two cards a year,” I said. “Marcus showed up every single Tuesday for two years straight without ever once asking for credit.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not. None of this has been especially fair to anyone. I’m just done pretending fair means whoever arrives with the nicer car.”
Something shifted across my father’s face, anger trying to cover something that looked, for just a second, like real hurt.
“I gave you a car,” he said. “Do you understand what that cost?”
“I know exactly what things cost,” I said. “That’s kind of the whole point of everything I just handed him.”
For a second neither of us said anything, the whole driveway holding its breath along with the rest of us.
Mom stepped off the porch and put her hand on my shoulder, the same spot my father had touched a few minutes earlier.
“I think it’s
