“Oh, my baby,” she whispered, loud enough for me to hear from the sidewalk. “You deserve the world.”
My father beamed, his chest puffed out with pride. He clapped Amber on the back, his expensive watch catching the light.
“The safest car on the road for our girl,” he announced to no one in particular.
Amber squealed, jumping up and down. She was wearing a designer sundress, not a graduation gown. Her senior year of high school had just ended. Mine, the one I’d worked three jobs to get through, was culminating in a ceremony a forty-five-minute bus ride away.
No one even asked how I was getting there. No one looked my way.
I was a ghost in a black gown, watching a perfect family portrait being painted without me in it.
The city bus hissed to a stop in front of me. The doors folded open with a tired sigh. I climbed the steps, paid my fare with a crumpled dollar bill, and found a seat by a smudged window. As the bus pulled away from the curb, I looked back.
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