Chapter 2
When Sophie hit middle school, Mary signed her up for three tutoring sessions a week—ELA, algebra, and piano—costing over two thousand dollars a month.
I was in the top twenty of my grade, but tutoring was never an option.
Mary would say, her tone dismissive, "Sarah's grades are solid; she doesn't need it.
"Sophie's foundation is shaky. She needs all the help she can get."
Richard nodded along, like a puppet. "You're right, Sarah doesn't need it."
In eighth grade, I landed third place in the entire grade.
Sophie, though, couldn't even get into a public high school, so Mary wrote a check for 16 thousand dollars in private school tuition and sent her off to a fancy academy.
Sixteen thousand dollars. When I started high school, my tuition was a mere 12 hundred dollars.
Once, I worked up the courage to ask Richard for a new pair of sneakers because my old ones had worn-through soles, and my socks would soak through on rainy days, leaving my feet freezing.
"How much?" he asked, digging into his pocket.
"Fifty dollars," I said, my voice small.
He pulled out 30 dollars and handed it to me. "Make do with this for now. I'll give you the rest next month."
The rest never came.
That same month, Sophie strutted around in a new pair of Nike sneakers, which were over two hundred dollars.
I bit my tongue. Arguing was a waste of breath; he'd never take my side.
All through high school, I wore Sophie's hand-me-down uniforms, which was too big, with sleeves that hung past my wrists.
"Why's your uniform so baggy?" my classmate asked, eyeing me curiously.
"They gave me the wrong size," I lied.
That winter during my sophomore year was brutal, the temperature dropping well below freezing.
Mary bought Sophie a brand-new down jacket for four hundred dollars, while I got Sophie's old thin jacket from the year before.
The zipper was busted, so it was pinned shut with safety pins.
I wore it to school every day, wind cutting through the gap in the pin, making me shiver from head to toe.
My teacher took pity on me, pulling an old coat from the staff room and handing it to me.
"It's cold out. Bundle up," she said, her voice soft.
No tears came. I'd long since stopped shedding them over such slights.
Crying never changed a thing, and no one cared anyway.
In my junior year mock exams, I did exceptionally well, placing among the top students.
My teacher pulled me aside, a smile on her face. "Sarah, you have got potential. Study hard, and you can get out of here, go to a top-tier university out of state."
Those words "get out of here" were like a ray of sunshine in the darkness.
I studied like my life depended on it, staying up until midnight every night in the storage closet, working by the light of a cheap lamp I'd bought with my own savings. The lamp bought by Grace had long since been "put away" by Mary, never to be seen again.
On the day of the SAT, I felt calm and confident. I knew I'd done my best.
When my scores came out, I was right up near the top.
That was more than good enough.
My first choice was a top-tier university 740 miles away.
I wanted to leave, to run as far as possible from that apartment.
I filled out my college applications on the Common App in the school computer lab, double-checking every detail three times before hitting submit.
Then I went home, my heart light with hope.
In late March, the acceptance letter arrived.
But it wasn't the out-of-state top-tier university I'd dreamed of.
It was a community college right here in the city.
I thought it was a mistake, some kind of mix-up.
I grabbed the phone and called the admissions office, my hands shaking.
"Your application was altered," the woman on the line said, matter-of-factly.
"Altered?" I repeated, stunned.
"The school you applied for was changed to the local community college. That's the application we received," she replied.
My hands were shaking at her words.
I didn't change a thing.
I raced home, my mind spinning.
Mary was sprawled on the couch, watching TV as if nothing had happened.
"Who changed my college applications?" I asked, my voice trembling with anger.
She glanced at me. "What college applications?"
"My college applications. I chose a top university out of state, but someone switched it to a local community college," I said.
She hit the remote, flipping to another channel.
"I changed it. You're a girl. Why go so far away? If you study here, you can stay close and take care of the family," she replied, calm as ever.
I glared at her, fury in my eyes. "Who gave you the right to mess with my applications?"
"I'm your mom," she said.
"You're not," I retorted, my voice cold and unwavering.
Her smile faltered for a moment, then she forced it back on. "Alright, I'm not. Ask your dad then," she said, shrugging.
Richard was out on the balcony, cigarette in hand.
I marched over, my voice trembling. "Dad, she changed my college applications."
He didn't even turn to look at me.
"I know," he said.
Those two simple words felt like nails hammered into me.
"You knew?" I echoed in shock.
"It's already changed. Local community college is fine..." Richard said, sounding indifferent.
"Fine? A community college is fine? I ranked top among those students," I yelled in frustration.
He fell silent, ash dropping to the balcony floor.
Mary called from the living room, her voice annoyed, "Sarah, stop being so dramatic. Going to community college is still going to school.
"Sophie's going to study abroad next year, and we're tight on cash. Staying here will save us money."
Sophie, who was so lousy at studying, was going to study abroad with Richard's money.
"Where's the money for her to study abroad coming from?" I demanded.
Mary stayed silent, avoiding my gaze.
Richard crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, his voice barely a mumble. "I sold some things."
"What things?" I pressed, but he wouldn't meet my eyes, wouldn't say another word.
I found out later that it was Grace's heirloom necklace, the one that had been put in Mary's jewelry box.
He'd sold it for 13 thousand dollars.
Combined with the family savings, it paid for Sophie's study abroad consulting fee and her first year of tuition.
That September, Sophie flew overseas.
I enrolled at the local community college, covering my tuition through work-study and extra part-time jobs on the side.
I worked long hours at the school dining hall, earning 250 a month, and that was only one of the jobs I took to scrape together enough for school.
Not once did I ask my family for money.