Chapter 1

I could still feel the warm sensation spreading across my palm, along with the faint smell of the scented sachet. I looked down at the SAT admission ticket that Dad forced into my hand—the very one that I thought I had lost.

I noticed that its edges had been worn down by constant handling, making it obvious it hadn't just been found under the couch.

Dad didn't even spare me a single glance. He picked up a piece of soft, slow-cooked rib and placed it on my twin brother, Henry Simpson's, plate. He then said, "You should eat up, Henry. You've worked hard on the SAT, so I've made these ribs especially for you."

I had never heard him use such a gentle and affectionate tone with me before.

Henry sat across from me, wearing newly bought streetwear. He wore a new watch on his wrist, his eyes crinkling as he gave a bright, sunny smile. He picked up his cutlery, took a gentle bite of the rib, and exclaimed happily, "Thanks, Dad! You're the absolute best!"

He looked up at me with a concerned expression before stating casually, as if what he was saying was perfectly reasonable. "You shouldn't let it get to you, Gavin. It doesn't really matter if you don't take the SAT now.

"You can just repeat your senior year and try again after that. I'm sure you'll definitely get admitted into a university next year, Gavin."

Mom placed a piece of braised pork belly onto my plate before I could even say anything. "That's enough now, Gavin. It's not like we're not letting you repeat the year to retake the SAT. Who are you pulling that long face for?"

I looked at the braised pork belly that was coated in a layer of oil. It was prepared the way Henry liked it, heavy on the fat and light on the lean meat. It was so greasy that it made me feel nauseated.

Mom's voice carried a note of impatience. "You only have yourself to blame for not taking care of your admission ticket, Gavin. You're the one who was being careless here. You're not a child anymore, yet you still made this kind of mistake over something as important as the SAT.

"It would be so embarrassing if people found out about it."

Their accusations fell on me one after another, without the slightest mercy.

I looked at the braised pork belly on my plate, which smelled rich and greasy, and I felt sick to the stomach. I couldn't help but wonder if I were to blame for this whole thing.

I made sure to carefully tuck my admission ticket into the innermost pocket of my pencil case on the night before the SAT. I even checked three times to ensure I had everything before going to sleep. I woke up the following morning to find my pencil case empty and the admission ticket nowhere to be found.

I felt my heart sink at that moment. I even started to blame myself for being so careless.

If I hadn't qualified for guaranteed admission, missing the SAT because of such a careless mistake would have cost me my future.

I held the admission ticket that smelled like my parents' wardrobe, and every bit of self-blame and guilt melted away, leaving only a bitter resentment. I hadn't been careless, and I hadn't misplaced the admission ticket. Dad had personally hidden my admission ticket and ruined my chance to take the SAT.