Chapter 1: The Empty Desk
The day my stepbrother sold my $1,500 laptop, my stepmother told me to stop complaining—but when my father discovered why the laptop had to disappear, he realized someone in his own family had stolen far more than a computer.
I was seventeen, and I had spent three months working every weekend to buy that laptop.
Now, standing in my bedroom in Columbus, Ohio, staring at the empty space on my desk, I felt like someone had punched the air straight out of my lungs.
My notebooks were scattered across the floor. The charging cable lay beside my desk lamp. Even the little microfiber cloth I used to clean the screen was still there.
But the laptop was gone.
"TYLER!"" I screamed.
Downstairs, someone laughed.
I ran into the living room and found my fifteen-year-old stepbrother stretched across the couch, wearing his sneakers on the cushions. A brand-new iPhone gleamed in his hand.
He didn't even look guilty.
"Where's my computer?"" I demanded.
Tyler tapped something on his screen.
"Sold it.""
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood him.
"You sold my laptop?""
"Yeah.""
"Without asking me?""
He finally looked up.
"Relax, Emily. It's not like I killed somebody.""
My fingers curled into fists.
"That computer cost fifteen hundred dollars! I worked every Saturday and Sunday all summer to buy it!""
Tyler tilted his new phone toward me.
"Well, I only got six hundred for it. Apparently, used laptops aren't worth as much as people think.""
I stared at him, waiting for the smallest sign that he understood what he'd done.
There was none.
My father, Daniel, had married Tyler's mother, Melissa, four years earlier. Since then, I'd learned that peace in our house usually meant letting Tyler have whatever he wanted and pretending I didn't mind.
He got the bigger bedroom because he needed more space.
He got the newer television because he complained louder.
And when he broke something of mine, Melissa always found a way to explain why I was partly responsible.
But this was different.
That laptop held my school projects, college application drafts, digital artwork, and the personal files I'd spent years collecting. I'd bought it with money from a summer job at a grocery store, where I'd spent entire shifts stocking shelves until my back ached.
Every dollar had been mine.
"Give me the money," I said.
Tyler raised an eyebrow.
"What money?""
"The six hundred dollars you got for selling my computer.""
He slipped the phone into his pocket.
"Already spent most of it.""
"On that phone?""
"Obviously.""
I felt tears burning behind my eyes, and I hated that he could see them.
That's when Melissa walked in from the kitchen, carrying a mug of coffee.
"What is all this screaming about?""
"Tyler sold my laptop!""
She barely paused.
"Emily, lower your voice.""
"He took it from my room and sold it!""
Melissa sighed as if I'd interrupted something important.
"It's just a computer. You have a job. Buy another one.""
I stared at her.
"Are you serious?""
"Completely.""
"Then make him pay me back!""
She gave a short, humorless laugh.
"With what money? He's fifteen.""
"He had enough money to buy a new phone!""
Tyler grinned and held the device up again.
"Guess you'll need to work another summer.""
"Tyler, that's enough," Melissa said, but her voice carried no real warning. She turned back to me.
"You need to stop acting like the world revolves around you.""
Something inside me cracked.
I ran upstairs, shut my bedroom door, and sat on the floor beside my empty desk.
I tried calling Tyler's number, even though he was downstairs. Then I searched my email for the laptop's serial number and purchase receipt. My hands shook so badly that I mistyped my password twice.
I wasn't crying only because I'd lost the computer.
I was crying because the people who had watched me work for it were acting as if my effort meant nothing.
Twenty minutes later, the front door opened.
Dad was home.
I heard Melissa's footsteps hurry down the hall before I heard her voice.
"Daniel, thank goodness you're here. Your daughter has been throwing a tantrum all afternoon.""
I wiped my face and stepped out of my room.
Dad stood by the stairs, still wearing his work jacket, his keys in one hand. He looked from Melissa to me.
"Emily, what happened?""
Melissa answered before I could.
"Tyler made a mistake, and she's completely overreacting.""
Dad raised a hand.
"I asked Emily.""
That simple sentence nearly made me cry again.
I told him everything. The missing laptop. The six hundred dollars.
The new phone. Melissa's refusal to make Tyler repay me.
Dad listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he looked toward the living room.
"Tyler. Come here.""
Tyler appeared in the doorway, his phone in his hand.
"What?""
Dad held out his palm.
"Give me the phone.""
Tyler blinked.
"Why?""
"Because I asked you to.""
For the first time that afternoon, Tyler looked uncertain. He glanced at his mother, but Melissa said nothing.
He handed Dad the phone.
Dad examined it for several seconds, turning it over in his hands.
Then he walked toward the large aquarium beside the television.
I followed, confused.
"Dad?""
He stopped beside the tank.
"Tyler, do you understand how much work your sister put into buying her laptop?""
Tyler shrugged.
"I said I was sorry.""
"No, you didn't.""
Dad opened his hand.
The phone slipped from his fingers.
It hit the water with a splash, disappearing beneath the surface among the colorful gravel and plastic plants.
Tyler screamed.
"MY PHONE!""
Melissa rushed forward.
"DANIEL! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?""
Dad turned toward them, his expression frighteningly calm.
"Now he understands what it feels like when someone destroys something he worked for.""
Tyler reached into the aquarium, sending water sloshing across the floor.
Melissa pointed at Dad.
"That phone cost six hundred dollars!""
Dad looked directly at her.
"And Emily's laptop cost fifteen hundred.""
Then he asked Tyler one question.
"Who told you to sell it?""
Tyler stopped reaching into the tank.
May you like
His face changed.
And when he looked at his mother, I realized the missing laptop might be the smallest problem in our house.
