"A dimwit like you—what would you ever do without me?"

A genius who never forgot a single thing, and yet he'd forgotten I was allergic to mango.

But just a moment ago, he'd carefully picked every last sprig of cilantro out of Pat's food.

I coughed so hard my eyes started to water.

I gulped down a big mouthful of water and ignored the out Nicholas was offering me.

He froze for a second.

Then his face darkened, and he set the mango juice down hard in front of Pat.

The dinner broke up on a sour note.

A few classmates picked up on the tension and suggested we all go sing karaoke.

Nicholas draped Pat's coat over her shoulders and spoke first.

"No thanks. We're heading back to rest."

"Pat says staying up late damages the brain, so she makes a point of going to sleep before ten."

Because of that habit of hers.

For three years of high school, I never watched TV again, never listened to a single song.

Even when I wanted to review or do homework, I had to carry a stool out into the hallway.

Now I was finally free, and I wanted to let loose for once.

"Nicholas, you two go on ahead."

"I'm going to sing."

Nicholas was displeased again.

"Clara, can't you be a little more sensible?"

"Your brain was never a match for Pat's to begin with. Are you only happy if you turn yourself into a complete idiot?"

It was just like when he changed my college applications without asking me.

Nicholas always said it was for my own good, but he never once asked what I actually wanted.

I wanted to sing. I wanted to go to the teaching college.

I wanted to decide for myself the path I'd really walk one day.

My pushing back, again and again, drove Nicholas to the edge.

He shot me a vicious glare, took Pat by the hand, and got in the car.

I lowered my head and watched the moonlight stretch my shadow into one long, thin line.

The truth was, Nicholas liked staying up late too.

Back then he used to lie out on the grass with me, watching the stars, listening to the summer cicadas.

But there were no stars in the city.

Only Pat, who had to go to bed early.

Nicholas, who never gave an inch on anything, decided to respect Pat's habit.

Three years of high school. A thousand-some nights.

He compromised for Pat more than a thousand times.

And now he wouldn't turn back for me even once.

By the time the singing was over, it was already midnight.

The other classmates all had family coming to pick them up.

I was the only one who took a cab home alone.

The door had been bolted from the inside.

I sent a few messages in the group chat. No one answered.

I was still hesitating over whether to call them when I heard Pat's voice inside.

"Nicholas, are you really going to lock Clara out?"

"This old neighborhood isn't safe, and she doesn't have money for a hotel. Isn't that dangerous?"

Nicholas's voice came through, mixed with the sound of his video game.

"I'm just teaching her a lesson. We'll see if she still dares to ignore what I say."

"Nicholas is right. That Clara was spoiled rotten by her grandmother, picked up a whole set of bad habits out in the country. She needs a good lesson."

That was Dad's voice.

"Forget it, don't waste your breath on her."

"It's not every day our family produces two kids headed to the top university. Let's think about how to celebrate instead."

That was Mom.

Not one of them was asleep.

And not one of them was willing to open the door for me.

Because of Nicholas, I'd gone all three years of high school without a single friend.

So now, locked out, I had nowhere to go.

From the bottom of the building came the cursing of some drunk.

I didn't dare wander off, so I sat on the stairwell steps all night.

The light overhead was old and broken, flickering on and off.

Like the stars back home.

I pulled my coat tighter around me, and somehow I fell asleep.

Not until morning, when Nicholas kicked me awake.

"Clara, did you really sleep out here all night? I figured you'd crashed at a classmate's place."

"How can one person be this dense? If you couldn't get in, why didn't you just call me?"

"I did. You were too busy playing games with Pat to pick up."

Nicholas paused, then frowned and reached down to haul me up.

My legs had gone numb. I couldn't stand.

I pitched straight into his arms.

His body went stiff, the tips of his ears flushing red.

His expression had only just softened when Pat's voice drifted out from inside.

"Sis, you're back. Come in and eat."

"Mom just boiled some shrimp."

The second he heard that, Nicholas shoved me away and hurried back to Pat's side.

"The bowls are too hot. Leave them, I've got it. You just sit and eat."

Five people, four stools.

In this house, it seemed there had never been a place for me.

Mom froze for a moment, then gave an awkward excuse.

"You never eat on time anyway. We're used to it."

It wasn't that I didn't eat on time. It was that Nicholas and the others finished their homework so fast.

By the time I'd worked through the last big problem, all that was left on the table were cold scraps and a pile of dishes to wash.

Nicholas pulled out the stool for Pat, then set the whole plate of shrimp down in front of me.

"You've got nothing better to do, so go help Pat peel these in the kitchen."

"People with bad grades should at least be good with their hands. Handy for waiting tables at a restaurant someday."

Pat let out a giggle.

"Nicholas, don't be mean. My sister isn't as useless as you make her sound."

"Her math is terrible, sure, but she could still manage as a cashier. Stop bossing her around all the time."

Nicholas didn't even look up.

"No need to feel sorry for her. She's used to all this from her days out in the country. She's not that delicate."

The country was hard. Money was tight, and Grandma was getting old.

I'd been helping with the laundry and the cooking since I was very small.

The stove was too high. I couldn't reach.

Every time smoke rose from a kitchen fire in our house, Nicholas, who lived at the east end of the village, would carry a stool over to help me.

He never tired of telling me the same thing.

"You've got me. What's there to be scared of?"

"I'd never let you go hungry."

Later, Grandma passed away.

Nicholas came with me all the way from the country to the city, and moved into my family's home.

We were closer now, physically, than we'd ever been.

Yet our hearts seemed to drift further and further apart.

A whole night in the cold draft of the stairwell had left my head swimming.

I had no appetite.

Back in my room, I pulled the blanket over my head.

Mom sighed the way you sigh at something you've given up on.

"This child. Throwing another tantrum."

"Same parents, and yet the gap between her and Pat is this wide. How?"

"Sometimes I want to run a DNA test, just to see if they swapped the babies on us back then."

Dad sighed along with her.

"Let her be."

"If she won't rise to it, what can we do?"

"We've got Nicholas and Pat, two children who actually care about us. That's enough."

Pat had grown up at our parents' side, given the best education the city had to offer.

But as far back as I could remember,

the only things beside me were endless fields and my illiterate grandmother.

How could a girl like me ever measure up to Pat, who'd been raised in love?

My head throbbed, foggy and miserable.

I drifted off into a daze.

When I opened my eyes again, the house was pitch dark.

My whole body burned like a furnace.

Out of habit, I called Nicholas's name. No answer.

I texted him. No reply.

I don't know how much time passed before Pat's call came through.

"Sis, Nicholas and I went on a trip, and Mom and Dad couldn't stop worrying, so they tagged along too."

"Oh, it's all my fault. I was in such a rush packing that I forgot to invite you."

Nicholas snatched the phone.

"No need to explain so much to her."

"With a score that low, what nerve would she have to go on a trip anyway?"

"Clara, just stay home and study. Stop thinking about having fun all day."

The line went dead, and everything was pitch-black again.

Back when I was in the countryside, Pat was always messaging me to show off her study tours, her spring outings, her vacations.

Country kids never got to experience any of that.

Every time I saw those messages, I'd ache with envy.

Nicholas would take my hand and smile.

"What's so special about it? Once we test into the city, I'll take you. Anywhere you want to go, we'll go!"

From that moment on, I started writing my wishes down, one by one, in this little plan booklet.

Where we'd go, what we'd do, none of it mattered.

As long as I was with Nicholas, I was happy.

Now the chance was right in front of me.

But Nicholas had left me far, far behind.

I dug out that crumpled plan booklet.

I picked up a pen and put a check mark beside the line, "Get into my dream college."

Then I read down through it, word by word.

"Go to the amusement park with Nicholas and ride the Ferris wheel."

"Visit the city library with Nicholas."

"Take graduation photos and a family portrait with Nicholas."

……

Twenty-nine lines in all.

The handwriting went from childish to neat.

Every single line, we'd written together.

Too bad he didn't remember any of it.

I fished two fever pills out of the drawer.

Once I felt a little better, I called Mark Lane and asked if he knew the address of the city library.

He laughed the second he heard the question.

"The tests are over. What would you even go to the library for?"

"Clara, don't tell me you're actually planning to retake the SATs. Take my advice and let it go. A place like the top university isn't somewhere ordinary people can get into."

"People like us, we're not the same as geniuses like Nicholas and his crowd."

Yes. I knew that.

Chasing after a genius was just too exhausting.

So this time, I only wanted to finish these wishes on my own.

"I'm not retaking anything. I just want to go see it."

My college is over seven hundred miles from Harbor City.

Once I left, I wouldn't be coming back.

But I still hadn't seen the sights of Harbor City.

I wanted to leave without any regrets.

I started tutoring on the side to earn money.

Part of it I set aside for future tuition and living expenses.

Part of it I spent on a dress, and on the amusement park.

When the Ferris wheel reached its highest point,

the evening breeze of Harbor City lifted the hem of my dress ever so gently.

No wonder Pat looked so happy in that photo.

So this was how it felt, standing up high.

I took a picture and posted it to my feed.

Not long after, Nicholas called.

"Clara, what's that photo of yours supposed to mean?"

"What do you mean?"

"Pat just posted her travel pictures, and you turned right around and posted that. Isn't that you deliberately telling everyone that we're leaving you out?"

There was real anger in his voice.

"Delete the post right now and apologize to Pat."

"Because of that photo of yours, she's insisting on cutting the trip short to come back and keep you company."

I idly scrolled down.

Right below my photo was Pat's newest post.

The four of them standing on a mountaintop, smiling like flowers in bloom.