A Bright Road Ahead

For as long as I could remember, whenever danger struck, my parents' first instinct was always to shield my brother, Cyrus Lockwood.

Maya was always the first to calm him down, too. Meanwhile, I was the "adult" who was simply expected to look after him.

They always said the same thing: I was the older brother, so I had to give in to him.

But this time, I didn't want to give in anymore. I clenched my fist and put down Noveria Engineering University, the school I had always dreamed of attending.

The day after I turned in my college applications, my mother hired a car to take us to a church on the edge of the city to pray for blessings.

To make sure Cyrus could breathe easily, she had specifically chosen the roomiest seven-seat van available.

Cyrus had his own captain's chair in the middle row, with Maya beside him. Every so often, she checked his heart rate with a small device she always carried.

They put me in the very back row, with candles, fruits, and bottles of water piled around my feet. I sat crammed into the narrow space and watched the trees slide past the window. I had long since grown used to it.

Silverline Church sat at the top of 108 steep stone steps.

The moment we got out of the car, my father stacked two crates, each weighing over 30 pounds, and shoved them into my arms.

"You're strong. Carry them up. Watch your step, and don't damage the items inside."

I took the crates, and the rough cardboard edges immediately rubbed my palms raw.

The summer sun beat down on the stone path like fire.

Cyrus had climbed only a dozen or so steps before he started gasping for breath, his face pale.

My mother immediately told him to stop, sick with worry, while my father grabbed a fan and began fanning him.

Maya knew exactly what to do. She pulled a cold sports drink from her bag, twisted off the cap, and held it to Cyrus' lips.

"Cyrus, take a deep breath. Look at me. It's okay." Maya's voice was gentle and soothing.

I stood three steps behind them under the blazing sun, hauling a load that must have weighed 70 pounds. Sweat ran into my eyes and stung painfully, but I couldn't spare a hand to wipe it away.

It hadn't always been like this.

When I was seven, my father had carried me up these very steps on his broad shoulders.

He had smiled up at me and said, "Jasper, you're going to be a great engineer someday. Your old man has to lift you up high so you can see farther."

Then everything changed.

When I was nine, Cyrus and I were playing hide-and-seek in the alley. Some older boys, the neighborhood troublemakers, locked Cyrus inside an abandoned metal cabinet.

By the time I found an adult to break the lock and get him out, he had been trapped inside for five full hours.

After that, Cyrus developed severe claustrophobia. He couldn't go anywhere crowded or stay in tight spaces. The slightest trigger left him struggling to breathe.

That night, in the hallway outside the ER, my father slapped me hard across the face. My left ear rang for three days afterward.

"You're his brother! Why didn't you watch him? You've ruined your brother's whole life!"

From that day on, I became the guilty one in the family. Every moment of fear Cyrus suffered became another entry in the debt I owed.

Cyrus couldn't be startled, so no one in the house was allowed to make noise when they walked.

Cyrus was afraid of enclosed spaces, so no door in the house was ever allowed to be locked from the inside.

Even Maya, who had once promised me during our first year of high school that we would get into a university in Baronton together, had spent so much time caring for Cyrus that all her attention had gradually shifted to him.

After considerable effort, we finally reached the church entrance.

Just as I was about to set the crates down, my mother stopped me. "Jasper, you don't need to come in."

She frowned at my sweat-soaked face and dust-covered shirt. "You reek of sweat, and you're covered in grime. Don't disturb the purity of the church. Cyrus is finally doing a little better, so just wait outside."

Maya helped Cyrus step over the high threshold. She glanced back at me and said quietly, "Jasper, go rest in the shade. It's crowded in there, and Cyrus will get anxious."

"Okay."

That was all I said.

I watched my parents, my brother, and my girlfriend disappear inside, then slowly lowered the crates onto a stone pedestal outside the church hall.

Just then, my phone buzzed. A local day-labor broker had sent me a text.

[Southside Building Materials Market. Need two truckloads of tile unloaded. 400 dollars for the day. You in?]

I had 45 days left before I had to report to Noveria.

I was still 4,000 dollars short of what I needed for tuition and a ticket on a long-distance train. There was no chance my family would give me the money.

My father had already made that clear the night before.

"Since you're going to the local community college, you'll commute from home. Take out a student loan for the tuition. The money we save can go toward a new phone and computer for Cyrus."

At the thought of his words, I didn't hesitate.

[I'm in.]

I turned and started down the mountain.

From inside the main hall, the chanting drifted out, solemn and full of compassion. They were praying for Cyrus to have a bright and peaceful future.

As for the future that belonged to me, I would have to build it myself.