Chapter 3

My mom's footsteps echoed behind me as she leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed.

"We already ate. Dinner's at six sharp every day. You weren't home, and you really thought we'd wait on you?" my mom said, leaning against the doorway, her voice sharp with impatience.

"Seriously, you didn't even make the cut, and all you care about is dinner? You should be grateful I'm not forcing you to sit down and think about where you messed up."

Lucy strolled over, absentmindedly tapping at her phone.

"That's right, Emily. Didn't get picked? Maybe think about whether you really tried hard enough," Lucy added, her voice laced with mock concern.

"Oh, never mind. Even if you practiced all day, it wouldn't help. It's just not in you," Lucy smirked.

I didn't say anything and just checked the fridge again—not even a crumb in sight.

My mom, annoyed that I was blocking her way, gave me a push. "Don't just stand there. If you're hungry, order yourself some takeout, and don't count on me to pay for it."

My heart sank.

Last time Lucy came home at ten after hanging out with her friends, my mom made sure to keep her dinner warm in a container and even warmed up some milk for her.

But for me, there wasn't even a scrap left.

I looked at my mom and Lucy, and suddenly found it all so absurd.

I laughed at myself—how many years I'd let love blind me, missing the obvious truth right in front of me.

I didn't argue with them anymore, just walked back to my room.

As soon as I closed the door, my mom's voice rang out, laughing extra loud on the phone with some relative.

"Oh, you know, Lucy's always been top of her class. She made it onto the honor guard. She totally earned it."

"Emily is just as useless as her deadbeat father. Couldn't even get through the selection, and she's been mooching off me all these years."

I pressed myself against the door, knuckles clenched and fingers white from holding back the ache. It took a minute for me to calm down before I finally fished my training wristbands out of my backpack.

The walls were covered with drill diagrams, red pen marking every angle, every pose. I'd spent what felt like endless nights alone, putting all this together.

I strapped on my wristbands and started practicing my march in the empty room.

My knee twinged with every step—a lingering reminder of last night's tumble after pushing myself too hard.

Only by repeating these moves, maybe I could tune out all that cold-hearted crap from outside my room.

The door slammed open, echoing through the room.

Lucy burst in and saw me practicing, nearly collapsing with laughter right in the doorway.

"Emily, the election is over, and who are you putting on this act for? You didn't make the cut. Stop faking it and just quit already," Lucy scoffed.

I stopped, my fingers still poised in a rifle grip.

"Trying hard isn't just putting on a show. Even if I didn't make it, none of that practice was for nothing," I said, my tone firm.

Lucy's smile froze, her cheeks turning bright red.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she shot back.

"Are you saying I don't put in the work?"

"Listen, Emily. I do my skincare every single day, and I've been training my figure longer than you. So why shouldn't I be the one picked?"

Without missing a beat, Lucy dashed out, her voice loud enough for the whole house to hear. "Mom, Emily's totally jealous I got picked. She says she put in way more effort than I."

My mom didn't even hesitate—she came straight at me and slapped me hard across the face.

The sting made my cheek go numb; tears sprang to my eyes before I could stop them.

But my mom wasn't finished yet. She pointed right in my face, yelling at me.

"You never make things easy for me. How many times have I told you—your only job is to make sure Lucy has everything she needs. And what are you doing? Talking back to her and scheming when my back is turned?"

"I wasn't talking back," I stuttered, clutching my face, my voice quivering with hurt.

"Still got the nerve to argue?" my mom snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"Just because you went to the election with Lucy, you really think you can stand on equal ground with her?"

"Let me break it to you—never gonna happen!"

"Lucy's got the looks, and she could be a celebrity one day. But you? All you did was inherit your useless father's traits. Tell me, what do you have?"

"Even if you somehow got picked, in this house, you'll never be anything but Lucy's stepping stone."