I dragged the trash bag out to the back balcony on the third floor and dropped it over the side, then grabbed the drainage pipe and climbed down, slow and steady.

By the time I came out front, the wedding convoy was pulling into the neighborhood.

The lead car had roses tied across the front.

In the back seat, Charlotte had her arms around Gideon's neck, leaning up to kiss him.

Neighbors lined the sidewalk, watching and talking.

"They're both from Wexford, top of their class. I heard the groom came from nothing. Lived on cheap food for three years just to stay in school."

My phone buzzed with a picture from my 17-year-old self.

It showed a math worksheet, half of it blank.

[I'm done. Tell me who the groom is.]

I sent him the campus photo from inside the house.

The chat went quiet for a few seconds before my phone rang. His voice was off.

"How is it Gideon?"

-

When I got back to the dorm, I noticed Charlotte had sent me 800 dollars.

[Found your hair on the floor, so I knocked 200 off your pay.]

I started typing that I had worn a cap. There was no way it was mine.

My younger self called again.

"Is it really Gideon?

"I supported him through high school. I scraped by for three years and sent him money in secret. He said he'd remember. So how is he marrying Charlotte?"

A blister had formed on my heel. I took a needle and popped it, cutting him off.

"If you want the answer, start today. Complete two math sets and one full science paper every day. Learn fifty new words and do five reading passages."

He hesitated. "Why? Charlotte said she'd take me overseas. I don't need to push for the SAT."

I chuckled. "She also said she'd marry you at 25."

His voice started to shake. "So I didn't get into college? I didn't go abroad? What did I do?"

"Factory work, twelve-hour shifts."

I heard young me suck in a breath, then a few broken sounds. He was crying.

From that day on, we went through practice tests together, one question at a time.

We stayed on the phone for hours. When he got stuck, he asked. I explained while I worked.

Before high school, I had been near the top of my class. I knew what worked for me.

It went smoothly. He learned fast.

A week later, I took a day off and went home.

My mom opened the door. The second she saw me, she looked away.

"Why are you here again? Didn't I tell you not to come so often?"

I stayed at the door.

"I need my ID. The factory scheduled a physical. I can't go without it."

"Then wait outside. Don't come in. Your shoes are filthy."

Through my headset, my 17-year-old self sounded confused.

"What's wrong with Mom? She just made me soup earlier."

I didn't answer. I looked past her and saw my dad sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone like I wasn't there.

Gideon walked out of the kitchen in a fitted shirt and slacks, smiling.

"You're here. Mom made soup. Have some before you go."

Mom leaned out right away. "That's for Gideon and Charlotte. Don't touch it."

Gideon gave me a small shrug, like he couldn't help it.

At that moment, Charlotte came downstairs in a red dress.

"Mom, Gideon and I are going out for dinner tonight. You and Dad should join us."

Dad smiled and told Mom to get ready.

Charlotte glanced at me, frowned, and looked away.

"We're heading out. Stay and clean up."

I kept my head down. "I just need my ID. I'll grab it and leave. I have to get back to work."

"One grand," she said easily before taking Gideon's hand and walking out.

At the door, Gideon added, "We don't stay here much, but keep our room clean. Not a single hair."

After saying they couldn't find my ID, my parents left, too.

The house Charlotte claimed for herself was quiet again, with just me inside.

I pulled off my headset. It felt like it had been buzzing the whole time. Young Edmund was still going off.

"Why does Gideon get to call our mom 'Mom'? His parents are long gone. I'm the one who worked and saved to put him through school!"

Young Edmund kept going. "And why are Mom and Dad treating you like that? You're their son.

"And what's wrong with Charlotte? She's got you cleaning like hired help. Who does she think she is?

"Say something, Edmund. Where's your backbone? They took your parents and Charlotte, and you're still taking it. Are you just gonna swallow your pride for a few thousand bucks?"

I kept wiping the table and let him finish.

"I need the money."

"How much do you need? I've been wanting to say this. What are you doing at that stupid factory? You're a grown man. You can work anywhere. Why stay there?"

I stopped, pulled off my mask, and took a photo before sending it.

In the photo, I stood expressionless beneath a baseball cap. The brim did little to hide the scars. They cut across my face in raised ridges, running from my forehead down my neck before disappearing beneath my collar.

"Because I don't have a choice."

He went quiet.

By the time I made it upstairs, I heard him trying to hold it in.

"Does it hurt?"

"It used to. Not anymore."

He was fighting it, but his voice still shook. "What happened in those eight years?"

Eight years. It went by faster than it should have.

Right before the SAT, I believed Charlotte and skipped school for a month.

The morning of the test, she called. She said Gideon had forgotten his admission ticket and needed me to bring it.

She said, "It doesn't matter if you take the test. He can't miss it."

So I went.

On my way there, a car came the wrong way and hit me, sending me several yards down the road.

I didn't die, but I missed the SAT and spent two months in the hospital.

The day I got out, I heard Charlotte and Gideon were heading to Wexford University, the best school in the country.

I went straight to the Collins' house to confront Charlotte.

"You said you'd send me abroad."

She looked at me like I was a nuisance. "I said that offhand. You took it seriously?"

Gideon stood next to her, trying not to laugh, like I was a joke to him.

I grabbed his wrist.

I wasn't trying to hurt him. I remembered what he was like when he first came to the city. I couldn't bring myself to do anything to him.

He screamed anyway and jerked back.

Charlotte rushed in and shoved me hard, sending me straight into a full-length mirror. It shattered, and I went face-first into the glass.

Blood ran down my face as my palms and bare calves split open almost instantly.

That was the day my life fell apart.

Dad couldn't accept what I had become, and Mom lost it and threw me out.

To keep them calm, Charlotte suggested they take Gideon in instead.

Just like that, I lost my home and my family.

I dropped out of high school. With my scarred face, no one would hire me. The factory was the only place that would take me.

I worked and saved for surgery. I studied when I could, hoping to retake the SAT.

But Mom kept my ID. She told me that Gideon had warned her, saying I wasn't stable, that I might use it for something stupid.

When Charlotte found out I needed money, she started calling me in to clean whenever she felt like it.

At first, I pushed back. I said whatever I could to hurt her.

But I needed the money.

The surgery alone cost 100 thousand. At the factory, I was stuck at the lowest pay.

The 1,000 she tossed me was half a month's wages.

Over time, I went numb. I stopped arguing and barely spoke.

I had no friends, no family, and no real chance at taking the SAT again.

Eight years stretched on like a bottomless pit. After a while, I didn't even have the strength to hate anymore.

Young Edmund broke down.

"What are you crying for?" I asked. "I told you, I don't feel anything anymore."

"I'm crying for you," he said between sobs.

I didn't answer. I crouched down and kept scrubbing the floor.

He sniffed and steadied himself. "I'm going to study. I mean it."

"Okay."

From that day on, every time I called him, he was buried in practice sets.

He didn't stop, no matter the hour.

The morning of the SAT, I got off my shift and saw a message from him.

Young Edmund wrote, [Thirty minutes till the test.]

I wanted to say something encouraging, but it had been a long time since anyone had said anything like that to me.

I stood there, trying to come up with the right words. I had just dialed when a pair of red heels stopped in front of me.

Charlotte looked at me and jerked her chin toward the car.

"I've got a meeting. Come with me and clean the conference room."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Two grand."

"Not today. I'm busy."

I turned to go, but her voice came after me, flat. "You still want your ID so you can retake the SAT, right?

"If this deal closes, I'll give it back. And I'll give you 20 grand."

My young self was right. I had no backbone.

For 20 thousand and my ID, I got in the car.

Charlotte brought me to an office building and led me into a conference room. It was pitch black inside.

Something felt wrong. I turned and caught the glass door before it shut.

"I can't clean in the dark," I said, frowning.

Charlotte tossed something at me. "Put it on."

In the sliver of light from the hallway, I saw what it was: a pair of men's underwear, thin and barely there.

"What's this supposed to be?"

Charlotte crossed her arms.

"Mrs. Crayford can't see well. With the lights off, she won't notice much. She enjoys it more that way.

"If she's happy, the deal goes through."

A few people outside laughed under their breath.

Cold crept up my spine as I asked, "You lied to me?"

Charlotte glanced down at her nails.

"So? I lied to you before the SAT, too. You believed me then."

My heart was pounding.

"Why? We grew up together. Why would you do this?"

"That's on you. Gideon's sensitive, but you kept helping him, paying for things. What, you wanted to show off that you had a family and money?"

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. I couldn't believe the whole thing started with me helping Gideon.

"Gideon was scared you'd outscore him, make him feel small. And I was tired of you hanging around me. A couple of lies, and you stopped studying. That's on you."

Her eyes moved over my face, full of contempt.

"You still think you can retake the SAT? Stop kidding yourself. Work for me. I'll give you 3,000 a month. That's better than the factory.

"You should be grateful Mrs. Crayford doesn't mind your ugly face."

The lock clicked.

A heavyset woman stepped out of the dark, laughing low.

"Ms. Collins said you might be difficult and told me to be patient. But I like it when they fight back. Makes it interesting."

I backed up fast, breathing hard, until my back hit the wall.

I yelled, "Don't touch me! This is assault. I'm calling the police!"

Lydia Crayford laughed. "I bring Ms. Collins business, and she brings me someone to play with. Where's the problem?"

She grabbed my throat, her other hand reaching for my clothes.

"Relax, young man. I'll help you change."

My phone slipped from my pocket and hit the floor.

The call was still connected. Young Edmund had heard everything.

I could hear him panting, like he was running.

"Wait for me. I'm coming!" he screamed into the phone.

Lydia's hand closed around my belt.

As her grip tightened on my throat and the air cut off, my vision washed out in white.

For a split second, I thought I was blacking out.

Then I realized it was light. Harsh fluorescent light.

I was sitting at the head of the conference table, a contract spread out in front of me.

A man in a suit leaned in from my left, his tone careful and respectful, "Mr. Lockwood, this is Ms. Collins."

I looked down and saw Charlotte on her knees in front of me, her hands clasped, her eyes red.

"Mr. Lockwood, please. The Collins family can't survive without this deal.

"Just give me a chance. I'll do whatever you want!"