"I didn't wreck it," I said defensively, playing with the tips of my hair. "And it was my car. You gave it to me."

"Was?" he yelped, jerking straight. "Rache, what did you do?"

"I sold it," I admitted, flushing.

"You what!"

"I sold it." Turning my back on him, I carefully pulled the carafe off the hot plate and poured out two cups. Sure, it smelled great, but I bet it tasted as bad as the stuff Mom bought.

"Rachel, it was a classic!"

"Which is why I got enough from it to get my black belt," I said, and he slumped back, exasperated.

"Look," I said, setting a cup beside him and sitting down. "I couldn't drive it, and Mom can't keep a regular job long enough to get a month's worth of pay. It was just taking up room."

"I can't believe you sold my car." He was staring at me, long face aghast. "For what? To be able to dance like Jackie Chan?"

My lips pressed together. "I was mad at you, okay?" I exclaimed, and his eyes widened. "You walked out of here after Dad's funeral and didn't come back. I was left trying to keep Mom together. And then everyone at school found out and started pushing me around. I like feeling strong, okay? A car I couldn't drive wasn't doing it, but the gym was. I needed the money to get my belt, so I sold it!"

He looked at me, guilt shining in the back of his eyes.

"You, ah, want to see what I can do?" I asked hesitantly.

Robbie's breath came in fast, and he shook himself. "No," he said, eyes on the table. "You did the right thing. I wasn't here to protect you. It was my fault."

"Robbie…" I whined. "It's not anybody's fault. I don't want to be protected. I'm a lot stronger now. I can protect myself. Actually…" I looked at the application, my fingers cold as I reached for it. I knew he wouldn't approve, but if I could get him on my side, we might be able to convince Mom—and then I wouldn't have to wait. "Actually, I'd like to do more than that."