“If you transfer,” Professor Bell told me, “you would enter their honors track. Hawthorne Fellows are often considered for commencement recognition. Sometimes valedictorian, depending on record and faculty review.”
“Valedictorian,” I repeated.
“You should not choose Briarwood because of your family,” he said.
“I know.”
“And you should not avoid it because of them either.”
That decided me.
I applied.
I did not tell my parents.
Not because I planned a grand humiliation. I simply wanted something that belonged to me before anyone could question it. My life had been measured against Amber’s for so long that secrecy felt like oxygen.
The fellowship changed everything. I dropped one cleaning shift. Then another. I bought groceries without adding the total in my head. The first time I bought fresh berries simply because I wanted them, I cried in the produce aisle and pretended I had allergies.
My closest friend at Northlake, Tessa Brooks, found out when she saw me staring at the fellowship email in the library. She read it over my shoulder, covered her mouth, then hugged me so hard my chair rolled backward.
