Chapter 2

I took the SATs and scored a near-perfect 1600.

Mom and Dad looked at my results and immediately suggested I choose the same university as Xandra.

Their intentions were crystal clear: I was being sent there to be Xandra's academic crutch, to babysit her through every credit until she managed to stumble across the graduation stage.

Back then, I tried to fight back.

But it didn't matter.

I triple-checked my application, but Dad was a senior programmer; bypassing my security and swapping my top-choice enrollment for Xandra's school at the very last second was child's play for him.

This time, I didn't fight. I just wasn't strong enough.

Dad looked a bit guilty when he saw how quietly I accepted it.

When he found out I picked the same college as Xandra, he gave me a bank card.

It had 10,000 dollars loaded onto it. He reminded me not to tell Mom or Xandra. He said it was just for me, to buy whatever I wanted.

But after what happened before, there was no way I'd fall for the same trick twice.

Before the winter break of our freshman year, Xandra had already blown through her entire travel allowance.

I swapped my flight for a grueling seat on a long-distance bus, so I could ride back with her. But she refused.

She hated the lingering smell of stale air and cramped quarters.

So, she stayed on campus and lied to Mom and Dad, saying her professor needed her for a project.

She was all ego and no substance, a master at maintaining a facade of success.

The last thing she wanted was for Mom and Dad to see her as some spoiled brat who'd blown her entire semester's budget. She'd die before she admitted she was too broke to afford a bus ticket home.

And she didn't want her classmates looking down on her either. Borrowing money was out of the question.

But the one who ended up paying the price for Xandra's tough-it-out routine was me.

She spent five days washing dishes nonstop at a little restaurant, all to scrape together what she thought was enough for a ticket.

While she was busy earning a pittance, the travel algorithms were working against her. By the time she had the cash in hand, the holiday surge pricing had kicked in, and the cost of a seat had spiraled out of control.

When she finally realized it, it was already Christmas Eve.

She called Mom and Dad, crying through the phone. "The dorm's freezing, and they cut off the water and electricity. I'm so scared!"

That was when Mom and Dad finally realized something wasn't right.

They called me in and asked what had happened.

I told them everything.

This time, it was Dad who snapped. He slapped me hard across the face.

The sting burned into my skin. Five red marks bloomed on my cheek, and the hit blurred my vision. Even Mom looked shocked.

But Dad wasn't done. He raised his hand to hit me again.

Mom grabbed his arm just in time. If she hadn't, he might've knocked me out cold.

"What are you doing?" Mom shouted, her brows drawn tight.

Dad snapped back, "Xandra's been spoiled since she was little, and Ninette knows that. And still she bought her a bus ticket? What, hoping Xandra wouldn't come home? She's your sister! Would it have killed you to just get her a flight ticket?"

I gave him a bitter smile. "That was all I had. If I'd bought her a flight ticket, I wouldn't have made it home myself."

Dad's voice rose again. "Didn't I give you 10,000 dollars for emergencies? How could you not have any money left?"

I forced a tight smile and glanced at Mom.

Her expression darkened. She looked cornered. While Dad kept throwing accusations, she finally spoke. "That 10,000 dollars... Ninette gave it to me a while ago. S-She really doesn't have much left."

Dad bit his lip, clearly caught off guard.

But the damage was already done—he'd hit me and yelled at me.

There was no chance he'd admit fault now.

So he started coming up with excuses, though the anger in his voice had lost its edge.

"Even without that money, couldn't you have just saved some of your allowance? You had to have enough for her ticket. You just didn't want her to come home; just admit it!" he snapped.

I didn't respond. I just turned to Mom and gave her a faint smile. She took a breath and said softly, "That's enough. Ninette really doesn't have any extra money."

Dad looked at her, confused. "How could she not? She gets eight hundred bucks a month, way more than enough for a ticket."

"No, Ninette doesn't get that much," Mom replied quietly.

"You serious? Ninette and Xandra both get 800 dollars!"

"No," she said, her voice low. "Ninette only gets 200 dollars."

Yeah. My allowance was just 200 dollars a month. Same as in my previous life. Nothing had changed.

The only thing different? Last time, Mom forced that budget on me. This time, I asked for it.

Before school even started in September, I handed the 10,000 dollars Dad gave me to Mom. I said, "Xandra's not in great health. She probably needs more than I do. I only need 200 dollars a month, Mom. Give the rest to her."

Mom looked genuinely surprised at first.

But she quickly agreed, showering me with praise for being so understanding.

It saved her the trouble of making up reasons to criticize me while handing Xandra the money, after all.

The flight home cost 200 dollars. I stretched every penny for an entire semester just to save enough.

But in the end, I was the only one who went home. Back to what was always really Xandra's house—not mine.

That place... it never truly felt like home to me.

Mom kept her eyes down, refusing to meet mine.

Dad pressed his lips tight, jaw tense.

Even though he knew he'd gone too far, he wouldn't apologize. Not a chance.

In our house, apologies were only for outsiders.

I looked at him and gave a crooked smile. "Sorry, Dad. If this happens again, I'll spend every cent I have making sure Xandra gets her ticket."

Not like anyone cared if I came back or not.

As I turned to head back to my room, Mom called out, her voice heavy with blame. "Ninette, if you'd just told me what was going on with Xandra, your dad wouldn't have misunderstood, and you wouldn't have been hit. Why do you always make things so hard for yourself?

"This is all on you," she said. "You can't blame your dad for this. And definitely not Xandra. Or me."

I froze in place. That bitterness I knew too well rose in my throat.

Of course. Everything unfolded exactly like I thought it would. Good thing I was ready for it.

I turned back around, pulled out my phone, and hit play on the recording I'd made a few days earlier.

My voice came out loud and clear. "Dad, Mom, Xandra can't come home because she doesn't have money for a ticket. She's not staying on campus for some project. Flight prices are skyrocketing by the hour because of the holiday surge. You really should just buy her a ticket now."

Then came the sarcastic, half-smiling responses I'd recorded.

Mom said, "What's wrong with you, Ninette? Jealous that your sister got chosen for a project? You just can't stand her doing well, can you?"

Dad chimed in, "Xandra just sent me a photo of her holding her flight ticket. Quit stirring up trouble. You've got time to run your mouth; why not study harder and think about how to get picked by a professor yourself?"

Then they both took turns going on about how great Xandra was.

Every time I tried to speak, they cut me off, acting like I was scheming or jealous.

When the recording ended, both Mom and Dad were pale. Their lips trembled, but not a word came out.

They had nothing left to say. This time, there was no way they could dump the blame on me.