carrying folded in half for three long weeks, waiting for exactly this moment.
Marcus walked over slowly, glancing between me and my father, clearly unsure what was happening.
My father’s smile faltered slightly.
“What’s this?” Marcus asked, looking at the envelope.
“Open it,” I said. “Please.”
Everyone else went quiet, even my father, whatever irritation had been building in his face pausing long enough to watch too.
He slid a thumb under the flap and pulled out the papers inside. I watched his face while he read the top line.
His hands went still.
PETITION FOR ADULT ADOPTION, it said. Below that, in the space for the petitioner’s name, I’d already filled in mine.
“I talked to a lawyer three weeks ago,” I said. “Ms. Alvarado, downtown. She said once I turn eighteen in August, I can legally request this myself, no permission needed from anyone but you.”
My hands
