3: 3

I gripped the phone.

"Mom, my code isn't working."

"I changed it."

"I've raised you to eighteen. After this you can do whatever you want, as long as you stop bothering me."

"Hang around outside my door again and I'll call the police to haul you off."

"Oh, and there's a bag of trash by the door. Take it down with you."

"Mom, then what about my acceptance letter—"

I waited quietly for five minutes.

She didn't answer.

I took the phone from my ear and tapped the screen.

She'd hung up five minutes ago.

I waited an hour outside the door.

When I was sure she wasn't going to let me in, I went downstairs.

Almost out of the complex, I turned and looked back at her place. The lights had already gone dark.

I walked for two hours and reached the train station.

I dug my ID and bank card out of my phone case.

There was $954.30 left on the card, saved up from summer jobs.

Mom never sent me any living expenses, so I'd had to work my way through school.

After the exams, this was all I had left.

I bought a hard-seat ticket for $123.60.

It got in at ten tomorrow morning. I'd make it.

Sitting in the waiting room, I couldn't understand why Mom's decluttering only ever meant throwing out my things.

My exam admission ticket had been one of them. So was my acceptance letter.

On exam day, Max snatched my admission ticket right out of my hand and took off, shouting as he ran.

"I want to verify the card! I want to verify the card!"

I chased after him, tripped over the coffee table, and went down hard.

My head hit the corner of the couch, raising a lump and scraping the skin.

Max saw me fall, crouched in front of me, and waved the admission ticket back and forth.

"Card checks out."

I reached for it. He scrambled to his feet and tore the ticket into tiny pieces.

"Grab it, refine it in an instant!"

He planted his hands on his hips and laughed. I picked the scraps up off the floor.

I wanted to piece them back together, but he'd shredded them too finely, and no matter how I tried, they wouldn't fit.

Seeing me try, he stomped all over them, hopping foot to foot.

"Bold mortal, have you not witnessed my true power? And yet you'd dare save this card's life!"

"Stomp, stomp, stomp!"

Mom came out of the kitchen and hurled a half-chopped gourd at my head.

"What's all this racket first thing in the morning?"

The tears came, panicked.

"Mom, Max tore up my admission ticket."

Mom stroked Max's head.

"Good boy, Max, helping Mom declutter."

Then she turned and looked at me with disgust.

"So he tore it up. It's just the exams, isn't it? Who do you think you are, some emperor?"

"Your brother just likes to play. Would it kill you, as his older brother, to let him have his fun?"

"Sit it if you want, skip it if you don't. Doesn't matter to me."

"With that thick skull of yours, born out in the country, you were never going to get in anyway."

"Go start delivering food. At least then you can put a little toward your brother's tuition."

Clutching my pens and pencils, I ran to the testing center, crying the whole way.

At the door, a teacher stopped me.

"Where's your admission ticket?"

"No admission ticket, no exam!"

The tears came again.

It was my homeroom teacher who got there in time, bringing a backup admission ticket, so that I could sit the exams after all.

I murmured to myself:

Was it because I wasn't useful enough? Was that why Mom threw me away?

The train swayed and rocked, like my uneasy heart.

What if there was no acceptance letter and I couldn't register?

And if I could register, what if I had no money for tuition?

If I couldn't get into college, and Mom decided I was useless and didn't want me, what then?

Three questions. I turned them over the whole way there.

4: 4

Just after noon, I reached the gates of Kingsley University.

Everyone around me was loaded down with bags, mothers and fathers at their sides.

I stood there with nothing, not even my acceptance letter.

A volunteer spotted me.

"Hi, are you here to register?"

I nodded, then shook my head.

"I lost my acceptance letter. Can I still enroll?"

The volunteer eyed me doubtfully.

"What's your name? Which college? Did you bring your ID?"

I answered each question quickly and pulled out my ID.

He scrolled through a video, held it up next to my face, and his eyes lit up.

"You're Elijah Walker, the top scorer from Lakeport! I saw the coverage on you."

"How did you score a 145 on the English section? That's insane. Are you even human?"

"Losing your acceptance letter is no problem. The college has all your information on file."

I twisted the hem of my shirt and kept going.

"I don't have the tuition. Can I still enroll?"

He blinked, then smiled.

"Don't worry, there's a special financial-aid channel for that."

"And our school has tons of work-study spots. You can even earn wages helping professors."

After he got me registered, he took me on a little tour of the campus.

In the crowd, I saw my mother.

She had Max by the hand and was going red in the face arguing with someone from the admissions office.

"Don't you look down on us! So what if it's 186? Why can't he get into Kingsley?"

"He's still got two years, doesn't he? Careful, or I'll report you for crushing my son's self-esteem!"

"Do you know my younger son was born in the city? If my older one, born out in the country, could get in, then getting Max into a school like yours is no trouble at all!"

"I flew all the way out here just to bring Max to see your school. If you won't take him, then you can refund our plane tickets!"

The admissions officer answered awkwardly.

"Ma'am, please, calm down."

"If your son had a total over 500, two years of hard work might get him into Kingsley."

"But your son scored 186 on his finals. That's under 27 per subject on average."

"You have to understand, our lowest admission cutoff this year was 689."

I stood frozen where I was.

So Mom had planned to bring Max here today.

She'd never said a word to me about it.

Back home, whenever I studied, Max never let up on the jabs.

"Bro, why do you even try so hard?"

"Mom already said it. Kids born in the city are just smarter than the ones born in the country!"

"It's a talent thing! Greatness speaks for itself!"

"Watch me blow past you on the SATs, bro! I'll waltz into Kingsley, easy!"

But he stayed glued to the internet, and his total on his freshman-year finals came out to 186.

Mom turned and saw me. I worked up my courage and said to her,

"I got registered, Mom. I promise I'll make something of myself from now on."

She raised her voice.

"You got registered? Didn't I throw out your acceptance letter?"

The other parents started murmuring.

"Who throws out their own kid's acceptance letter? What kind of parent is that?"

Mom fired back.

"Ever heard of decluttering? You keep trash around for the holidays or something?"

She grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me in front of the admissions officer.

"Look at this blockhead. Even he got into your school, and you're telling me my Max can't?"

"You call yourselves teachers?"

Every gaze around me swung toward me.

Some pitying, some embarrassed.

Mom yanked me by the collar.

"No. You're not going to college."

"I'll give you two choices. Either you go do delivery work right now and save up tuition for your brother!"

"Or you go back to high school and repeat the year with him until he gets into Kingsley."

She turned on the admissions people, her voice full of venom.

"Once my younger son gets into Kingsley, I'm reporting every last one of you! I'll have you all thrown out!"

"Unbelievable. Nowadays even a blind fool can be a college teacher! Disgusting!"

I'd gotten into Kingsley as the state's top scorer, and my mother still thought I was useless.

If I went and did delivery work, or repeated the year, she'd only think I was more useless, and then she'd throw me away.

I didn't want to be thrown away.

I stayed where I was and said nothing.

Furious, she slapped me right there in front of everyone.

"Grown wings now, have you? You won't even listen to me anymore?"

"You know what, the one thing I should really be decluttering is you!"

My face burned, and the tears came.

She held me there, refusing to let go, when a figure suddenly stepped in front of me.

"Monica, what do you think you're doing?"