Chapter 2

At 6:00 am, Mom woke me up, but not for breakfast. She said, "Luna's soup is simmering on the stove. Keep an eye on it so it doesn't boil over."

I sleepily rubbed my eyes as I stood by the stove, stirring the soup with a spoon.

Mom had prepared the ingredients last night and got up at 5:00 am to start cooking it.

Luna didn't come out until 9:00 am.

By then, the table had been neatly set with the soup, poached eggs, warm milk, and a plate of sausages.

Mom emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate. "Luna, come eat while it's hot."

As for me, I leaned against the stove and chewed on a piece of bread.

After breakfast, I put the printed informed consent form into a folder. In black and white, it stated, "No contact with the outside world for the duration of the project, for a minimum of 24 months."

I took it to my dad, Dean Pratt, for his signature.

He was sitting at the computer in his study. On the screen was a chart comparing graduate programs for Luna, with half the thing covered in colorful notes.

I handed him the paper, and Dad took the pen without looking away from the screen, scribbling his signature across it. Then he pushed the paper toward the edge. It nearly slid off the desk.

I bent down to pick it up and went to find Mom.

She was crouched by Luna's feet, measuring them for a new pair of shoes.

I held out the form.

Mom took the pen with her right hand while holding the tape measure in her left, then scrawled her signature across the page. The pen tip jabbed into the paper, leaving a little blot of ink right over the words "no contact".

I stood there, holding the paper. Mom looked up at me and asked, "What are you still standing there for? There's a sink full of dishes. Go wash them."

I turned and walked into the kitchen. While I was washing the dishes, Bobby texted, "Has everyone in your family read the consent form? Do they agree?"

I dried my hands and replied, "They've all signed it."

If they signed it, it meant they agreed.

That night, my uncle, Daniel Kerr, and his family came over for dinner. When his wife, Susie Huntington, saw me, she paused. "Oh, my God. Leon, what happened to you? You've gotten so skinny. You look awful, like you've been doing manual labor. Don't your parents feed you well?"

Mom came out of the kitchen with a dish and casually said, "He's always been like that. He eats plenty but never puts on weight. He takes after his grandpa. There's nothing we can do about it."

When I was seven, I followed Grandpa around the countryside, doing backbreaking work. Then when I came back to the city at ten, I started washing dishes, mopping floors, and scrubbing pots.

For more than ten years, no one cared whether I was full or warm. They brushed it all off with one sentence. "He's always been like that."

At the table, Aunt Susie praised Luna for studying finance at a top university and having such a promising future. Then she turned to me and asked, "Where do you go to school? What are you studying?"

"I go to school in Berton. I study aerospace propulsion—"

Mom cut in, saying, "It's something about building rockets. He's always working on that impractical stuff. Who knows if he'll even make any money from it?"

I tried again. "Our program received a national—"

Dad set his wineglass down heavily on the table. "Alright, enough. Just eat your food. Stop showing off. Luna hasn't even said anything."

The table fell silent for two seconds.

Aunt Susie tried to smooth things over by putting food in Luna's bowl, and Mom followed suit. Then, without thinking, Mom scooped a few peanuts into my bowl.

I was allergic to peanuts. Whenever I ate them, I'd break out in hives. The itching would keep me up all night.

I said, "Mom, I'm allergic to peanuts."

Mom didn't even pause. "You're a grown man. Why are you still so fussy? How can one person have so many problems?"

Luna muttered, "Just don't eat them then."

I didn't repeat myself.

Mom remembered Luna's dislike of cilantro and that her yogurt had to be kept refrigerated. She also remembered that Aunt Susie couldn't have spicy food.

Yet, she thought nothing of my allergy.

When Aunt Susie was about to leave, she pulled out some money and gave it to Luna. Then she looked at me and started reaching into her pocket.

But Mom smiled and stopped her. "He's already a junior in college. We don't do this anymore. He can earn his money. Let Luna have it. Girls need to have some extra money on them when they're out."

I stayed where I was at the table and watched Luna happily tuck the money into her pocket.

No one wanted to hear about my program that accepted only 30 students nationwide.

No one wanted to see a national scholarship award.

Even the money wasn't meant for me.