4 - Handcuffs at Commencement
While I was in the administration building, Ethan tried to slip away.
Security stopped him at the gate.
My brother — the perfect son, the one they poured all their money and pride into — looked smaller than I had ever seen him.
When they brought him into the room, he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Ethan,” I said calmly. “Did you know?”
He stayed silent.
“Did you know they were taking my scholarship money?” I asked again.
He finally looked up. His eyes were red.
“I didn’t know about the loans,” he muttered. “But I knew about the scholarship. Mom told me not to say anything. She said you didn’t need it as much as we did.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“You failed out of community college twice,” I said. “They still paid for your tutors, your car, your apartment. And you think I didn’t need it?”
Ethan looked away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Sorry doesn’t fix four years of lies,” I said. “Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that our parents tried to ruin my future so they could keep pretending you were the successful one.”
He didn’t answer.
May you like
Because there was nothing left to say.
The golden child had finally lost his shine.
