Chapter 4

In an instant, my heart was seized with a sharp pang again.

Terrified that my sisters would end up getting arrested and thrown into jail, I took a deep breath and set down my fork.

"Guys, could you stop doing that kind of work from now on? I'm an adult now. I'll get into a good college and take care of you all, so can you find a more stable job?"

Martina, Chiara, and Valentina all froze at the same time. Then, feeling deeply moved, they broke down in each other's arms and agreed through their tears.

Two hours later, after giving me a few more reminders, they left three black bank cards behind and hurried out the door.

I stood in the doorway, watching them disappear into the stairwell, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"Remember to switch jobs, okay?"

"We know!"

But the moment the door clicked shut, Martina turned to the others with a puzzled look.

"That's so weird. Do you think Dante doesn't like that I'm developing nuclear submarines?"

Chiara and Valentina were equally baffled.

Meanwhile, I closed the door and glanced at my phone. The family group chat, "One Big Loving Family", had already blown past 99 messages.

My sisters were asking, "Dante, are you tired from studying today?"

"Do you have enough money to spend? Don't hold back. We've got plenty."

Tears threatened to well up once more. I sniffled and ultimately typed out, "I'm fine. Please don't worry. I know you're all swamped with work, but remember to stay safe too."

Then, I sent it.

A moment later, as I watched the screen flood with messages of concern, I made up my mind—I absolutely could not cause my sisters any more trouble.

I told myself that I just had to endure it until the SAT was over, and then everything would be alright.

At Monday's flag-raising ceremony, the crowd below was a dense sea of heads shifting restlessly. I knelt on the ground and mechanically confessed my wrongdoing.

"It was out of resentment that I pushed Giovanni down the stairs. I was jealous of him. I am a worthless piece of trash."

My voice echoed across the field, each word feeling like a knife slicing through my throat.

Pushed to the front in his wheelchair by a few classmates, Giovanni looked on smugly as I knelt there apologizing, his eyes alight with sheer exhilaration.

Below, the whispers merged into a buzzing hum.

"I heard that Dante's family is dirt poor, and he's here on financial aid."

"How spiteful of him. He's just jealous that Giovanni's rich."

"Look at that pathetic loser. He deserves it."

"What do you expect from someone whose mother wasn't around to raise him?"

Every cruel word cut deep, right down to the bone. But I'd already gone numb.

As I wrapped up my apology, I slowly started slapping myself.

The first slap left my cheek with a sharp sting.

I slapped myself 50 times, then 100 more. With each one, my cheek went from numb to searing pain.

Blood trickled down from my lips.

When the confession was over, I walked off the stage, my cheeks swollen and red.

The crowd parted before me as though I were the plague.

Giovanni, surrounded by his lackeys, deliberately brushed past me.

In a voice perfectly loud enough for me to hear, he said, "Some people are just born poor. You think a simple apology is enough? From now on, when you see me, address me as 'sir'. Understand?"

I clenched my fists until my nails dug deep into my flesh.

Instead of replying, I quietly walked back to my seat. There, I pulled out a wet wipe and scrubbed hard at the red words painted on my desk.

But the paint had already seeped into the grain of the wood. The more I scrubbed, the more it smeared, like one ugly scar after another.

All day long, I was surrounded by malice. The moment the final bell rang, I could no longer take it and fled the room.