Chapter 2

Hearing my rejection, Dad let out a sigh of relief, a familiar, predictable smile playing on his lips.

"See, Jade? You only feel bad because you hold yourself to such high standards."

"Look at your sister. She failed, and she doesn't even care."

I watched my family ignore my existence, the joy of getting into the top dance school in the country completely evaporating.

"She's always been pathetic," Jade sneered, wiping her tears. "She shouldn't even be compared to me."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them that I was better than her.

But the warning from ten years later echoed in my mind, and I slowly clamped my mouth shut.

Mom patted Jade's shoulder. "Exactly. Our Jade has been winning local dance trophies since she was a little girl. I know you'll get in next year."

With that, Mom took a shiny Tiffany & Co. bracelet out of her pocket and clipped it onto Jade's wrist.

Then, her eyes flicked to my bare wrist. She sighed.

"Pearl, you need to start putting in some effort. This bracelet is a reward for your sister's hard work. You can't keep being the disappointment of this family."

I lowered my head.

Growing up, Jade was always the star.

No matter how hard I tried, I was always "just a bit short."

A bit short on looks, a bit short on intelligence, a bit short on talent.

Today was the very first time I had actually beaten Jade. I got into Juilliard.

But I was still "just a bit short" of getting my parents' love.

"Pearl, you don't think I'm being unfair, do you?" Mom asked, her voice dropping.

I shook my head. "No."

My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe.

"Good," Mom said. "If you really can't do anything else, you can just prep for the SATs again with Jade next year. It'll save us some trouble."

"No," Dad interrupted before I could even reply.

"Her situation is different from Jade's. She's just not built for dancing. Prep courses would be a waste of money."

I knew what Dad meant. He thought I was too short.

Unlike Jade, who supposedly had the "perfect dancer's body."

I had heard this my entire life.

Even my ballet instructors used to sigh when looking at me.

"Your proportions aren't ideal, Pearl. Your legs are too short. You two are twins, but why couldn't you inherit even half of Jade's physique?"

They always stopped there, but I knew the rest. Why are you so useless?

My parents believed my desire to dance was just a desperate attempt to copy my sister.

Whatever she had, I had to grab.

But it wasn't like that.

I just didn't want to be left behind in the dark.

Jade always got the custom designer tutus, the newest pointe shoes, and the spotlight with our parents' standing ovations.

Meanwhile, if I asked for a single pair of shoes, I was told I was wasting their hard-earned money.

For this Juilliard audition, I had trained until my toes bled. I had ruined dozens of shoes in secret.

And I made it.

But to them, I was still the trash sister.

Dad tossed a local community college brochure onto my lap.

"Stop trying to ride on your sister's coattails. Just apply to a local college nearby. That way, we can keep an eye on you."

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper.

"Okay," I whispered.

But under the table, my fingers slid across my phone screen, officially clicking "Accept Offer."

Juilliard was three thousand miles away in New York.

Once I left...

I was never coming back.