Chapter 4

Gerard pried the laptop out of my hands anyway.

Joan's interview had already begun. When the interviewer asked her to explain the creative process behind her graduation project, Ricky opened my documentary and pulled up the project statement beside it.

Joan read from the statement as if the words were hers. The text I'd painstakingly revised 17 times came out of her mouth as if the ideas were her own.

"Did you also handle all the filming and editing yourself?" the interviewer asked.

Joan fell silent. I thought she'd at least tell the truth, but instead, she glanced at Gerard, who gave her a reassuring nod.

"Yes," she answered, turning back to the camera. "Yes, I did all of it myself."

I dug my fingernails into my palm until it hurt.

When Ricky was 19 years old, he entered a short-video competition. His film was nowhere near finished as the deadline loomed, so I stayed up for two straight nights helping him finish it. His entry ended up winning an award.

When the host asked who he wanted to thank most, Ricky pulled Joan onto the stage with him and announced, "I want to thank her. She's always believed in me."

I sat in the audience and listened as everyone applauded them.

Later, Ricky told me that I'd never liked being in the spotlight anyway, so it didn't matter who went onstage.

Now, even my boyfriend and my own brother thought it didn't matter when someone took credit for my hard work.

Just then, an email from my new employer popped up on my phone.

"Please submit a digital copy of your degree certificate and the original project files by 5:30 pm for onboarding. Failure to do so will be treated as forfeiting your offer."

It was 5:08 pm. All the files were on my laptop.

I walked over to Gerard. "Give me my laptop back for ten minutes."

He shifted to block the screen. "Her interview isn't over yet."

"I need to submit some important documents." I couldn't say more without revealing that I was leaving.

"A little delay won't hurt." Gerard furrowed his brows.

"I can't miss the deadline."

Brandon glanced at his watch. "Joan only has one round left. Just wait."

I reached across the desk for the laptop, but Gerard grabbed my wrist to stop me. In the struggle, Joan knocked over a cup of hot water sitting at the edge of the table.

Scalding water splashed across the back of my hand and soaked the folder containing my diploma and the photo of Grandma and me that I kept tucked inside it.

I jerked my hand back in pain.

Joan quickly muted her microphone and tilted the camera away. Ricky immediately steadied the laptop. Brandon grabbed some tissues and began wiping Joan's skirt, while Gerard picked up the charger to check whether it had gotten wet.

Not one of them looked at my hand at first. My skin quickly reddened and began to blister.

Joan stood up, looking flustered. "Cynthia, are you okay?"

The interviewer called her name from the screen. She glanced at me once, then sat back down. "I'll take you to the campus clinic after my interview."

Brandon pushed me back. "Stay away from the laptop. What if you knock it over again?"

I bent down to pick up my folder. The cover of my diploma had gone soft from the hot water. Inside, the photo of me with Grandma had been soaked through, too.

Before Grandma died, she'd asked Brandon to look after me. He'd promised in front of everyone in the hospital room. "She's my only sister. If I don't look out for her, who will?"

Now, my hand was blistering, and all he cared about was Joan's interview.

I wasted another ten minutes arguing before I gave up and ran. At 5:27 pm, I rushed into the campus computer lab. Logging in required a verification code sent to my phone. By the time the text came through, I had only one minute left.

I uploaded every document I could find, but the original files for my final project were still on my laptop.

At 5:30 pm, the submission portal closed. One line of red text appeared on the screen. "The submission deadline has passed."

I stared blankly at the screen, my burned hand resting on the keyboard and throbbing with pain.

My phone buzzed. Ricky had sent me a screenshot showing that Joan had passed her interview.

"Let's celebrate tonight. Don't forget to buy a cake," he wrote.

Gerard messaged me a moment later. "I'm bringing the laptop back to your dorm tonight. Calm down. Don't take your anger over what happened today out on Joan."

I closed the browser, grabbed my suitcase from the locker where I'd stashed it that morning, and headed for the train station.

Before I boarded, the hiring manager sent me an email. "Your documents are incomplete. Please come to the office before 9:00 am tomorrow to submit the remaining materials. Otherwise, we'll offer the position to the next candidate."

I'd bought a ticket for the overnight train. It would get me there at 8:30 am. This time, there was nothing left worth staying for.

My roommate, Ruth Wagner, later told me that they'd returned to campus at 9:00 pm.

Gerard carried my laptop to the dorm to look for me. The moment he opened the door and saw my empty bed, he froze.

"Where's Cynthia? Is she pulling a disappearing act just to make us feel guilty?"

Ruth looked just as confused. "Cynthia accepted a job out of town and left hours ago. You didn't know?"