Not Your Replacement, Not Your Spare

"Garrett, why are you so determined to pay for it yourself?"

My sister, Cheryl Whitaker, reached over and stopped me just as I was about to pay with my card.

"There's nothing wrong with Reuben's old bedding. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" she questioned.

I calmly moved her hand aside and said, "If there's nothing wrong with it, then Reuben can take it to school. I'll pay for this charcoal-gray set myself. I won't use the family's money."

A beep sounded as the payment went through.

Cheryl froze for a moment, while Mom's expression immediately hardened.

"Why do you have to be so ungrateful? Reuben was only trying to save you money by giving his old bedding to you. And instead of appreciating it, you're standing here acting like everyone's treating you unfairly."

My younger brother, Reuben Whitaker, tugged on Mom's sleeve, his eyes already beginning to redden.

"Mom, don't be mad at Garrett. It's my fault. I shouldn't have had such a hard time letting him have the new set."

Phoebe Thorpe walked over and casually took the heavy shopping bag from Reuben's hand.

"Garrett, they're just sheets. Is this really worth making everyone upset over?" she asked.

I looked at the girl I'd grown up with, the same girl who had once promised that she would always take care of me.

I couldn't remember exactly when things had started to change, but somewhere along the way, all the attention and affection she once gave me had shifted to Reuben instead.

I picked up the bag containing my new bedding and said evenly, "I'm not making a scene. I just want a clean set of sheets."

Ignoring their displeased expressions, I turned and walked out of the store.

Phoebe drove us home.

Out of habit, I headed toward the passenger seat, but just as my hand reached the door handle, Cheryl caught my arm from behind.

"Garrett, sit in the back. Reuben gets carsick, so let him sit up front."

I paused and glanced at Reuben, who had one hand pressed against his chest as though he were already feeling sick.

But I distinctly remembered that on the way to the store, he had spent the entire trip sitting in the back with Mom, laughing and chatting as if nothing was wrong.

He had even played a game on his phone long enough to win a round.

Just then, Phoebe rolled down the window.

"Garrett, just sit in the back. There's more room back there anyway, and you can get some sleep on the way home."

I didn't argue. I pulled my hand away and opened the rear door.

Alas, the back seat was anything but spacious.

Cheryl, Mom, and I were crammed together, leaving me wedged into the corner by the window as my shoulder pressed against the door.

As the streetlights flickered past outside, my thoughts drifted back to seventh grade, when I had ranked first in the entire school.

I'd run home that day clutching a perfect test paper, convinced that Mom would finally praise me for doing well.

Instead, Reuben came down with a slight fever.

The entire family spent the night gathered around his bed, fussing over him.

My test paper was tossed onto the coffee table without a second glance, and by the next morning, Cheryl was using it as a placemat for a takeout pizza box.

After that, I started carefully managing my grades so that I only scored two or three points higher than Reuben.

At the time, I'd believed that if I stopped standing out and became just as ordinary as he was, maybe my parents would finally have enough attention left to spare some for me.

But I was wrong.

Some people could be given everything, and it still wouldn't make them care.

As soon as we arrived home, Mom busied herself in the kitchen. Before long, dinner was already waiting on the table.

Mom placed Reuben's favorite food onto his plate.

"Have some more, Reuben. Once you leave for school, you won't get to have my cooking whenever you want."

Cheryl picked out the most tender rib, carefully removed the bone, and added the meat to his plate as well.

"If you don't like the food at Norwell University, just call me. I'll order something and have it sent over," she offered.

Phoebe sat across from Reuben and smiled as she served him a bowl of stew.

"I work over there, so I know all the good restaurants around Norwell University. I'll take you out somewhere nice on the weekends."

The four of them laughed and talked together so naturally that, from the outside, they might have looked like a picture-perfect family.

I lowered my head and quietly ate the pea salad in front of me.

After dinner, I returned to my tiny bedroom, which had been converted from a storage room.

I pulled open the bottom drawer, where an official admissions packet from Jeston University lay inside.

The envelope was plain and formal, with the university crest and my name printed across the front.

Inside was my acceptance letter.