Chapter 1 - The Girl Who Was Never Allowed to Be Sixteen
Six months earlier, Savannah’s alarm rang at 4:45 every morning.
She did not wake early to study, exercise or prepare for an after-school club.
She woke because baby June usually needed a bottle before five, and if June’s crying awakened the twins, Savannah would have three children demanding breakfast before sunrise.
Marlene slept in the only bedroom with a functioning lock.
Savannah slept on the couch.
Mateo had a small mattress in the hallway, while three-year-old twins Lily and Owen shared a bed in the second bedroom. June’s crib stood beside the couch because Marlene complained that the baby’s crying made her tired.
At sixteen, Savannah could prepare formula in the dark. She could recognize a fever by touching a forehead. She knew which cartoons would calm Owen, which song helped Lily sleep and how to stretch one box of cereal across four mornings.
She also knew how to forge Marlene’s signature on school absence notes.
The first time she did it, she cried afterward.
By the twentieth time, she barely thought about it.
Marlene was seven months pregnant with another child and often reminded Savannah that pregnancy made her too exhausted to handle the house.
“You are the oldest,” Marlene would say. “Families help each other.”
Savannah believed that for years.
She believed helping meant missing a math test because Mateo was sick.
She believed helping meant calling a utility company and begging them not to disconnect the electricity.
She believed helping meant hiding overdue notices before the younger children saw them.
Marlene was skilled at making every demand sound temporary.
“Just until I find a better job.”
“Just until the baby sleeps through the night.”
“Just until your brother starts school.”
But one temporary crisis became another, and Savannah’s childhood disappeared between them.
At school, students complained about homework, strict teachers and weekend curfews.
Savannah listened silently.
She had never been given a curfew because she was rarely allowed to leave.
Her closest friend, Jasmine, stopped inviting her anywhere after Savannah canceled seven times in one semester.
“Your mother cannot keep making you responsible for everything,” Jasmine said one afternoon.
Savannah immediately defended Marlene.
“She doesn’t have anyone else.”
“She has you.”
“That is what family is.”
“No,” Jasmine replied. “That is what she taught you family is.”
Savannah refused to speak to Jasmine for three days.
The truth in her friend’s words frightened her more than any insult could have.
Aunt Helena visited twice a month.
She was Marlene’s older sister and the only adult who seemed to notice things Marlene worked hard to hide.
During Helena’s visits, Marlene cleaned the living room, filled the refrigerator with groceries bought using borrowed money and dressed the children in their best clothes.
She would laugh and complain that Savannah was becoming rebellious.
“Teenagers,” she would say. “They think making the bed is oppression.”
Savannah always smiled when expected.
She knew what would happen after Helena left if she said anything different.
Marlene would not strike her.
She did not need to.
She would stand in the kitchen and describe everything that could happen if social services separated the family.
Mateo might be sent somewhere frightening.
The twins might be separated.
June might forget Savannah.
“You would destroy their lives,” Marlene would say. “Could you live with that?”
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Savannah never knew the answer.
So she stayed.
