Chapter 1: The Empty Backpack
“Leave those. They’re for Jordan and Ava.””
Tasha didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to.
Her words landed harder than a slap as she pushed eight-year-old Isaiah's hand away from the colorful school supplies spread across the coffee table.
Isaiah froze.
His fingers had been resting on a brand-new box of crayons. Beside it sat notebooks, pencil cases, glittery folders, and two shiny pink backpacks with matching keychains.
One backpack had Jordan's name written in silver letters.
The other had Ava's.
There was nothing with Isaiah's name on it.
He looked down at his own backpack, which rested against the sofa. Its camouflage fabric had faded almost completely. One shoulder strap was held together with thick black thread, and the zipper had to be pulled sideways before it would close.
He swallowed.
“But Dad sent money for mine,” he whispered.
Tasha continued arranging the girls' supplies.
She wore a perfectly tailored royal-blue suit, gold earrings, and freshly manicured nails. Everything about her looked expensive.
Everything except the way she treated Isaiah.
“Your father sent money for school supplies,” she corrected.
“And I bought school supplies.””
“But those are for Jordan and Ava.””
“Exactly.””
Jordan, Tasha's ten-year-old daughter, giggled from the sofa.
“Mommy got us matching ones!””
Ava, who was seven, hugged her new pink backpack.
“Mine has a little unicorn on it!””
Tasha smiled warmly at her daughters.
“Because my girls deserve to start the school year looking beautiful.””
Isaiah lowered his eyes.
He hadn't asked for anything expensive. He didn't want a tablet or designer sneakers. He had only asked for a backpack that didn't smell like the old basement and notebooks that didn't have someone else's handwriting inside them.
His father had promised.
Three weeks earlier, Isaiah had sat beside his father, Marcus, at the kitchen table while Marcus counted five crisp hundred-dollar bills into an envelope.
“That's for all three of you,” Marcus had explained over the phone to Tasha.
“Make sure the kids get what they need. Especially Isaiah. His old backpack is falling apart.””
Tasha had laughed.
“Don't worry, Marcus. I'll take care of everything.””
Isaiah remembered that conversation.
He remembered how his father had winked at him afterward.
“New backpack this year, buddy. You can pick the color.””
Isaiah had spent the following days imagining a dark-blue backpack with plenty of pockets.
Now, standing in front of the coffee table, he couldn't even touch the pink notebooks.
Tasha picked up a pack of markers and placed it inside Ava's bag.
“Jordan, check whether your pencil case fits.””
“It does!”” Jordan answered.
“Perfect.””
Isaiah slowly reached for one of the loose notebooks.
Tasha caught his wrist.
“I said leave those.””
“I'm just looking.””
“And I'm telling you they're not yours.””
He pulled his hand back.
A tiny tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly with the sleeve of his yellow polo shirt.
He didn't want the girls to see him cry.
Unfortunately, someone else had already noticed.
From the hallway, an older man stood watching.
His name was Robert.
He was Isaiah's grandfather, Marcus's father. Bald-headed, with a neatly trimmed gray beard and a gray plaid shirt tucked into dark trousers, Robert had come over that morning to help his grandson prepare for the new school year.
He had been carrying a small package for Isaiah.
A set of new soccer cleats.
But the moment he saw the little boy standing beside the worn camouflage backpack, his smile disappeared.
Robert stepped into the living room.
“What's going on here?””
Tasha turned quickly.
“Oh, Robert. You're early.””
“I can see that.”” His eyes moved from the girls' pink backpacks to Isaiah's old one.
“Why is that boy standing there like he's been caught stealing something?””
Tasha gave a small laugh.
“It's nothing. We're just organizing the school supplies.””
Robert approached the coffee table.
He noticed the expensive backpacks first. Then the notebooks, the pencil cases, and the neatly arranged stationery.
He picked up a receipt lying underneath a pink shopping bag.
His eyes moved across the printed items.
Two designer backpacks.
Two matching lunch bags.
Two sets of premium stationery.
Two pairs of expensive school shoes.
His eyebrows tightened.
He checked the total.
Then he checked the payment amount.
Five hundred dollars.
Robert looked at Tasha.
“What did you buy for him? All $500 went on these?””
The room went quiet.
Tasha folded her arms.
“Robert, please don't start.””
“I'm asking you a simple question.””
“And I gave you a simple answer. I bought school supplies.””
“For whom?””
“For the children.””
Robert glanced toward Isaiah.
“Is he not one of the children?””
Tasha exhaled impatiently.
“He can use his old things.””
Isaiah stared at the carpet.
Robert's grip tightened around the receipt.
“His old things?””
“It's still perfectly usable,” Tasha replied.
“Children don't need new everything every year. He has a backpack. Why waste money buying another one?””
Robert lifted the damaged bag by its strap.
The loose stitching stretched.
A broken zipper slid open, revealing a torn notebook and two pencils.
“Perfectly usable?”” he repeated.
Tasha rolled her eyes.
“Honestly, you're making a big deal out of nothing.””
Robert placed the backpack back on the floor.
Then he looked at Isaiah.
“Come here, son.””
Isaiah approached slowly.
“Did your father tell you he was sending money for your school things?””
Isaiah nodded.
“He said I could pick a new backpack.””
Robert crouched to his eye level.
“And did you get one?””
The boy shook his head.
His lower lip trembled.
Robert gently brushed a tear from his grandson's cheek.
“It's all right. You don't have to hide anything from me.””
Tasha interrupted.
“Robert, Marcus trusted me to handle the money. I don't appreciate you questioning my decisions in front of the children.””
Robert stood.
“Then perhaps you should have made decisions worth trusting.””
Tasha's face hardened.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Robert reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
“I'm calling my son.””
Tasha's expression changed.
“There's no need for that.””
“Oh, I think there is.””
He tapped Marcus's number and switched on speakerphone.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then Marcus answered.
“Hey, Dad. Everything okay?””
Robert looked at Isaiah.
“Your son is right here.””
Marcus chuckled.
“Great. Is Isaiah ready for school?””
Robert glanced at the empty space beside the pink backpacks.
Then he looked directly at Tasha.
“His backpack's empty.””
He placed the phone on the coffee table.
“Tasha, explain where my son's money went.””
Tasha froze.
Her eyes widened.
On the phone, Marcus stopped breathing for a moment.
Then his voice came through, much quieter than before.
“Tasha?””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
And Robert wasn't finished.
“Because I think your husband deserves to know exactly what happened to the five hundred dollars he sent for all three children.””
May you like
The phone remained on speaker.
And every person in the room was listening.
