Chapter 2

I tossed my phone onto the bed and ran both my hands through my hair, ruining the careful style I had spent so long fixing.

It had always been like that.

Whenever we played hide-and-seek as kids, I was always appointed as the seeker.

Ann and Jeff would hide together, hand in hand, inside the bright, spacious walk-in closet in my parents' bedroom, while I was left alone in the dark attic, counting.

By the time I finished counting to a hundred and opened my eyes, I would search every room in the house but never find them.

Later, I would find out they had already slipped downstairs without me to buy ice cream at the corner store.

Growing up had not changed anything.

I pulled open a drawer and took out an old photo album, its pages yellowed with age.

In the first few photos, I was not even two years old. Dad was holding me high in his arms, and Mom was kissing my cheek. Ann stood beside us, making funny faces to make me laugh.

I remembered something a relative had said during New Year’s a long time ago.

"Henry, you have no idea how protective your sister used to be.

"I was only joking that you looked a little too chubby, but she scolded me for days."

Back then...

They had cared about me.

However, after Jeff was born, I became invisible.

He was handsome, with delicate features that made the difference between us impossible to ignore. Whenever relatives came over, they always said the same thing.

"Jeff is so handsome. He looks like a young movie star."

Then they would turn to me and force out the same awkward compliment.

"Henry seems like such a good, honest kid."

Honest. Mature. Never the type to compete for attention. Those were the labels they had pinned on me, and over the years, they had become a cage that kept me trapped for eighteen years.

A sharp knock at the door pulled me back to the present. I closed the photo album and went to answer it.

Whitney Jones stood outside with a bright smile. Her high ponytail swayed as she lifted a pair of shoe boxes.

"Henry, guess what I brought!" She held them up proudly. "I got the newest basketball shoes for both you and Jeff!"

My eyes drifted down.

Through the small, clear window on the side of the boxes, I could see two identical pairs of high-top basketball shoes.

"Thanks."

I did not reach for them. I simply looked at her.

"Come on, take them. I even bought your size." She pushed one of the boxes into my arms before walking into the living room as if she belonged there.

"Where's Jeff? I sent him a message, but he hasn't replied."

"They all went out to buy him a gift." I set the heavy shoe box on the coffee table.

Whitney blinked, then smiled. "Oh, they're shopping. That explains it. Why didn't you go? Let me guess. You were hiding at home playing video games again."

She said it so casually, as if it were the most obvious explanation.

I looked down at the basketball shoes, built for explosive jumps and quick cuts. The old scar on my right knee began to ache.

Three years ago, during our class basketball tournament, I had been sitting alone at the far end of the bleachers.

Whitney had jogged over halfway through the game and handed me a bottle of ice water.

"Henry, you're up in the second half! Good luck!"

I had shaken my head. "My knee's injured. I don't play."

She had stared at me in surprise before sitting down beside me. "That's actually pretty rare. Most guys our age can't sit still. You'd rather read than run around. You're different."

After that day, every gift she gave me was either a rare edition of a book or a beautifully made set of bookmarks.

Whenever we spent weekends together, she always assumed we would end up at the library.

However, in just three years, she had forgotten all of it.

Now, the only person she saw was Jeff, the boy who loved running across the basketball court while soaking up everyone's cheers.

The first time Whitney came to my house, during our freshman year of high school, Jeff had just come home. He was carrying a basketball.

After we walked downstairs, she blurted out without thinking, "Your brother looks so cool when he plays basketball. He's so energetic and full of life, unlike you. You're always so lifeless.

"No wonder you're always saying your sister favors him. If I were her, I'd—"

Back then, I thought she was only joking. It was not until later that I realized the joke had been the truth all along, quietly shaping every choice she had made over the past three years.

"What are you staring at? Try them on and see if they fit."

Whitney dropped onto the couch and casually urged me on when she noticed I was still looking at the shoe box.

"Sure." I opened the box, took out the brightly colored sneakers, and slipped them on.

The high tops wrapped tightly around my ankles, so tightly that even the old injury buried deep inside my knee began to throb.

The pain spread until my leg felt numb.

"Oh, by the way, which colleges are you applying to?" Whitney asked, not looking up.

She was tapping away on her phone, probably texting Jeff, a smile lingering on her face.

"Jeff said he wants to major in finance, so I've been helping him look at colleges.

"What about you? I heard you'll probably end up at a community college. Well, at least Northbridge has a few decent ones.

"The four of us will still be living in the same city. We can go out for good food on the weekends."

I walked to the coffee table and opened my old laptop. The college application portal was still open. Every school on my list was located in Northbridge.

Now, as I looked at them, each one felt like a quiet mockery.

I moved the mouse.

Delete.

Redwood University.

Delete.

Ashcroft University.

Delete.

Kingsley University.

When the search box for my first-choice school appeared, I calmly typed two words.

[Seabreeze University.]

It was nearly a thousand miles from Northbridge.

I clicked ‘save’, then ‘submit’.

Whitney locked her phone, looked up at me, and asked casually, "So, which school in Northbridge are you applying to?"

I closed my laptop, turned to face her, and answered calmly, "Doesn't matter."