Chapter 4

The temperature steadily climbed under the blazing sun.

The students on campus all stopped lingering outdoors and ran back to their dorms.

A putrid stench gradually emanated from my body, attracting several of the campus' stray cats.

My body lay there, unable to run or call for help.

I could only watch helplessly as they gnawed and tore at my flesh.

It truly hurt.

My soul drifted desperately toward Dad's office, only to find him and Ms. Ritter chatting happily together.

Ms. Ritter was flipping through Dad's notebook with wonder in her eyes, her face full of admiration.

"Wow, Mr. Bradshaw, are all these the nutritious meals you made for Ronnie? It must have taken you years to fill this notebook, right?"

I looked at the notebook in her hands, my eyes instantly prickling with tears.

Dad had been keeping it since the day I was born. He always said that as long as he followed the notes in this book, I would grow up healthy and strong.

Dad stared at those thick, well-worn notebooks, his gaze flickering for a moment.

He looked at the yellowed pages as if reminiscing about something.

After a long pause, he sighed and gently ruffled Ms. Ritter's hair.

"If only Ronnie were half as sensible as you are."

Just then, Mr. Poole hurried into the office.

"Mr. Bradshaw, is Ronnie still lying outside? It's 95 degrees Fahrenheit out there. I heard Ronnie is poor in health—what if he gets heatstroke? That would be serious trouble."

Dad paused mid-motion on Ms. Ritter's head, then replied with utter indifference.

"Given how pampered Ronnie is, there's no way he could even bear to let himself suffer in the sun. Mr. Poole, I know my own son. He's just sulking on purpose. The more I pay attention to him, the more he acts up.

"Once he's had enough of lying there and feels it's pointless, he'll get up on his own."

Mr. Poole shook his head, then sighed and walked out of the office.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

For a fleeting moment, Dad looked relieved. But when he saw the students who entered, a faint disappointment flickered across his face.

I knew he was waiting for me. However, he would never see me come.

Those students had come to pick up their scholarship certificate and state competition award certificates.

With a smile, Dad took the certificates out of the drawer and encouraged them to keep working hard in the future.

The students exchanged glances, guilt flashing across their eyes.

"Mr. Bradshaw, we're the ones who should be thanking Ronnie. He's the one who stepped aside and gave us this opportunity."

Dad's smile froze.

It was as if the air itself had solidified.

I watched his suddenly rigid expression and gave a bitter, self-mocking smile.

All along, he had believed that keeping me at arm's length was the same as being fair.

But now, everyone knew those honors were mine, that I had given them away. Meanwhile, he had become the man who took my honors and used them to bolster his own image, all in the name of upholding fairness.

Dad's expression turned icy, and his tone was laced with disdain.

"There's no need to thank him. He didn't win fair and square to begin with. He secretly went through my computer to get first place. You are the ones who truly deserve it."

The students looked deeply embarrassed. They quickly took their certificates and left the office.

I felt as if I had been viciously stabbed in the heart.

There was another knock at the office door.

Ms. Ritter's eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction.

"Mr. Bradshaw, that must be Ronnie coming to make peace with you."

Dad cleared his throat, and with the poise of a victor, said, "Weren't you acting all tough lying on the ground earlier? And now you've finally come to admit you were wrong? Ronnie, if you truly know you were in the wrong, then you'll apologize to Ms. Ritter tomorrow in front of the entire school.

"After that, you'll write a five-thousand-word self-criticism about how you played dead and disregarded our collective honor and post it on the bulletin board. Otherwise, don't bother calling me your father anymore."

The knocking continued, more urgent than before.

Dad rose impatiently and pulled the door open.

The moment the door opened, his entire body stiffened.

Two uniformed police officers stood at the doorway, their expressions solemn.

"Are you Ronnie Bradshaw's father?"

Dad froze for a second, then a flicker of impatience crossed his eyes.

"Yes, I am. What kind of trouble has he stirred up now? Did someone report him for refusing to get off the ground?"

The lead officer didn't respond to his questions. Instead, he just stared at Dad grimly and said, "Ronnie's already dead. I'm so sorry for your loss."