Chapter 2

Early the next morning, I was jolted awake by a phone call. "Mom" flashed on the screen.

When I answered, her voice sounded especially upbeat.

"Miles, we just arrived in Roverton. Come pick us up at the South Station exit."

I blinked. Roverton was where my college was located, but my parents had never mentioned coming to visit.

Before I could even ask why they were here, she hung up. Left with no choice, I quickly washed up and headed out the door.

When I arrived at the station, the exit was bustling with people. I spotted Mom standing next to their suitcases, while Dad crouched nearby, smoking a cigarette.

I quickly took their bags. "Why did you guys come all of a sudden?"

Mom naturally handed over everything she was holding.

"It's all because of those two troublesome siblings of yours! They called yesterday, crying about how much they missed home. Your dad and I figured we might as well rent an apartment and move here instead of commuting back and forth all the time."

I wanted to say something, but in the end, I just carried their things and kept walking.

We caught a taxi to our destination—a nice, relatively upscale apartment complex. It was a bright three-bedroom apartment with a spacious living room.

Mom pushed open the door, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Sam said he wanted a place close to a shopping mall. It took me days to find this place."

She walked right into the room next to the main bedroom, dragged her suitcase inside, and started unpacking clothes.

A half-built Lego set was already lying out on the rug. It was Sam's favorite.

The door to the room next to it was open. Inside, I could see a display cabinet with two ball-jointed dolls. They wore little dresses and had intricately braided hair, bought from the exact shop my younger sister, Jill Martinez, always frequented.

I stood in the middle of the living room, holding my one and only backpack, watching Mom dash back and forth between the two rooms. One minute she was placing a desk lamp in one room, and the next she was tossing a throw pillow into the other.

I looked around the apartment until I finally spotted a door off to the side. The space looked small, likely intended to be for a study.

With the last bit of hope I had left, I pushed open the door.

Inside sat two gaming desks and chairs—one pink, one blue—with phone mounts clipped onto the backs of the chairs.

My nose stung. I gripped the straps of my backpack tightly, my voice trembling as I asked, "Mom, where am I supposed to sleep?"

Mom was crouched on the floor sorting Lego pieces for Sam.

"Your siblings each chipped in 120 dollars from their Christmas money to earn the right to live here. You didn't pay a dime, so of course there's no space for you. And don't you have a dorm room? Once you're done carrying the bags inside, you should hurry back to campus. Don't miss your classes."

I stood in the hallway, feeling as though I'd been struck in the chest by a sledgehammer.

I hadn't heard the term "Christmas money" in a very long time. In our family, our relatives would often send us cash in lieu of presents on Christmas. And growing up, that was the only time I ever had money of my own. I'd stare at the cash, feeling like that was the only money I was allowed to decide how to spend.

But every year, right after I received the Christmas money, Mom and Dad would start sighing around me, seemingly without meaning to.

"Things have been so tight lately. We can barely even afford groceries."

Then Sam would run out to help buy a pack of bread, while Jill would pour Dad a glass of water. And I would be the only one left standing there, still clutching my money.

After struggling with myself for a long time, I'd eventually hand it over to them.

"Mom, Dad, I don't need that much money anyway. You can take my Christmas money for now. You'll need it to give gifts back to everyone anyway."

Every single year, I'd hand it over. And every single year, I'd receive a "You're very understanding, Miles."

Back then, I thought being understanding was the ultimate praise.

Now, all of that money I'd willingly handed over had become another reason this family could push me aside.

I didn't say anything else. I just turned around and walked out the front door.

Once I got outside, I received a text from Professor Lindell.

"Miles, your scholarship funds have been deposited. Come with me later today to withdraw the cash."