Left Behind so My Brother Could Be Happy

Nathan's POV

"Nathan, what are you just standing there for?"

My sister, Michelle McCreery, called from the doorway, impatience plain in her voice. She leaned against the doorframe with one hand.

"Ozzy's health isn't great. He can't be exposed to the sea breeze on this trip. I can't find that black windbreaker of yours in your suitcase. I looked for ages. Where did you put it?"

I stood there, looking at her matter-of-fact expression. I had saved up my living expenses for a whole month just to buy that windbreaker.

"It's all the way at the bottom," I answered quietly.

Michelle nodded before turning to leave, but stopped halfway out the door.

"While we're out on our vacation these next few days, do a deep clean of the whole house, especially Oscar's room. He's allergic to dust."

She didn't even bother hiding the contempt in her voice. It was as if I wasn't even her brother, but merely the family's unpaid, live-in help.

Mom stepped out of the bedroom holding Oscar's sun shirt.

"Your sister's right, Nate. It's not like you have anything else to do anyway, with your college entrance exam scores being what they are. Give the whole house a thorough cleaning while we're gone."

After a pause, she added, "Oh, and don't forget to start simmering the chicken broth ahead of time. That way, when Oscar gets back, he can have something nourishing to build his strength back up."

I looked at her without arguing.

"Okay," I said, nodding.

Dad was already urging everyone to hurry.

Celia Ruginis was the last one out. She was wearing a long white dress with her long hair draped over her shoulders.

Previously, whenever I felt wronged, she'd always be the first to stand up for me. But now, she just stopped in front of me and lowered her voice.

"Nate, don't be upset. Be the bigger person. You know how stressed Ozzy was over his exams lately. He couldn't sleep through the night at all. This beach trip is mostly to help him relax."

She reached out, seemingly wanting to hold my hand like before, but I shifted slightly and avoided her touch.

Her hand froze midair, and a flash of annoyance crossed her eyes.

"When we get the chance later, I'll take you on a trip. Just the two of us. You've always been so mature. Just be more understanding of everyone this time, okay?"

Mature. That word had been my cage for the past 18 years.

I met her eyes and answered calmly, "Got it. Have a safe trip."

Celia looked a little surprised, but she didn't think more of it. She simply nodded and said, "Be good and wait for us at home."

Then, the front door slammed, and the entryway fell dead quiet.

I stood there for a long time, so long that my legs started to go numb.

Suddenly, my phone lit up. It was the airline's final boarding reminder. I unlocked the screen, pulled up the reservation page, and canceled the ticket.

After the cancellation fee, the refund was almost laughable. But I didn't care anymore.

I walked into the living room and looked at the itinerary scattered across the coffee table. I had stayed up night after night doing research just to put it all together. They clearly marked Celia's favorite seafood restaurant, Mom's favorite photo spots, and Dad's preferred deep-sea fishing areas. I had even noted the windy areas Oscar needed to avoid.

I picked up the pages, tore them into tiny pieces, and dropped them into the trash. Then I turned and went back to my room.

My room was tiny. Originally a storage room, it later became my bedroom after I was brought back to the city.

It didn't even have a proper desk inside.

I dragged a battered cardboard box out from under the bed and started packing my things.

That was when my phone buzzed with a message from my homeroom teacher, Paul Keeland.

"Nathan, your application for the full scholarship has been approved. The university requires a guardian's signature on the confirmation form. When are you free to drop by the school?"

I stared at the words on the screen, my fingers tightening around the phone.

"I'll come tomorrow, Mr. Keeland."

After sending the reply, I tossed my phone onto the bed. My eyes landed on a framed photo sitting in the corner of the makeshift desk.

That was a photo of Celia and me on her 18th birthday. In it, she was smiling brightly, and I was looking at her with my eyes full of light.

I picked up the frame, slipped the photo out, and threw it into the trash along with the shredded itinerary.