She Raised Us on Our Dead Parents' Settlement, So We Crashed Her Gala novel · Chapter 38 of 40

Chapter 38: What She Raised

"I raised you," Bernadette said again, into the live microphone.

The ballroom heard it in every speaker at once.

"You did," I said.

I walked to the bottom of the stage steps, where the girl with the missing tooth stood beside the podium.

"You raised me on a cot in a room with two blankets for three girls," I said. "You raised me to say thank you for beans. You raised me to be quiet when a judge patted my head."

"I gave you a roof."

"You billed my father's life for it."

"You were nothing!" Bernadette said.

The word cracked across the room.

She heard it herself, a half second late, and her hand went to the medal.

But the microphone was warm, and the mask had slipped, and it did not slip back.

"Not one of you was anything," she said, and her voice was no longer pleasant or low. "Twelve orphans nobody wanted. I took you in. I fed you. I gave this town a reason to feel good about itself for twenty years, and what did I get? A waitress with a microphone."

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