“They’re not my friends,” Cassie said, her voice steady.
“They’re my family.”
Brittany was taken aback.
She was used to Cassie shrinking.
Before she could come up with another insult, Mrs. Ramona walked by.
“Cassie, can I see you in my office?”
In the safety of the small room, Mrs. Ramona’s professional demeanor softened.
“How are you, really?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” Cassie said, and for the first time, it was true.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my connection to your father sooner,” Mrs. Ramona said.
“Daniel was a friend of mine in high school. When I found you, I wanted to tell you everything, but legally, my hands were tied until you were an adult.”
She opened a drawer and pulled out a thick photo album.
“Your grandmother wanted you to have this.”
Cassie opened it.
Page after page of her father’s life.
Him as a baby.
Him playing football.
Him in his uniform, holding a tiny, bundled-up Cassie.
He was smiling in every picture.
The weeks that followed were a blur of discovery.
Cassie learned her father had loved to draw.
That he had a terrible singing voice but loved to do it anyway.
That he had left a college fund for her.
A real one.
Enough for her to go anywhere she wanted.
