My Mom Kicked Me Out on My Birthday

Eighteen should feel different.

It doesn't.

I'm standing in my bathroom, staring at my reflection. Same brown hair. Same gray eyes. The NYU acceptance letter is downstairs on the kitchen counter. Full ride to Tisch. Four months and I'm out of here. Out of Clearwater. Out of this house that stopped feeling like mine the day Victor moved in.

Mom's been watching me all morning. Not her usual surveillance—checking if I'm sitting straight, if my hair is neat. This is different. This is sad.

I don't know why.

There's a knock. "You ready?" Mom's voice.

"Yeah."

She looks at me for a long moment. Her eyes are red, but her face is composed. Makeup perfect. Hair pulled back.

"You look beautiful," she says.

I follow her downstairs.

The backyard is full. Neighbors. Classmates. Victor playing host. Casey and Imani are by the pool—Casey's been my best friend since middle school, the only one who really gets how weird things are with Victor. Mrs. Martinez brought cake. Ethan sits in the corner with his phone.

Victor sees me and waves. "There's the birthday girl!"

I force a smile. Accept hugs. Answer questions about NYU.

Mom stands by the kitchen door, arms crossed. She's wearing that floral dress, but she looks tired.

Victor taps his beer bottle with a fork. "Can I have everyone's attention?"

The backyard goes quiet.

"I just want to say how proud we are of Sloane. Graduating, getting into NYU—huge accomplishment." He puts his arm around Mom's shoulders. She doesn't lean in. "Now that Sloane's an adult, Nora and I have been talking about the next steps."

My stomach drops.

"NYU is expensive. Really expensive. We want Sloane to understand the value of money. So we've decided on some new house rules."

No.

"First, NYU costs about sixty thousand a year. We think it makes more sense for Sloane to take a gap year, work, save up. Maybe start at Bergen Community College."

Someone gasps.

"Second, if Sloane lives at home, she needs to contribute. Twelve hundred a month for rent, plus utilities."

I can't breathe.

"And third, Sloane will handle all household chores. Cooking, cleaning, helping with Ethan's homework."

The pool deck is silent.

I look at Mom.

Say something.

Please.

Tell him this is insane. Tell him I'm going to NYU. Tell him I worked for this.

"Nora and I agree," Victor continues. "Sloane needs to learn responsibility."

Mom uncrosses her arms.

"He's right," she says. Her voice is flat. Cold. "I was working full-time at eighteen. This is normal."

The words hit like a slap.

She's agreeing with him. In front of everyone. At my birthday party.

"Sloane's had it easy," Mom continues. "It's time she learns what the real world is like."

Had it easy?

I've worked part-time for two years while maintaining straight A's. I got into NYU on a full scholarship. I did everything she asked.

And this is what I get?

She's not even looking at me. Just standing there next to Victor like they planned this together.

They probably did.

I turn and walk into the house.

Behind me, voices start up again. Casey calling my name. I don't stop.

I go upstairs and close my door.

My hands are shaking.

Twelve hundred dollars. Community college. She agreed with him. She stood there and agreed with him.

I stare at the NYU letter on my desk.

Four months. That's all I had left.

There's a knock. The door opens. Mom walks in holding something—a handbag. Old brown leather. I recognize it from photos.

"Here," she says. Not gentle. Just stating fact.

"What?"

"It's your grandmother's. You always wanted it."

She sets it on my bed and leaves.

Just like that.

No explanation. No apology. Nothing.

I sit there, staring at the handbag.

The party continues downstairs like nothing happened.

Hours pass. People leave. The house goes quiet.

I pull out my duffel bag and start throwing in clothes. I don't know where I'm going. I just know I can't stay here.

It's almost midnight when my door opens again.

Mom walks in with a backpack. She doesn't say anything. Just sets it on my bed and unzips it.

Inside: water bottles, granola bars, cash.

"Five hundred dollars," she says. Her voice is different now. Urgent. "And this." A flip phone in packaging.

"What—"

"You're leaving. Tonight."

Tonight? Right now?

I just got humiliated at my own party and now she's kicking me out in the middle of the night?

"Casey's mother is expecting you." She grabs my duffel bag. Slings both bags over my shoulder. "Her brother is waiting at the corner."

She doesn't even want me here until morning. Can't wait one more night.

"Mom, I don't—"

"Out the window. Now."

She opens my window.

"Go."

I stare at her. Waiting for an explanation. An apology. Something.

Nothing.

Just that blank face. Those cold eyes.

The same face she had when Victor made his announcement.

She wants me gone.

Fine.

I climb out the window. Down the trellis. My feet hit grass.

I don't look back.

I run to the corner. Casey's brother's car is there, engine running. I throw my bags in and get in.

He pulls away immediately.

We drive in silence. Past Target where I work. Past my high school. Past the Starbucks where Mom gets her coffee every morning.

One street over, I can see my house. Lights still on. Kitchen window lit up.

She's probably cleaning up from the party. Making sure everything's perfect for Victor.

"Casey told me what happened at the party," her brother says. "That was messed up."

I don't answer.

"Her mom said you can stay with us. At least for tonight."

We pull into Casey's driveway. The house is dark except for the porch light.

He turns to look at me. "You good?"

I'm not good.

I just got kicked out in the middle of the night. My mother stood there while Victor destroyed my future, then agreed with him, then shoved me out a window with five hundred dollars and a backpack.

But I can't say that.

"Yeah," I say. "I'm good."