Simple.
Easygoing.
Independent.
They were never compliments.
They were excuses.
The final confirmation came by accident. My mother left her phone on the kitchen counter, and a message from Aunt Valerie lit the screen.
I feel bad for Maya, Mom had written. But Grant is right. Amber stands out more. We have to be practical.
Practical.
A clean word laid over something rotten.
I put the phone back exactly where it had been and went upstairs.
Something inside me did not break.
It settled.
The week before school began, Amber flew with my parents to California for Briarwood orientation. Her photos looked like postcards: stone buildings, ivy walls, sunny lawns, smiling upperclassmen. My mother commented on every picture. My father shared one and wrote, Proud of our Amber. Bright future ahead.
I packed my life into two worn suitcases and a backpack.
Northlake State was three hours away by bus. My parents did not offer to drive me. Dad said he had a project deadline. Mom said she was still exhausted from the Briarwood trip. Amber sent a selfie from a campus café with the caption, College life!
