Chapter 2
By sophomore year, I was always in the top five of my grade.
No one knew I was only eating two meals a day.
I skipped breakfast so I could save up for study materials.
The workbooks the school handed out weren't enough. I needed more practice questions.
After paying for lunch and dinner, I had less than 30 dollars left from my 200-dollar monthly allowance.
30 dollars.
I spent it all on prep books.
My deskmate asked, "Why do you never eat breakfast?"
"I'm not hungry," I said.
She tore her bread in half and gave it to me.
I told her I didn't need it.
But she pressed it into my hand anyway.
"You're so skinny and you say you're not hungry?" she said.
That was the only time I ever cried in all three years of high school.
Not because I felt sorry for myself.
But because a classmate, by casually giving me half a piece of bread, gave me more than my mom ever had.
Meanwhile, James had three private tutors throughout high school for Math, English, physics.
Those tutors cost 60 dollars an hour.
In total, it was six hours a week, 1600 dollars a month.
Over three years, the tutoring alone cost 56 thousand dollars.
56 thousand dollars.
That was enough for me to eat baked potatoes for 620 months.
I wrote it all down in my ledger.
By the end of sophomore year, the numbers in my ledger were updated.
James' column totaled to 135 thousand dollars.
Me: 17.5 thousand dollars.
The gap kept getting bigger.
But I wasn't angry anymore.
I simply kept noting it down.
Every single expense.
Every single day.
I was going to keep this ledger until the day I walked out of this house for good.
And then I'd show it to Mom.
By the first semester of my junior year, I started putting together my application for the scholarship.
It included my grades, competition achievements, and recommendation letter.
Jeanette was the one who bought me those shoes back in middle school, and who later transferred to our high school, knew exactly what I was going through.
She even wrote my recommendation letter for me.
It was a long one.
There was one line I couldn't forget: [This kid deserves to be seen.]
I made a photocopy of that letter and slipped it into my ledger.
I didn't tell anyone in my family.
It was my secret.
And my way out.
*****
Something happened during the winter break of my senior year.
Mom told me to dig out the family registration book from the cabinet.
James needed it for some paperwork.
At the very bottom, I stumbled across a bankbook.
I flipped it open.
The account name belonged to James.
It showed 150 dollars, deposited every single month, starting in August 2006.
I did the math in my head.
That was the month James was born.
150 hundred dollars a month, for eighteen years straight.
With interest, the balance had grown to 37 thousand dollars.
37 thousand dollars for an education fund.
It started from the very first day he came into this world.
I set the bankbook down.
Then I dug through the cabinet again.
I checked every corner, every shelf, but there was no second bankbook.
No "Stella Hamilton" on the bankbook.
Not a single one with my name on it.
I crouched there, staring at that bankbook for what felt like forever.
150 hundred dollars, month after month.
For eighteen years.
It wasn't that my parents couldn't afford it.
They simply never bothered to save a cent for me.
It wasn't about our family's finances being tight.
From the day I was born, they'd already made up their minds that the money belonged to James, not me.
"That's just how things are. Someone has to step aside." Mom's words echoed in my head.
Fine.
I'd stepped aside for eighteen years.
That was enough.
I put the bankbook back where it belonged and went to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water.
My hands didn't shake at all.
That night, I updated my ledger.
At the bottom, I wrote: [James has an education fund, saved from birth to eighteen years old, totaling 37 thousand dollars.
[I don't have one.]
Just two lines.
I stared at those words for a long time.
Then I closed the book.
*****
Two months before the SAT, everyone started talking about college applications.
My goal was crystal clear: that top university with a full-ride scholarship.
It was out of state.
Nearly 1000 miles from home.
I didn't mention it to my family but somehow, Mom got wind of it.
One night, she called me into the living room.
"Stella, your dad and I have discussed your college plans," she said.
I looked at her.
"Apply to Werner Teachers College here in town. Your grades are good enough, and after you graduate you can be a teacher. It's a nice and stable job," she said.
I said, "I want to study out of state."
Her face instantly darkened.
"Why would you want to go so far? Have you thought about how much the train tickets will cost, back and forth?" she snapped.
Dad sat there, smoking in silence.
James was sprawled on the couch, glued to his phone.
Mom kept going. "James needs money this year too. He's graduating, has to find a job and rent an apartment. If you stay local, the money we save—"
"—goes to James." I finished her sentence for her.
She froze, caught off guard.
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"You mean if I stay here, all the money you save goes straight to James, right?" I said.
Her lips moved, but nothing came out.
"That's not what I meant..." she muttered.
"Then what did you mean?" I pressed.
She stared at me like she didn't know who I was anymore.
She started, "How can you talk to me like that? I'm doing this for your own good! Girls shouldn't go so far from home—"
"Yeah, I get it," I said.
I stood up.
"I'm going to do my homework," I said.
I went back to my room and closed the door behind me.
I didn't get angry.
Getting angry wouldn't change a thing.
I'd already done everything I needed to do: submitted the scholarship application and sent the recommendation letter.
Now all I could do was wait for the results.
But what I didn't expect was the move Mom pulled next.
After the SAT results were released, it was time to submit our applications online.
Mom knew my account and password.
While I was out, she snuck into my account, deleted my out-of-state dream school, and swapped it for Werner Teachers College.
I only found out the day before the deadline.
The system sent me a text: [Your application has been modified.]
I logged in to check.
Werner Teachers College was listed as my first choice and only option.
I sat at my desk, staring at the screen for a full five minutes.
Then I switched it back.
I also changed my password too.
That was the moment I made up my mind.
I was leaving this house.
But before I walked out, I was going to settle the score for every single debt from the past eighteen years, one by one.