Chapter 7: The Promise My Mother Made
“Mom promised this would stay between us.””
I read the words again.
Then I looked at my mother.
Rochelle stood beside the kitchen counter, her fingers wrapped tightly around the edge. She wasn't looking at me anymore. She was looking at the photograph on my phone.
“What's that supposed to mean?”” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Nothing. Cameron is upset, and he's trying to make you angry.””
“Then why did he write that?””
“Because he knows how to get under your skin.””
Dad took my phone and examined the photograph.
“Rochelle, what promise did you make?””
She picked up her purse.
“I'm not doing this right now.””
Dad stepped away from the table.
“Neither am I. But we're going to finish this conversation.””
“I have things to do.””
“You have a daughter whose identity was used on a fraudulent scholarship application. You have a son who destroyed her artwork. And you have money missing from an account that was supposed to support her education.””
Mom's face tightened.
“Don't call your son a criminal.””
“Then stop defending what he's done.””
She grabbed her keys.
I stepped forward.
“Mom, did you promise Cameron I wouldn't find out?””
She looked at me.
For a moment, I thought she might finally tell the truth.
Instead, she said, “I promised him I'd help him get a fresh start.””
I swallowed.
“With my artwork?””
“With the scholarship.””
“With Grandma's money?””
Her eyes hardened.
“Your grandmother had enough money to help both of you. You don't need to make everything yours.””
I felt my throat close.
“Then why did she leave it for me?””
Rochelle didn't answer.
Dad picked up the folder of bank statements.
“Sit down, Rochelle.””
She stared at him.
Then she put her keys back on the counter.
Twenty minutes later, the truth came out in pieces.
Cameron had approached Mom about the Detroit Youth Arts Scholarship almost a month earlier.
He had seen the announcement online and believed the award could help him pay for a professional sports photography course he wanted to take.
He had never mentioned the course to Dad.
He had never completed an independent portfolio.
And when he discovered that I had been preparing an application, he decided to use my work.
Mom knew he was struggling.
She also knew he had already lost one opportunity because he missed an application deadline.
So she made him a promise.
She would help him get into the scholarship competition.
No matter what.
“Why?”” I asked.
Mom looked at me.
“Because I didn't want him to feel like a failure.””
I stared at her.
“And you were okay with me feeling like one?””
“That's not what I said.””
“You watched him rip Grandma's portrait.””
“He needed the wall.””
“He needed the wall more than I needed my artwork?””
Rochelle rubbed her forehead.
“I thought you could draw another one.””
I shook my head.
“That's not the point.””
Dad opened the bank statement.
“And the money?””
Mom sighed.
“I used part of Evelyn's account because Cameron needed the preparation program. I thought if he won, he'd be able to move forward.””
“Did you tell him that the money belonged to Imani?””
“I told him it was family money.””
Dad shook his head.
“You knew exactly what Evelyn intended.””
Mom looked away.
Then she said something I would remember for a long time.
“Cameron has always needed more help than Imani.””
I stared at her.
“Because you always give him more.””
She looked offended.
“You've always been independent. You never needed me the way he did.””
I laughed once.
It wasn't a happy sound.
“I was independent because every time I needed something, you told me to figure it out.””
Mom's eyes narrowed.
“That's not fair.””
“Remember when Grandma gave me her sketchbook? You told me to keep it in my room because Cameron needed the dining table for his basketball equipment.””
She didn't respond.
“Remember when I won the school art competition? You came late because Cameron had a practice game.””
“I had responsibilities.””
“And when I asked you to come to my first exhibition, you said I should understand that Cameron had a difficult week.””
Mom looked down.
I continued.
“You keep telling me I'm strong. But sometimes I think you just like that I don't make you feel guilty.””
Dad looked at me.
His expression was gentle, but his eyes were wet.
Rochelle sat down.
For the first time, she seemed to have run out of explanations.
Then her phone rang.
Cameron.
She answered immediately.
“Baby?””
I could hear his voice through the speaker.
“Did Dad call the school?””
“No. We're still talking.””
“Tell him to stop.””
“Cameron, listen—”
“No, Mom. You promised.””
Rochelle closed her eyes.
Dad held out his hand.
“Put him on speaker.””
She hesitated.
Then she did.
Dad spoke calmly.
“Cameron, we need to discuss the scholarship.””
“There's nothing to discuss.””
“You submitted work that wasn't yours.””
“I used Imani's reference material.””
“You submitted her photograph and copied her artist statement.””
“Because she wasn't using it!””
I closed my eyes.
Even now, he couldn't understand.
Dad asked, “Did Imani sign the declaration?””
Silence.
Then Cameron answered.
“Mom said she would handle it.””
Rochelle looked up sharply.
“Cameron!””
Dad's face changed.
“What do you mean she would handle it?””
Cameron sighed.
“Mom said she'd get Imani to sign later.””
I stared at my mother.
She looked horrified.
Dad slowly lowered the phone.
“Rochelle, did you tell him that?””
“I was trying to prevent an argument!””
“By promising to get your daughter's signature on a document she hadn't agreed to?””
“I didn't think he'd submit it!””
Cameron interrupted.
“Can we not do this? The committee already likes my portfolio. I just need you to keep everyone quiet until the final announcement.””
Dad's voice was ice-cold.
“Your final announcement is not going to happen using your sister's identity.””
Cameron hung up.
Nobody moved.
Then Dad reached for his jacket.
“We're going to the school tomorrow.””
Mom stood.
“Russell, please. If you report this, Cameron could lose everything.””
Dad looked at her.
“Imani already lost something. You just didn't think it counted.””
He took the folder and walked toward the hallway.
I followed him.
But before I left the kitchen, I heard my mother whisper something.
“He told me he had already sent another document.””
I stopped.
Dad turned around.
“What document?””
Mom looked at us.
Her lips trembled.
“A letter.””
“What letter?””
She looked directly at me.
“A letter saying you wanted to withdraw from the scholarship competition.””
My heart stopped.
Dad's phone rang.
He checked the screen.
It was Ms. Whitmore.
He answered.
“Hello?””
A moment passed.
Then his expression changed completely.
“What do you mean the committee received a withdrawal request?””
I grabbed the counter.
May you like
Because suddenly, my brother's plan wasn't just about taking my artwork.
He was trying to erase me from the competition altogether.
