Chapter 4

When I got back to school, the hallway suddenly went quiet.

“That’s her.”

“She doesn’t even want her own parents.”

“She actually pays people to go to parent-teacher conferences for her.”

Someone brushed past my shoulder and gave a low laugh.

“Heartless.”

I kept my head down and hugged Grandma’s tape recorder tighter against my chest.

When I got back to my seat, my textbook was lying open on my desk.

Someone had written across the cover in thick black marker:

'UNGRATEFUL BRAT'

The ink had already bled through the paper.

I tried an eraser.

It didn’t work.

Then I scraped at the words with my fingernail.

The paper slowly began to fray.

Someone behind me laughed.

“Why bother? It’s true.”

“What’s the point of getting good grades if you treat your parents like that?”

My hand stopped.

Black ink stained my fingertips.

Before first period even started, my advisor called me into her office.

A notice was sitting on her desk.

“The school has decided to withdraw your early-admission nomination.”

I stood there for so long that my legs slowly went numb.

“Why?”

She lowered her eyes.

“Your parents have continued to object. There are also issues with the guardian paperwork.

“The school doesn’t want to take the risk.”

The door hadn’t closed completely.

Word spread almost immediately.

“They canceled it?”

“Serves her right.”

“Someone like her would just embarrass the school anyway.”

I stared at the principal’s signature at the bottom of the notice.

My vision slowly blurred.

I had spent three years barely sleeping before midnight for this opportunity.

The day I ran a fever during an academic competition, I threw up and went right back in to finish.

The day after Grandma died, I still showed up for my exams.

I had always believed that if I just worked a little harder,

did a little better,

eventually it would earn me something.

But in the end,

one accusation of being an ungrateful daughter was enough to erase all of it.

I folded the notice carefully.

The edge of the paper sliced my fingertip.

A bead of blood appeared.

I pressed my thumb down hard over it.

My advisor caught my hand.

“Do you want to appeal?”

I looked at her reddened eyes.

My throat closed up.

After a long moment, I shook my head.

“I’m just tired.”

That day, I stayed in the classroom until it was dark outside.

The final bell had rung long before I realized everyone else was gone.

When I got home that night, the living room was empty.

A half-eaten cake Nina had left behind sat on the table.

There was a note from Mom on the fridge.

'Don’t wait up. We’ll be late. We’re at Nina’s celebration dinner.'

No one asked about my admission.

No one asked whether Grandma’s tape recorder had been fixed.

I stood there for a long time.

Then I went to my room and opened my closet.

The diamond necklace from my fifteenth birthday.

The designer bag from my sixteenth.

The watch they had given me after middle school graduation.

And a pair of heels I had never worn.

Every single thing had been expensive.

But not once had my parents been there when they gave them to me.

All I ever got was a message from their assistant.

'Mr. and Mrs. Hayes are busy with work. Happy birthday, Miss Hayes.'

I used to hate even opening the boxes.

Some part of me thought that if I kept the gifts untouched,

maybe the love behind them would last longer too.

The next morning,

I took everything to a pawn shop.

The owner appraised each item one by one.

When he finished, he looked at me.

“You’re selling all of it?"

“Yes.”

“Something happen at home?”

I stared at the jewelry behind the glass.

My lips moved several times before I managed to answer.

“I don’t have a home anymore.”

Once the money hit my account, I sat outside the bank and started submitting applications to universities overseas.

A few days later, an acceptance email appeared on my phone.

I read it three times.

I didn’t smile.

I just pressed the phone against my chest and slowly bent forward.

Tears fell one by one onto my shoes.

There was still somewhere willing to take me.

I booked the earliest flight I could.

I packed only my documents, a few clothes, and a photograph of Grandma.

I left behind every single thing my parents had ever given me.

Before I left, I placed my family-time card on the dining table.

Beside it, I left the receipt from the pawn shop.

Twelve years of birthday gifts had paid for my way out.

At the airport, my phone rang.

Mom.

The screen stayed lit for a long time.

I held the phone in my hand, my palm slick with sweat.

For one moment,

I still wanted to answer.

I wanted to hear her ask just one thing.

“Where are you?”

But the ringing stopped.

She didn’t call again.

I looked down and turned off my phone.

Then I pulled my suitcase through the gate.

Behind me,

no one called my name.