From Pantry To MIT: Their Regret

Catrina POV Cordell Corbett, his face alight with a horrifyingly fake smile, lunged forward the moment I pushed open Principal Thompson's door. He moved so quickly, Dona barely had time to put a restraining hand on his arm. "Catrina, darling! There you are! We've been so worried," he gushed, his voice oozing with a saccharine sweetness that made my stomach churn. He reached for me, his hands outstretched. I recoiled before he could touch me, batting his hands away with a sharp, dismissive gesture. My gaze, cold and unwavering, swept past him, landing on Principal Thompson and Ms. Goodman, who stood by, looking uncomfortable. "Principal Thompson," I began, my voice clear and steady, "correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't this school have a policy against unauthorized visitors on campus? Especially those who are not staff or registered family members?" Ms. Goodman's eyebrows shot up. Her eyes, usually so sharp and perceptive, widened in surprise. "Catrina, honey, these are your parents," she started, her voice laced with gentle confusion. I cut her off, my voice firm. "No, Ms. Goodman. They are not. I have no parents. I have been entirely on my own for quite some time now." I turned back to Cordell and Dona, my eyes narrowing. "Unless, of course, you can provide definitive proof of our parent-child relationship. A birth certificate with your names on it? A legal adoption decree? Perhaps a receipt for my dental work, or a record of my school tuition payments from the last three years?" I paused, letting the silence stretch. "Or, dare I ask, a single bill or expense that proves you have ever spent a dime on my upbringing since I was 'found'?" I met Cordell's gaze directly. "Can you provide any of that, Mr. Corbett?" Cordell's face drained of all color. His outstretched hands, moments ago so eager to embrace, now hung uselessly in the air. His eyes, fixed on mine, flickered with a mixture of panic and raw humiliation. Dona, her facade of calm completely shattered, stepped forward, her face a thundercloud. "That's enough, Catrina!" she hissed, her voice low and menacing. "We are your parents! Stop this ridiculous charade at once!" I didn't flinch. I met her furious glare head-on. "Are you?" I challenged, my voice still dangerously calm. "Then prove it. The burden of proof is on you. Can you tell me my birthday without looking at a calendar? Can you name my favorite book? My favorite color? A single dream I've ever shared with you?" I paused, letting the questions hang in the air, heavy with their unspoken answers. "No. You cannot. Because you never cared to know." Silence descended upon the room, thick and suffocating. Principal Thompson and Ms. Goodman exchanged a bewildered glance, their initial discomfort giving way to a dawning comprehension. "We were teaching you independence!" Cordell stammered, finally finding his voice, though it was thin and reedy. "Tough love!" I let out a short, cynical laugh. "Independence? You call abandonment independence? You call systematic abuse 'tough love'? What you inflicted upon me was neglect, plain and simple. And it was criminal." I turned to Principal Thompson, my voice gaining a steely edge. "They didn't just neglect me; they actively sabotaged my future. They tried to keep me from entering the National Robotics Championship, claiming my project was 'too dangerous' and 'a distraction from my studies.'" Ms. Goodman gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Her expression, which had been one of concern, now twisted into pure indignation. Principal Thompson's face hardened, his gaze fixed on the Corbetts.