“Good sound?”
“The best.”
We returned to my parents’ house that afternoon with two other friends.
I had texted ahead with the exact time.
Dad was waiting in the living room.
Mom stood behind him.
Marcus stayed near the stairs.
Dad had printed several pages and placed them on the coffee table.
He pointed at them.
“I looked up hearing aids.”
I glanced down.
Cheap sound amplifiers from an online marketplace.
Some cost less than two hundred dollars.
He looked triumphant.
“You said six thousand.
That’s ridiculous.”
I pulled Dr.
Chen’s estimate from the blue folder and set it beside his printouts.
“Those aren’t equivalent.”
“They make things louder.”
“So does a megaphone.”
Priya covered a smile.
Dad did not.
Mom tried another approach.
“We can help you replace them.”
“Help?” I repeated.
She hesitated.
That one word exposed the problem.
They still saw the cost as partly mine.
As though I had been careless with them.
As though Dad had accidentally knocked them into a sink.
I shook my head.
“You’re not helping me replace them.
He destroyed them.”
Dad stood.
“I am not paying six thousand dollars because you ignored your brother.”
One of my friends inhaled sharply.
Dad realized too late what he had admitted in front of witnesses.
I took out my phone.
“Say that again.”
His face changed.
“No.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
We went upstairs.
I packed my clothes, books, lab supplies, and the few things that mattered to me.
Marcus appeared in the doorway while I boxed my textbooks.
For once, he wasn’t smirking.
“I didn’t think Dad would do that,” he said.
I kept packing.
“I know.”
“I was just mad.”
“I know.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I shouldn’t have grabbed your laptop.”
“No.”
