They Sacrificed Me to Avoid Favoritism

The paramedic hurried after my dad. "Mr. Mendoza, the red wristband has nothing to do with who her family is. Her blood pressure and oxygen levels are dangerously low. She needs to be taken to the hospital now."

My dad glanced around at the crowd.

Dozens of phones were pointed at him, recording everything.

Instead of changing his mind, he hardened his expression. "That's exactly why I can't make an exception for my own daughter. Everyone is watching."

Then he motioned for the EMTs to move on.

The doors of the first ambulance slammed shut right in front of me. Inside were three students who could still walk on their own.

Lola sat near the doors and looked out at me, clearly worried. "Mr. Mendoza, maybe Selena should go first. She looks really sick."

My dad gave her an approving look. "You're hurting too, and you're still thinking about someone else."

Then, he turned to the paramedics. "Someone as considerate as Lola shouldn't be pushed aside just because Selena happens to be my daughter."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd.

My mom helped me over to a plastic chair under a tree. She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead.

"No fever. You're conscious and know where you are." She frowned at me. "Does that look like someone who's dying?"

Panic surged through me.

I pointed at my throat, then raised one trembling finger and tried to write "EpiPen" in the air.

My mom froze.

She knew exactly what I meant.

My EpiPen was usually kept in the nurse's emergency cabinet, clearly labeled with my name and allergy information.

But before Parents' Day, she had moved it to her office.

She said that if the other parents saw the school keeping medicine just for the principal's daughter, they might think I was getting special treatment.

I grabbed her sleeve and pointed desperately toward the administration building.

She knew what I wanted, but she did not move.

"There are dozens of students waiting for emergency care right now. What do you think people will say if I leave everyone else just to get your medication?"

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Selena, you're seventeen. You're old enough to understand that sometimes you have to think about the bigger picture."

My vision blurred, and I slipped from the chair.

Before I could hit the ground, someone caught me. The sharp smell of antiseptic clung to his white coat.

For one desperate second, hope rushed through me.

My brother, Simon Mendoza, was finally here.

He was an ER doctor at the city hospital. More importantly, he knew better than anyone how dangerous my allergy was.

He pressed two fingers to my neck and checked my pulse.

The moment he felt how weak it was, his expression changed. He knew something was seriously wrong.

Then, one by one, the phones around us began turning toward him.

Someone in the crowd shouted, "The principal's son is a doctor too? What, is the whole family going to make sure Selena gets treated first?"

I felt Simon's grip on me loosen.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, he carefully lowered me back onto the chair and straightened up.

"No," he said firmly, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Selena is my sister. That's exactly why I can't be the one deciding if she gets treated first."