Roxie’s chest hurt so badly she could barely breathe through it. "I do act like it. I clean your mess. I hide your drugs. I lie at school. I pretend we’re normal so nobody looks too close."

Claire’s eyes flashed. "Nobody asked you to do all that."

Roxie froze.

The words hit harder than they should have because they were true in the worst way.

She laughed, but it came out broken. "Right. Sorry. My mistake."

Claire rubbed her forehead like Roxie was the headache. "You come in here with that attitude after I tried to get you the money you wanted."

"You’re fucking high. That money wasn’t for me."

"I did this to give you the dress you wanted."

"Shut up." She screamed. "Do not use me as your reason to be the worst mother in the world."

Claire stepped closer. "You don’t get to judge me when you’re the one walking around that fancy school pretending you’re not from here."

Roxie’s eyes burned. "I pretend because of you."

Claire flinched.

Roxie wanted it to hurt.

"I pretend because if people knew what this house was, they’d look at me exactly the way Zac looked at me tonight." Her voice cracked, and that made her angrier. "Like I was something cheap."

Steve let out a low laugh. "Maybe that boy sees clear."

Roxie’s head snapped toward him.

Claire said nothing.

That silence did more damage than Steve’s words.

Roxie looked at her mother. "Say something."

Claire’s jaw worked.

Her throat closed. "You never pick me."

Claire’s face twisted. "Don’t be dramatic."

Roxie stared at her for a second, then bent down and grabbed her bag.

"I’m done."

"Where are you going?" Claire snapped.

"My room."

"Oh, so now you’re done talking?"

"Yes."

"Typical."

Roxie turned back. "No. Typical is you making me the excuse for every disgusting thing you do, then acting like I’m ungrateful because I don’t clap for it."

Claire’s face went red. "Go to your room before I say something I regret."

Roxie smiled, and it hurt. "Too late."

She walked down the hallway before Claire could answer.

Steve said something under his breath. Claire snapped back at him. Their voices blurred behind her as Roxie reached her room, slammed the door, and twisted the lock with shaking fingers.

She shoved her desk chair under the knob anyway.

Then she stood in the dark, breathing hard.

Her body shook after the anger left.

That was the part she hated. Rage always made her feel strong for a few minutes, then it drained out and left her with everything underneath.

The restaurant.

Zac.

Claire.

Steve.

The stranger.

The dress.

The lie about New York.

Roxie dropped onto her bed and pressed both hands over her face.

She did not want to cry again.

She was so tired of crying.

But the tears came anyway, hot and quiet, slipping between her fingers while the house kept moving around her. Claire’s voice rose once in the living room. Steve laughed. Something glass clinked against the table.

Roxie curled onto her side in her borrowed dress from Mrs. Robinson because she had not even changed out of it yet.

That made her cry harder.

Mrs. Robinson had said the dress looked pretty on her.

Mrs. Robinson had fixed the cardigan on her shoulders before they left the house.

Mrs. Robinson had asked what she wanted to order like Roxie belonged at that table. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

And then Roxie came home to this.

She wiped her face against the pillow and whispered into the dark, "Stop hoping."

The words did nothing.

She said them again anyway.

"Stop hoping."

Eventually, the living room got quieter.

The house settled into an ugly silence.

Roxie must have fallen asleep because the next sound dragged her out of the dark with her heart already racing.

A soft scrape.

Then the doorknob turned.

Slowly.

Roxie opened her eyes.

The room was black except for the thin line of light under the door.

The knob moved again.

The chair legs scraped lightly against the floor as pressure pushed against the door from the other side.

Roxie sat up.

Her pulse slammed in her throat.

Another turn.

Another push.

The chair held.

A low voice came through the wood.

"Roxie."

Steve.

She did not answer.

The knob rattled again, harder this time.

"Open the door."

Roxie’s hand slid under her pillow and closed around her phone.

"Roxie, I know you’re awake."

Her skin went cold.

She stared at the door.

The shadow under it shifted, like he had leaned closer.

"Just wanna talk."

His voice dragged, thick and wrong.

She held the phone so tightly her fingers hurt.

"Open up."

The chair scraped another inch.

Roxie stopped breathing.