Chapter 2

My pen tore through the paper.

Neville glanced over, annoyed. "Forget it. I'll get the answers from a friend tomorrow. She's useless like this."

I stood up, scattering the sheets.

Otis scowled. "What are you doing?"

"I've got late-stage cancer," I croaked, forcing out each word.

...

Colette's hand froze mid-air, while Otis's frown deepened.

Neville scoffed, "Faking it to skip my homework? Pathetic."

I pulled out the diagnosis and placed it on the table. The stamped report, bearing the doctor's signature, was laid out clearly before their eyes.

Colette muttered in disbelief, "How could it be?"

Neville snorted, "That's obviously a fake. My buddy uses those to skip school all the time."

Otis rushed over and slapped me across the face. "Now you're buying fake medical records? What did we teach you?"

I crouched down, picking up the scattered sheets one by one. Blood dripped from my nose, staining the paper.

Neville kicked my shoulder. "Hurry up. I need to sleep."

I kept picking, blood still oozing from my hand.

Otis frowned at the mess. "So weak. David worked with a broken hand and never complained."

Colette came out of the kitchen, hesitating at the sight of my bloody hand. "Need a Band-Aid?"

I shook my head. "No."

Otis smirked. "Guilt-tripping? David never complained over a scratch."

I nodded. "Yeah, he wouldn't."

My voice, barely audible, was laced with bitter self-mockery.

Neville yawned. "I'm out. Answers on my desk by eight tomorrow."

I clutched my stomach, sinking to the floor.

Otis glanced at me. "Get some rest. You've got work tomorrow."

Colette turned off the light. "Don't stay up too late. Electricity's not cheap."

They left me alone in the dark, and the pain in my stomach surged like a tidal wave.

My phone rang. It was the hospital.

"Ms. Gordon, you need to be admitted immediately, or..."

I hung up without a word.

I wasn't without hope. I just knew where it came from and where it broke.

Getting up, I walked to Neville's room.

The door wasn't locked.

I pushed it open and found him fast asleep on the bed. A fashionable new phone lay by his pillow.

I'd worked at that store, knowing the phone cost over ten grand.

There was no way he could afford it. Our family pinched every penny.

I picked up the phone, a message glowing on the screen. [Got the competition answers. 50 grand.]

My hands shook.

They spent 50 grand on the answers but would not spare a few bucks for my painkillers.

I put the phone down and left.

From my parents' room, I heard hushed voices.

"Lenora is looking rough. Could she really be sick?" Colette's voice wavered.

Otis brushed it off. "Kids get sick. Remember when David was little?"

I pushed open the door and saw stacks of cash on the bed, glowing under the dim lamp.

And my parents were counting them.

Colette quickly covered them with a blanket. "Lenora, why aren't you asleep?"

I stared at the blanket, laughing mockingly and bitterly.