The Son They Betrayed

Despite scoring 1580 on the SAT, the acceptance letter I received was from a community college. Mom glanced at it and smiled. "Both brothers going to the same school? You can look after each other. That's great." All the color drained from my face. "Mom, did you change my college application to a vocational college? With my score, I could've gotten into Bellwether University!" Mom turned her head and explained casually, "Do I not know you? Getting that score was pure luck. After all, you've never been as smart as your brother, even when you were little. "I'm only thinking of what's best for you. I was afraid you'd go to Bellwether University and get crushed by all those geniuses. You're better off being a big fish in a small pond at a community college, where you can win scholarships and help support the family." She said it as though it were perfectly reasonable. With one casual remark about how she was only looking out for me, she'd turned ten years of hard work into a joke. My head spun. I grabbed the edge of the table and saw my younger brother, Mikael, playing with his newly purchased Apple bundle. The familiar figure on the receipt caught my eye: $10,000. Exactly the amount of scholarship money my school had awarded me. My voice trembling, I turned to my parents. Mom merely clicked her tongue. "What's wrong with an older brother spending a little money on his younger brother?" Dad looked up and placed a phone case in my hand. "I got you a gift too. You did well on the exam this time. Keep it up." I stared blankly at the cheap phone case in my hand. It wasn't even the right size for my phone. Tears spilled uncontrollably from my eyes. My parents acted as though they hadn't noticed. They patted my shoulders and reminded me to take good care of my younger brother when we got to school. I wiped my tears and silently returned to my room. Then I called Bellwether University's admissions office. "About the early admission offer you mentioned before... Is it still possible for me to accept it?" Chapter 1 Outside my room, my parents, Hugh and Veda Pruitt, were packing my younger brother Miakel's things while reminding him, "I'll talk to your teacher and see if I can get you and your brother assigned to the same dorm room. "That way, whenever you need to change your sheets, get food, or pick up a package, Quinton can do it for you. It'll make things easier. After all, your brother was born to look after you." At those words, tears streamed down my face again. Ever since I was old enough to understand things, Mom had constantly told me to look after Mikael. Whenever he ran short of spending money, she would take mine and tell me to help him out. Whenever he left questions unanswered on a test, she would take my completed paper, replace my name with his, and let him turn it in. The best food and toys in the house always went to him first. But whenever he did something wrong, I was always the one who got punished. I sniffled as I listened to the admissions officer on the other end of the phone tell me it wasn't too late to make arrangements. My whole body went limp, and I collapsed onto my bed. The relief of having narrowly escaped disaster left me too choked up to speak. I had barely hung up when my bedroom door was pushed open. The chair I had wedged behind it scraped loudly across the floor. "Quinton, why do you have a chair behind the door?" Mom frowned and kicked it aside. "Because the lock is broken." "Oh. I'll have your father fix it later." "Mom, I've heard you say that for three years." Mikael had broken the lock three years ago. Ever since, my parents had kept promising to fix it, but they had never gotten around to it. Meanwhile, when the light in Mikael's room went out, he had a new one the very next day. When he accidentally bumped his head against the corner of his desk one morning, Dad carried a brand-new desk into his room that afternoon. Smiling, he patted Mikael's head and said, "I've had the corners made childproof. You won't hurt yourself again." Mikael asked what they were going to do with his old desk. Dad said, "We'll move it into Quinton's room." And so my room gradually filled up with things Mikael no longer wanted. His desk, chair, lamp, bedsheets... Even my phone was one he'd discarded after upgrading. I looked down at the phone I'd just finished charging. The battery percentage was visibly dropping before my eyes. I couldn't help asking, "Mom, Mikael got a new phone. Could you get me one too? It doesn't have to be expensive. Something for a little over a hundred dollars would be fine." Mom was holding a plate of apples that had already started turning brown. She set it down beside my desk. "Why don't you just use Mikael's old phone? He got a new one, didn't he?" From outside the room, Mikael shouted, "No way, Mom! My old phone has tons of pictures on it. I can't give it to Quinton!" Mom turned back to me. "Then keep using the one you have. It's not broken, is it?" Staring at my phone, whose screen had gone completely black, I finally burst into tears. "Why? Why can't I have a new phone? Am I just supposed to use everything Mikael doesn't want?" Chapter 2 Mom looked at me and tried to comfort me. "Quinton, we're not a wealthy family. You've always been such a good boy. Can't you stop competing with Mikael?" I'd heard those same words all my life. Only now did I finally understand that being called "good" wasn't a compliment. It was a shackle. With that one word, she made me willingly give up everything I had and become Mikael's personal caretaker, cleaning up every mess he made. I wiped my tears and said, "I understand, Mom. I won't ask you to buy me anything anymore." Hearing that, Mom smiled and patted my head. She speared a piece of apple with a fork and held it to my mouth. "My good boy. Here's an apple for you." It was the kind of treatment Mikael always received, something I'd envied for years. Mom knew how much I wanted that affection. Whenever she needed something from me, she would feed me something herself. But this time, I turned my head and said flatly, "All I want is for you to give me back my scholarship money. I earned it myself. You had no right to take it." Her expression darkened instantly. "Quinton Pruitt! So you've gotten bold now, have you? "You eat my food and wear the clothes I buy. Do you think any of that is free? We've fed you and clothed you, and this is how you repay us? You're an ungrateful brat!" Mom was so furious that she smashed the plate onto the floor. Shards flew everywhere, cutting my cheek. Mikael rushed in and joined Mom in scolding me. "Why do you always make Mom angry, Quinton?" He crouched down to pick up the broken pieces, only to cut his hand. "Ouch!" His cry immediately drew all of Mom's attention. "Mikael! Your hand is bleeding!" Dad hurried in from the hallway and anxiously helped him to his feet. "We need to get you to the hospital. That cut looks pretty deep. Do you think you'll need stitches?" "Stitches?" Mikael's face instantly went pale. Tears welled in Mom's eyes. She stroked his head and reassured him. "Don't be scared. Mommy's here." Before leaving, she turned and shot me a vicious glare. Blood continued to run down my face, dripping onto my bedsheets. I lowered my head to wipe it away, only to realize there was blood all over my feet too. So I had cut my feet as well. Why hadn't I felt any pain? After cleaning up the broken pieces on the floor, I went to the bathroom, washed my wounds, and covered them with bandages. Mikael came back. Like me, he had a bandage covering his injury. "Thank goodness it's nothing serious. Mom would've been heartbroken otherwise." "Remember when you fell as a little kid and got a nosebleed? Mom was so worried she couldn't sleep properly for days." Mikael laughed. "What's the big deal? I don't even remember that." I lowered my eyes, digging my fingernails into my palms. Mikael didn't remember, but I did. After his nosebleed, Mom had blamed me for not watching him properly. She had beaten me so badly that I couldn't get out of bed for three days. But Mikael had only been three years old then. So had I. "Mom, my bandage came off." "You little rascal..." Mom took out the first-aid kit, intending to put another bandage on Mikael's hand. But when she opened it, she discovered there were none left. She looked up and saw me holding the last one, about to cover the cut on my face. "Quinton! Are you seriously fighting with your brother over a bandage now?" Chapter 3 She hurried over and snatched the bandage out of my hand. Her fingers scraped against my face, reopening the wound that had already begun to scab over. Blood started flowing again. I covered my face and looked at her. "Mom, I wasn't fighting him for the bandage. I'm bleeding too." "Serves you right!" She didn't even spare me a glance as she stuck the last bandage onto Mikael's hand. "Oh, and go buy some more. Mikael will need to change his bandage." After she said that, I stood there without moving. "Why aren't you going?" "I don't have any money." "You little leech." She tossed me one dollar. Then she glanced at the bandages on my arms and legs and muttered, "What a waste. Why do you need so many?" "Mom, maybe Quinton just wants to get your attention." The moment I closed the door, I heard Mom let out a derisive snort. I went to buy more bandages. By then, the blood on my face had already dried. When the pharmacist handed me the bandages, she looked at me with concern. "Have you disinfected this wound?" "No." She reached for some cotton swabs and antiseptic. I instinctively stepped back. "I don't have any money." "It's just a little cleaning. I won't charge you." She gently dabbed the antiseptic onto my face. For some reason, I suddenly pictured Mom applying medicine to Mikael's injuries. I fought back my tears and stared hard at the ceiling. I waited while the pharmacist placed a bandage over my cheek. "There. All done. You need to be especially careful with a wound on your face. You don't want it to leave a scar." I nodded and hurried out. When I handed Mom the bandages, she glanced at the treated wound on my face and sneered. "I thought you said you didn't have any money." I opened my mouth, wanting to explain that the pharmacist had treated my wound for free, but when I saw the utter distrust in Mom's eyes, I suddenly didn't feel like saying anything. I turned around and walked away in silence. Mom complained to Dad, "Look at him. He walks around with that sour expression every day, as if we owe him a fortune." Mikael glanced at me, hesitated, then said, "Mom, why don't I return my MacBook and get a cheaper one? We could use the difference to buy Quinton a phone. After all, we did use his scholarship money." My steps came to a halt. I knew perfectly well Mom wouldn't agree to Mikael's suggestion, but a tiny spark of hope still flared inside me. "See? Your little brother is so considerate." Mom looked at Mikael with approval. When she turned to me, her eyes were filled with undisguised disgust. "You should learn from Mikael. Look how sweet and thoughtful he is. Then look at you, always wearing that miserable expression." I spun around and looked at Mikael's new phone. With a bitter smile, I said, "Mom, if you'd used Mikael's $10,000 scholarship to buy me the whole Apple lineup, I'd be happy too. I'd smile at you every single day." Mom seemed to miss the point entirely. She pointed at me and said, "So all you care about is spending Mikael's money? Don't you have any sense of responsibility as an older brother? Mikael even offered to buy you a new phone, and now I don't think you deserve one." Mikael frowned at me. "Quinton, don't hold this against me. I offered to buy you a phone. You're the one who made Mom angry again. "I didn't make her angry. She's angry just looking at me. But don't worry. From now on, I'll make sure she never has to see me again." I shut my door and moved the desk behind it to block the entrance. Then I took out my phone, plugged it in, and started looking for tutoring jobs. With a score of 1580, I received plenty of offers as soon as I posted my results. I did the math. If I worked for a full month, I'd earn enough to cover my tuition and transportation costs, and still have money left over for a new phone. The more I calculated, the more hopeful I felt. When I opened my door again, Mom, Dad, and Mikael were already eating, but the chair that was supposed to be mine was missing from the dining table. Chapter 4 When Mom saw me come out, she snorted. "Some people should stop eating the food I cook if they think they're so capable." My only response was the sound of my bedroom door closing. I went to my tutoring job. The parent there had told me meals were included. When I got home, Mom was sitting on the couch with a cold expression. She asked where I'd been wandering around. "I found a part-time job. I'm saving up for a new phone." Her expression softened a little. She handed me several sheets of paper. The title was written in thick black marker: [Things to Remember When Taking Care of Mikael] 1. Change his sheets and bedding at least once a month. Mikael doesn't know how, so remember to do it for him. 2. Mikael kicks off his blankets when he sleeps. Get up during the night to check on him so he doesn't catch a cold. 3. Do Mikael's assigned dorm chores for him. 4. Mikael likes spicy food, but too much of it makes him sick. Remember to make him lemonade regularly. ... 99. By the way, I found you a part-time job over there. If Mikael runs short of money, remember to give him some. There were so many instructions. I flipped through the pages one by one, feeling absolutely nothing. Seeing that I wasn't refusing, Mom smiled. "I know I was unfair to you by making you go to a community college." As she spoke, she handed me a bag. Inside was a brand-new phone. I didn't take it. Mikael grabbed the bag and forcibly shoved it into my hands. "Come on, Quinton. Take it." "That way, you won't have to work so hard." I accepted it and glanced at the receipt. $199. Even Mikael's headphones cost more than that. I smiled faintly and handed the phone back to Mom. "Just return it. I don't need it." Mom frowned. "What's wrong with you? You wanted a new phone before. Why don't you want one now?" "I'll earn the money and buy the one I want myself." Mom smiled when she heard that. "What a good boy. You finally know how to save us some money." She told Dad to drive over and return the phone. I turned to go back to my room, but Mom caught my hand. "Take these instructions about Mikael and memorize them. I'll test you tomorrow." "Memorize them?" Even though I'd long known how much Mom favored Mikael, I still found the request absurd. "Of course. Mikael has never been so far away from home before. I'm worried about him." She held my hand, her eyes filled with concern for Mikael. What about me? I was going somewhere even farther away than he was. Mom, would you worry about me? After looking into her eyes for two seconds, I smiled. "Okay." The month of part-time work passed quickly. I was getting ready to take my earnings and buy a phone and a train ticket. But when I reached under my bed, the money was gone. My heart sank. I pushed open the door and saw Mikael showing off his new hairstyle and clothes, striking poses in front of me. "Quinton, don't I look cool?" "Did you take my money again?" Mikael scratched his head. "What money?" Mom walked in behind him. She glanced at me and said matter-of-factly, "Mikael didn't take it. I did. Why were you hiding money under your bed? Were you planning something bad?" "Mom, I told you I was saving up to buy a new phone!" "Oh, so you need that much money just to buy a phone?" I fought to control my emotions and gritted my teeth. "Give my money back!" She folded her arms and pointed at Mikael, who was taking selfies and posting them on social media. "Look how handsome Mikael is. Isn't earning money supposed to be for Mikael?" She tossed ten dollars at me. "Here. There's a little left. Take it and buy yourself one of those basic old-fashioned phones." As I stared at the money on the floor, my fingertips trembled uncontrollably. I couldn't bear to stay in that house for another second. I rushed out, clutching the gold bracelet Mom had given me years ago. I'd won first prize in a national competition, and Mom had been so happy that she bought a gold bracelet—one for me and another for Mikael. Over the years, whenever Mom favored Mikael, I would hold my bracelet and comfort myself. Mom loves me too. Other mothers don't even buy their children gold bracelets. But now, I no longer wanted to keep imagining that Mom loved me. "Hello. How much would you give me for this gold bracelet?" I walked into a jewelry store and asked the person behind the counter. The clerk pushed up his glasses. "Son, this bracelet is gold-plated silver. It isn't worth much. Could someone have cheated you?" In an instant, tears blurred my vision. The emotional support I'd relied on for more than a decade had collapsed without warning. It had all been a joke. I wiped away my tears with a smile. "How much can I get for it? Would it be enough to buy a train ticket to Bellwether?"