Chapter 3

At Senior Family Day, I was the only student whose parents didn't show up.

Two of my classmates had parents working several states away.

Both families still managed to send someone.

Mine were less than a quarter mile from the auditorium.

They were helping Quinn set up her new dorm room at Ashgrove.

Neither of them could spare twenty minutes for me.

My turn was getting close when I suddenly saw Mom and Dad walking toward the ceremony with sour expressions.

The mother of a girl I'd known since elementary school waved at me.

"Gwen! Your parents went to the wrong building. They were just a little late."

I almost laughed.

They hadn't gotten lost.

They'd run into someone who knew us and realized how bad it would look if they didn't come.

So they let themselves be steered over.

Mom folded her arms.

"How long does this thing take? Quinn's waiting for me to bring her lunch."

Dad looked completely detached.

"When they call Gwen, you walk the senior arch with her. She's yours this year."

Mom glanced at the decorated arch at the front of the gym, where students were stopping for photos with their families.

Her face tightened.

"I'm not doing that. Everyone will be staring. It's mortifying.

"You do it."

Dad refused immediately.

"I'm not putting on a show for a room full of strangers."

They lowered their voices and started arguing.

Neither of them noticed when my name was called.

I didn't ask either of them to stop.

I simply walked past them.

Alone, I crossed beneath the senior arch.

If Quinn had been the one who needed a parent beside her, would they have behaved like this?

Of course not.

My best friend Nora was waiting on the other side.

When I told her what had happened, she looked furious and confused.

She couldn't understand why my parents favored Quinn so completely.

I could.

Or at least, I had finally stopped trying to understand.

"For a long time, I thought there had to be something wrong with me," I said.

"So I became number one in my class. I stopped asking for snacks, toys, anything extra. I learned to cook, clean, do laundry — all of it.

"I turned into the kid every adult called mature and easy.

"And nothing changed."

I looked back at Mom and Dad, still arguing behind the crowd.

"That's when I understood. Favoritism doesn't need a reason.

"There's no version of me good enough to earn my way out of it."

Nora squeezed my hand.

I smiled faintly.

"So I'm done trying to change them.

"From now on, I'll just live like..."

I paused.

"Like I'm an orphan."