Chapter 2

Early the next morning, I pushed open my parents' bedroom door and stood in front of them. "I studied for twelve hard years just to get into a good university. Why can't you support me?"

My father was sitting at the table drinking porridge. He set down his spoon, glanced at me, and looked annoyed as hell. "Support you? With what? This family is buried in debt. We can barely feed ourselves. How exactly are we supposed to support you?"

My mother came over holding a plate of pickles, set it on the table, and let out a sigh. "Try to cut us some slack. Things are really hard at home. Your father works every day until he can barely straighten his back."

Looking at the plain porridge and pickles on the table, then at their faded clothes, I almost believed I was the one being unreasonable. But whenever I thought about all those nights I stayed up grinding through practice problems, and all the mocking from my classmates, I just couldn't accept it.

"I'm not asking for anything else. I just need about 20 dollars for a book. Once I get into college, I'll work and pay you back myself."

"Pay you back? With what?" My father slapped the table so hard even the bowl of porridge shook. "College means even more money. Tuition, housing, all of it costs money. We can't come up with that."

"I can apply for a student loan and get a work-study job. You won't have to spend much on me." I rushed to explain, trying to convince them, my eyes full of pleading.

My mother put down her chopsticks, took my hand, and her eyes turned red. "Silly girl, doesn't a student loan still have to be paid back? And if work-study affects your classes, what if you can't graduate? Wouldn't that be even worse?"

"Listen to your mom. Stop studying. Girls from the next town can make over 1,000 dollars a month working away from home. That's way more practical than school." I pulled my hand back and looked at my mother, my heart turning cold.

That was always their excuse: it was for my own good, because the family was poor, and because I should accept my fate.

"I'm not going to work. I'm going to school." I said each word slowly and clearly. It was the first time I'd ever pushed back this hard.

My father completely lost it. He shot to his feet and pointed at me. "You've studied yourself stupid. Your vanity's through the roof, and now you look down on this poor family. Let me tell you something. Don't think a few good scores make you special. In this house, what I say goes."

"If you dare bring up study materials or college again, I'll burn every single one of your books." I looked at his rage, then at my mother still backing him up, and all the hurt inside me finally burst out.

"Vanity? In all these years, have I ever worn one new outfit? Have I ever even had a single snack? I've never asked for the things other students have. All I want is to study and change my life with my own hands. Is that wrong too?"

"Being poor is not an excuse to stop me from getting an education." My voice kept rising until I was shouting out all the pain I'd buried for eighteen years. My father was so stunned by my words he couldn't answer. His face turned dark, and he stepped forward like he was about to hit me again.

My mother quickly grabbed him and shot me a look, telling me to hurry up and apologize. I stood there without moving, not giving an inch. I was not apologizing. Wanting an education had never been wrong.

My father shook off my mother and pointed at the door. "Get the hell out. I don't have a daughter this defiant." I looked at him, and the tears I had been holding back finally spilled over.

I turned and ran out of the house. Standing by the roadside, watching people pass by, I felt completely helpless. Why were other kids cherished by their parents while I had to fight for even the right to study?

I wiped away my tears and swore to myself that even without their support, I would never give up.