Revenge Is a Mother's Gift

The admissions office calls and says my daughter's admission fee has been paid, asking when I'll come to handle enrollment.

I'm completely stunned.

My daughter, Natalie Steward, is top of her class. She's already guaranteed a spot in the city's best high school, Dream High School, with no admission fee required.

Upon questioning my husband, Arnold Lewiston, he claims the admissions office must've made a mistake.

He says, "I just wanted to surprise you, so I pulled some strings with the principal to get her into the accelerated track. You should talk to the teachers and make sure we get the best homeroom teacher so I can look good."

As soon as I end the call, I slam the accelerator and head straight to the admissions office. On my way there, I call Lynn Warrens, my best friend who works in the State Department of Education.

"Help me check under whose name Arnold paid the admission fee for his illegitimate child. I'm going to withdraw them from the school!" I say.

Instead of feeling relieved, my suspicion grew heavier after ending the call with Arnold.

Surprise?

Natalie had been top of her class her entire life, racking up competition awards like they were nothing.

The principal of the best high school in the city, Dream High School, had personally called me to guarantee her enrollment.

With grades like Natalie's, did she really need Arnold to pull strings for her to get into the accelerated track? Not to mention, him even asking me to make him look good was just asking for too much.

I recalled how Arnold had questioned me a few days back. He'd said, "Why do you waste time reading all those random psychology reports?"

He didn't know I had been building the psychological evaluation model for the city's "Gifted Scholars Program."

The more I thought about it, the less it added up.

I spun the wheel and stepped on the gas, driving straight to the admissions office of Dream High School.

…

Half an hour later, I was standing in the crowded admissions office.

As I pushed past the crowd, I found Joanna Wimbleton, the teacher in charge of the enrollment process. "Hello, I'm Natalie Steward's mother, Whitney Steward."

Joanna looked up and adjusted her glasses, looking confused. "Natalie Steward's mother? Didn't you just leave?"

My heart sank.

She continued, "Her mother, Ms. Marshall, was just here. She confirmed the uniform size before leaving earlier."

Ms. Marshall?

I tightened the grip on the strap of my crossbody bag. "I'm Natalie's mother, Ms. Wimbleton. I'm a Steward, not Marshall."

Joanna's expression went from confusion to irritation. "It's a busy day, ma'am. Please don't cause any trouble.

"On Natalie's enrollment form, the name of her mother is clearly listed in the column—Elaine Marshall. She just finished the paperwork."

The name Elaine Marshall hit me cold. Wasn't that the name of Arnold's distant cousin, who was always hanging around our house looking for handouts?

At that moment, a familiar figure showed up at the entrance of the admissions office.

The woman was wearing the designer dress I'd bought weeks ago as Natalie's enrollment gift. She was also carrying the latest handbag, which had been from me too.

Elaine's smug smile immediately froze upon seeing me. Her gaze anxiously darted around. "Whit? What brings you here?" She strode over in a hurry, grabbed my arm, and tried to drag me out. "This isn't the place to talk, Whit. Let's head outside, and I'll explain things to you."

That syrupy and intimate nickname made my stomach flip.

I pushed her hand away and said, "Who are you calling 'Whit' here? You'd better make things clear, Elaine. Why are you here, and why are you wearing my daughter's dress? Why did the admissions staff say that you're my daughter's mother?"

Although my voice was soft, every word of mine landed hard.

Elaine's face paled. Her eyes started reddening, looking as if she was being wronged.

She replied, "You've misunderstood, Whitney. Arnold only asked me to help out since it's the enrollment season, and I'm raising my child on my own.

"As for the dress, he said Natalie couldn't fit in it anymore, so he gave it to Linda." Elaine even pitifully tugged at the dress. "If you're not happy, I'll take it off immediately and give it back to you, Whitney."

Around us, the other parents started pointing fingers at me.

"Who's that? She dresses so well but is so unreasonable."

"That's right. Must she make a scene when that lady's just helping out? That's not very classy of her."

"She's probably just jealous that she's younger and prettier."