I stood up.
“It’s four in the morning, Ellie.”
“I know.”
“You said midnight.”
“My phone died.”
She had always been a terrible liar.
“Where were you?”
“At prom.”
“Until four in the morning?”
She looked away.
“I’m tired. Can we please talk tomorrow?”
“No.”
The word came out sharper than I intended, and she flinched.
When she stepped back, her purse slipped from her shoulder and hit the hardwood floor. The clasp popped open.
Something white slid out.
An envelope.
Ellie lunged for it immediately.
“Leave it!”
But I had already reached down.
She grabbed one end.
I grabbed the other.
The envelope tore.
Cash spilled across the floor.
Fifties.
Hundreds.
Far too much money for a seventeen-year-old girl to be carrying after prom.
A folded note fell with it.
My hands shook as I picked it up.
The handwriting was neat and cold.
Excellent performance. You were great.
For a moment, I could not breathe.
Every horrible possibility flashed through my mind at once.
I looked at my daughter standing there in a dirty prom dress, tears shining in her eyes, and my stomach dropped.
“Ellie,” I said carefully, “what is this?”
“It’s nothing.”
“This is not nothing.”
She started gathering the money, shoving it back into her purse with shaking hands.
“Please, Mom. Just leave it alone.”
“Leave it alone? You came home at four in the morning with cash and a note that says ‘excellent performance.’ What performance? Who gave this to you?”
Her lower lip trembled.
“I can’t tell you.”
Fear turned into anger because I did not know where else to put it.
“Did someone hurt you?”
She shook her head quickly.
“No.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
“I can’t.”
She ran upstairs before I could stop her.
I did not sleep after that.
I sat at the kitchen table until sunrise, staring at that note, waiting for some innocent explanation to appear.
It never did.
By morning, I knocked on Ellie’s door.
No answer.
