Dr. Nasele.

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I want you on your very best behavior when you meet Elaine in Samantha.

My father reminded me, just before I met the woman who would change my life forever.

She and I have become close in the past few months, and I'd like it a lot if the two of you could get along.

Close, gross.

I made a face.

12-year-old me had zero intention of getting along with this stranger, who was supposed to replace mom or her dumb kid.

With a grimace, my father pushed open the glass double doors leading to the garden cafe.

It was the fanciest place I'd ever seen.

A woman with luscious dark hair and a blue dress and white sun hats stood to wave us over.

And I was suddenly aware of the dirt on my shoes, how greasy my skin was, and the way my supermarket t-shirt didn't fit quite right.

I'd like to introduce you to Elaine Laurent and her daughter, Samantha.

My father was saying somewhere in the background, but I wasn't listening.

Elaine was beautiful. Elaine was gracious. Elaine could light up her room with her smile, but her daughter, her daughter wasn't human.

Samantha was a preteen-sized mannequin in a wheelchair, with a brown wig on its head, and a crude face painted over its anonymous plastic features.

Please tell me this is a joke.

I whispered to my father. He shook his head angrily.

What was that deer? Elaine leaned toward me.

My son was saying just how incredible this place is.

My father nudged me in the ribs, and I nodded along.

Inside, I cringed.

...