Sorry if that’s weird. I just…
wanted to know.
Natalie.”
My hands shook a little. I wrote back. “Hi Natalie,
Thank you for reaching out.
I know exactly how you feel, probably more than you realize. When I was younger, hiding felt like my only option.
But coding and data sciences gave me something Rebecca couldn’t touch: proof that I belonged.
If you ever want to talk about robotics, college apps, or just need to vent, I’d love to hear what you’re working on. You belong in STEM, never doubt that.
—M.”
We messaged back and forth for a while, and just like that, the bathroom stall didn’t feel quite so lonely anymore.
The next day, I called Mark. His relief was plain. “Thank you.
The counselor said it’s good for her to have another adult who understands.”
The next week, I found myself standing on Mark’s front porch, hands clammy, heart thumping. He’d invited me for coffee and “a conversation,” but when the door swung open, Rebecca was there. “Maya,” she said.
“So nice to finally catch up, after all these years.” She swept her hand in. “Come in. Mark and Natalie are in the kitchen.
I told Mark we do this at home, family business stays in the family. We’re waiting on the counselor. I don’t know why we’re wasting our time.”
I stepped inside.
Natalie was sitting at the island, scrolling her phone, shoulders tense. Mark hovered by the coffeepot, pouring cups with shaking hands. The counselor arrived, a calm woman named Dr.
Ellis. She greeted us all, then said, “Let’s have an honest talk. I know things have been hard.”
Rebecca jumped right in.
“Honestly, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Maya and I went to school together. Things weren’t perfect back then, but we’ve all grown, haven’t we?”
She shot me a look that was half-plea, half-challenge.
I held her gaze. “Rebecca, you didn’t just make my life hard. You made a pattern, and patterns don’t lie.
Your diaries spelled it out. And now you’re doing it to your stepdaughter…”
Mark’s eyes flicked to Rebecca. “She’s right.
I read every word.”
Rebecca bristled, voice icy. “That was 20 years ago. We were kids.”
Natalie set her phone down.
“You still do it, Rebecca. Every time I talk about college, you roll your eyes. You say I’m not cut out for STEM.
I don’t even want to eat at home anymore.”
