Geekerella (Starfield #1)(86)

“But—but it’s my job!” I try to argue, my voice cracking. Quit the Magic Pumpkin? It’s one of the only things I ever fought to have. One of the only things I got by myself—one of the only things I could get by myself. “I earned it! I like that job!”

“I can’t trust you, Danielle,” my stepmother says, “and if I can’t trust you, you don’t deserve what I give you.”

“All I did was go to the convention my dad built!” I blink back the tears burning at the edge of my eyes. “And it’s my con too! I went because he’s my father! He’s mine! I finally I felt like he’d be proud of me—why can’t you?”

Catherine crosses her arms. “I can’t be proud of a daughter who lies to me.”

“Daughter? You never let me do anything! You’ve punished me for—for I don’t know what! For years!” Tears burn my cheeks. “Why do you hate me?”

“Hate you?” She blinks slowly, as if it’s the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “Danielle, I don’t hate you.”

I clench my jaw. “You sure haven’t acted like it. All I ever wanted from you was one thing—just one. I wanted you to be proud of me. Like you’re proud of Cal and Chloe. I just…” I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to stop the tears. I hate crying, but I can’t stop. “I just wanted—wanted you to love me, too.”

I put my face into the crook of my elbow, stifling my sobs. The mascara and glitter and all the good things from the con rub off onto my skin, leaving wet streaks.

When I finally manage to look up, Catherine’s blue eyes are glittering in the foyer light. She doesn’t respond for a long moment.

Finally, she tilts her head, smiling like she’s trying to be gentle. “I’ve tried to love you, sweetie, but you make it so hard.”

My sobs catch in my throat.

“Your obsession isn’t healthy,” she says briskly. “It wasn’t healthy for your father either, living in a world of make-believe. That’s all he ever did. That’s all he ever was. It was only ever you, and him, and Starfield. And I hate how much you are like him.”

My arm drops away and I stare at her, trying to see the lie behind the cream makeup and dark mascara, but her lips are set in a thin line and her eyes are dark, and I don’t think she’s lying.

“There were just so many things I wanted to change about him,” she says. “And you.”

“Change? To what?” I ask, my mouth running before I can stop it. “To the perfect daughter? To some cookie-cutter version of you? To someone you think is acceptable and worthy of your love? Why do I have to prove to you that I’m worthy?”

“Danielle, I only want what’s best for you—”

“No, you want what’s best for you!” I snap, my voice rising. “You never wanted me, admit it! I’m a burden. After Dad died, that’s all I was. And if you hate me for being like him, fine, but I’m the best parts of my father. He raised me to fight for what I believe in and to be a good person—and he raised me to see the best in other people!” My voice is so loud, it’s cracking. “But I let you trample over all the good things he gave me. But not today—today at the con, for the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere. And that’s more than I’ve ever felt here! In my own parents’ house! The one you’re selling!”

Her eyes narrow. “Starfield isn’t real, Danielle. The sooner you learn that, the better off you’ll be.”

Of course it’s not real. I know it’s not real. It’s just as fake as the Styrofoam props they use and the cardboard sets and the tinny laser sounds and the ice cream machines they try to disguise as “data cores”—I know it’s all fake. But those characters—Carmindor, Princess Amara, Euci, and even the Nox King—they were my friends when everyone in the real world passed around rumors behind my back, called me weird, shoved me into lockers, and baited me into thinking I was beautiful only to push me away just before we kissed. They never abandoned me. They were loyal, honorable, caring, and smart.

But I realize that trying to explain Starfield to Catherine is like trying to explain the sky to an anglerfish. Because she’s none of those things, and never will be.

“Now you will go upstairs and take off that ridiculous outfit,” she commands. I turn to leave, defeated, but Catherine isn’t finished.

“And,” she says, “you will give me your phone.”

I freeze.

“Danielle!”

I reach for the phone in my jacket pocket. For a brief, crazy moment, I imagine that dream I had of me and Franco. Setting off west, never looking back. I knew it was just a dream, because this house can’t move and without it I’m not sure who I would be. This was the last place I belonged, and I don’t even belong here anymore, and soon it won’t even be my home. I won’t belong anywhere.

But if I have nowhere to go, what’s the use in fighting?

Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I hand her my phone. Her manicured fingers curl around it. “Good. Now go to your room.”

Tears come back before I can stop them and I take the stairs two at a time. Catherine doesn’t come after me. I’m not worth the energy, and there’s really nothing left for her to take. In my room, I press my forehead against the door and squeeze my eyes tight.