My twin brother's SAT scores cleared the college-admissions cutoff, and that same day, our parents booked the biggest five-star hotel in town for a lavish college celebration party.

My mother caked my face in heavy makeup, put me in a red gown, and stationed me at the hotel entrance as the hostess.

She held a sash so red it hurt to look at, and without a word she looped it over my head.

The gold lettering read: In joyous celebration of Earl Swanson's admission. With deepest thanks to his teachers.

"Today is your brother's big day. You're his sister, so you'll help hold up appearances."

She cinched the sash tighter and hissed low against my ear.

"Straighten your back. Smile. Stop looking like the world owes you a funeral. You'll wreck your brother's luck."

I caught my own reflection in the glass door, painted and gaudy, and dragged up a smile uglier than crying.

The teachers filed into the lobby one after another. Not one of them noticed the girl at the door was me.

Inside, my parents bent at the waist, raising their glasses to toast each teacher in turn.

At the entrance, I stood for three hours. Not a sip of water passed my lips.

Late that night, a black car screeched to a stop in the alley outside our house.

Four large men got out, dragged me straight off my bed, shoved me into the car, and delivered me to a reform boot camp.

It was only later that I learned my own parents had signed the papers to send me there to be "corrected."

Three days after that, people from the university admissions office smashed the lock and came storming into the facility.

"We're here for this year's statewide humanities valedictorian..."

1.

On the electronic screen above the hotel doors, giant characters scrolled past:

Welcome, honored teachers, to the Swanson family's celebration! Congratulations to our boy, Earl Swanson, on his admission.

Chin lifted, Earl had just stepped through the hotel's revolving door.

Then he turned right back and came straight up to me, arms crossed, leaning in.

He stared at my face for two full seconds, then burst out laughing.

"Ha! Daniela Swanson, it really is you?"

"I only said it as a joke. Didn't think Mom would actually make you stand at the door greeting people."

"Gotta say, though, these two ape-butt cheeks she painted on you aren't half bad. Festive. Ha!"

Earl clutched his stomach, doubled over laughing.

I kept my face flat and snapped, "Laugh it off and get lost."

"Mom, sis is being mean to me."

He clapped a hand to his chest like he'd suffered some terrible wrong, sniffling as he turned toward our mother.

"Mom, I'm fine, really."

"I just can't stand it. Fine, she's mean to me. But how could she make fun of you two?"

My mother's brow knotted tight. "Make fun of us how?"

"She said, she said I only got into some garbage school and you still had the nerve to throw a party. Said you didn't even care that the teachers would laugh in your faces."

Her hand flew up, and the next second my cheek was burning.

"Apologize to your brother! Garbage school? I see it now. You just can't stand to see him do well."

She jabbed her finger into my temple.

"On his big day, too. You've clearly been fed too well. Fine. No dinner for you tonight."

I'd been used to it my whole life.

Years ago, my mother nearly bled out during a difficult birth. A labor that turned into an emergency C-section, and to save her life the doctors took her uterus.

I was born a few minutes first, perfectly healthy.

Earl inhaled fluid and got a lung infection. Straight out of the womb, he went into the neonatal ICU.

My grandmother hired some lame old fortune-teller to perform rituals and drive off the bad luck. Forty-nine days of them, start to finish.

The man said my fate was too "hard," that I was cursing my brother, that I'd stolen his fortune from him back in the womb.

And they believed every word of it.

From preschool on, they begged and maneuvered to get me and Earl placed in the same class.

"Listen, girl. You take good care of your brother at school. You owe him that."

Every morning before we left, my mother said the same thing.

For years I carried Earl's backpack, did his homework, took the beatings from the neighborhood punks meant for him.

Now I looked at Earl, standing a full head taller than me, without a trace of the sickly boy left in him.

When Earl failed a test, my mother said it was because I hadn't looked after him, that I'd distracted him from his studies.

When Earl got heatstroke playing basketball, she blamed me for coming back too slow with his water, said I'd done it on purpose to hurt her precious son, said I had wicked intentions.

When Earl scraped his head, my grandmother said my hard fate had brought a "blood omen" down on her darling grandson.

For a long time, I believed it too. I believed I was the problem, so I didn't cry, didn't make a fuss.

Whatever I did for Earl, I told myself it was only right.

But the day the high school placement scores came out, I'd scored a full eighty points higher than Earl.

I wanted to apply to the top high school. The very next day, Earl launched a hunger strike.

He lay in bed looking frail, his voice rasping. "Mom, it's all my fault. I'm useless. I couldn't get into the top school."

"Alone at the second school, without my sister watching my back, those punks will beat me to death. I might as well just starve myself now."

My mother reached out and stroked Earl's hair, aching for him, then turned and shouted at me.

"Daniela, if you dare go behind our backs and apply to the top school, you won't see a dime for tuition or living expenses. Not one cent."

My father sat by the door, seven or eight cigarette butts crushed at his feet. It was a long while before he spoke.

"Dani, the second school isn't so bad. As long as you study hard, you can still get into a good college."

My mother cupped a hand over her lower belly. "Once you're at the second school, look after your brother more. Let him focus and get into a good college. You owe him that."

Every time she pulled out that line, all I could do was give in.

As though every misfortune they'd ever suffered was mine to answer for.

But this time, with college on the line, I wasn't going to give in again.

2: 2

2

The day the SAT scores came out, Earl sat squarely in the middle of the room.

Mom stood beside him, fists clenched, eyes locked on the computer screen.

Dad held up his phone and hit record, not wanting to miss the thrilling moment.

"Take it easy, our boy. You worked so hard, of course you got in."

He typed the last digit and pressed enter. One line, then another...

"Five-fifty. Over the admissions cutoff. Thank God." Mom threw her arms around Earl and kissed him, tears streaming down her face.

Earl marched into my room like a general home from war.

He tilted his head and glanced at my score page, saw it was blank, and grinned like he'd stumbled on the joke of the century.

He yelled toward the living room. "Mom, come look at this! Dani got a zero."

Mom, still holding a green bean she'd just snapped off, glanced at the screen and smacked me hard across the back.

"You little wretch, are you trying to send me to an early grave?" Dad said nothing in the living room.

If either of them had looked a second longer, they'd have seen the line of text under the blank score:

*Congratulations. You placed in the top 50 statewide in the humanities track. Your exact score will not be released at this time...*

I didn't lift my head. This time, I wasn't going to be stupid enough to tell them my score.

I stood at the hotel entrance for a full three hours and more.

The heels rubbed my skin raw until blood seeped through, and my feet burned and swelled until, in the end, I couldn't feel them at all.

Inside, Mom beamed as she pulled Earl from table to table to toast the teachers.

"Thank you, teachers, for everything you did for Earl. Without you, he wouldn't be where he is today."

Earl's homeroom teacher gave his shoulder a token pat, then turned to Mom.

"Say, where's his sister, Daniela? Her scores must be out by now too, aren't they?"

Mom mumbled something about not being able to find my score yet.

His math teacher sighed. "Daniela has a real gift for this. She won gold at the academic olympiad, she could've had guaranteed admission to a top university, and she gave it up. Such a shame."

...

The teachers went back and forth, and not one of them said a word about Earl.

Watching the party his parents had thrown for him get upstaged by me, Earl's face went from red to white — and something in him finally broke.

Nothing anyone said could keep him at his own party. He covered his face and bolted out through the hotel lobby.

Mom couldn't let herself blow up in front of the teachers, so she chased me out to the entrance and screamed in my face.

"Daniela, today is your brother's day. Why do you always have to steal it from him?"

"Your grandmother was right. You're a curse on him! I should never have gone soft. I should've aborted you back when I had the chance!"

I froze where I stood, forcing myself upright.

I hadn't had a drop of water all day, and now the burning in my stomach rose up with a rush of something I couldn't name.

"Then do it. You should have just beaten me to death back then!"

I clenched my fists and screamed it back, nails sinking deep into my palms.

My sudden shout startled her. She stumbled back a step and dropped hard to the ground.

Before, no matter how much Mom protected Earl.

It hurt, but I'd never once talked back to her face.

The moment I disobeyed, she'd start to cry.

And every time she cried, I gave in.

After long enough, I stopped fighting at all.

Dad came stumbling out after her and brought his hand down across my face, hard.

"Crack—"

It was the first time he'd ever hit me.

I didn't dodge, and I didn't cry. I just turned my face back, slowly, and stared him dead in the eye.

Earl was still sniveling. He pointed toward Mom.

"Dad, all she did was say a few words to Dani, and Dani tried to beat her to death."

Looking at that mouth of his, twisting everything upside down, I felt the blood run backward in my veins, so furious my fingertips spasmed.

I lunged and clamped ten fingers around his throat like an iron vise.

"Earl, you say one more word out of that mouth, and I swear to God I'll finish you right here."

Earl clawed at my hands, face going purple, and wailed at Dad.

"Dad, help, my sister's trying to kill me!"

Mom had been collapsed on the ground, crying. In an instant she came at me like a raging lioness.

She grabbed at the leg of my pants, nails almost tearing my skin, and threw her head back and shrieked at me.

"Let go, let go of him! Do you want to kill your brother?"

I let go, and Earl slid down to the ground like a heap of mud.

Both hands at his throat, mouth wide, gasping for air.

"Hah... hah..."

Mom snatched Earl into her arms. "My boy, my boy! Open your eyes, look at Mommy."

She sobbed, and over her shoulder she shot me a look that could have cut.

The teachers heard the commotion at the door and hurried over to smooth things down.

My father, his face a livid gray, forced out a smile uglier than tears. “I'm so sorry. What a scene for you all to witness.”

Just then his phone rang, and Grandma Valerie Swanson's voice leaked out of the receiver.

“This is all your doing, spoiling that daughter of yours! If anything happens to my precious grandson, I won't go on living either.”

“This morning Bob Lambert's mother sent a matchmaker over. I think that Bob's a fine boy, knows his own mind.”

“Marry Daniela off to him. I don't believe she'll stay defiant then.”

My father was silent a moment, then answered, “All right.”

This Bob Lambert they kept talking about, he'd bullied me all through elementary school. Had they really forgotten that?

“You sit in there and reflect on yourself.” My mother shoved me into the room and locked the door.

I'd actually learned my lesson this time. I thought if I said nothing about my scores, the worst they'd assume was that I hadn't gotten into college.

Just then my phone rang first.

The caller ID read: unknown number. The university admissions office.

I swiped up and pressed the green answer key.

One door between us, and the crowd on the other side didn't lower their voices at all. I could hear every word.

“That's what I always say. You can't spoil a girl. What good is all that studying? She still has to get married in the end.”

My aunt lifted her chin, smug all over her face.

“Look at our Ellie Pope. Finished middle school, went straight into the factory, six thousand a month now.”

“Couple more years, that'll go up too.”

“Hey, how much is Bob putting up for the bride price?”

Earl flashed a hand signal.

“A hundred eighty thousand. Mom already said it. Every cent stays with me.”

My aunt paused. “I'm guessing she won't go along with it.”

“That little brat's stubborn. What if she kicks up a huge fuss? Aren't you afraid somebody ends up dead?”

......

The other side of the door went dead quiet, until Earl spoke again.

But his voice dropped low, too low for me to catch a word of it.

It didn't matter. I'd already booked my bus ticket for tomorrow night.

My bag was packed in no time. One small twenty-inch suitcase held everything I owned.

I took one last long look at the little room where I'd lived for eighteen years.

My mind slowly went hazy, and I sank into a heavy sleep.

Late that night, a black sedan lurched to a stop in the alley outside our door.

Four burly men climbed out, hauled me straight off the bed, and shoved me into the car.

I screamed as hard as I could, but not one person in that house came out.

A few seconds later it all came clear to me, and I stopped wasting a scrap of strength.

Before long they'd brought me to the “Mingde Reform Boot Camp.”

Concrete walls over ten feet high ringed the place, topped with a coil of electrified fencing.

Below the wire, jagged shards of glass stood packed thick along the top.

The car hadn't even fully stopped when I heard the chanting drifting out from inside, echoing like something wailing.

【The obedience codes, taught by the sages.】

【Above all comes honoring your parents.】

【Your body, your very skin and hair, all of it granted by your parents.】

Two thick-shouldered instructors swaggered up to me, grabbed an arm each, and dragged me inside like a bag of garbage.

The dormitory building reeked of mold and disinfectant.

They flung me into an eight-bunk dorm.

“New girl. Behave yourself!”

Behind me came a heavy clang as the lock dropped.

That sound jolted me clean out of my sleep.

I looked around at everything, the room dim, the iron frames of the bunks scabbed with rust.

A few girls about my own age raised their eyes to me, their gazes dull, bruises scattered somewhere on every face and body.

I struggled to my feet and glanced at the four big yellow characters on the red banner on the wall, 【Be Grateful to Your Parents】, and a cold smile tugged at my lips.

Half an hour later, those same two instructors dragged me out of the dorm again.

They threw me into a room with a sign hanging on it that read “Psychological Correction Room.”