Chapter 1

1: 1

On the first day of orientation camp, my sister sat in the folding chair my brother Antony Garner had carried out for her, eating the sweet bowl of porridge our mother was spooning into her mouth.

My childhood friend Ralph Fox stood beside her, holding up a little handheld fan.

I stood off to the side, my eyes lowered.

Listening to her chewing and the little "mm" sounds she made every so often, I couldn't help swallowing.

Fifty-five minutes later, she finally finished.

And I could finally lift my head and carefully take the thermos Antony held out to me.

I looked inside. Only a few ice cubes, still not fully melted.

I held the thermos, not knowing what to do.

Antony saw it and didn't like it one bit. He raised his voice.

"What are you looking at? You've been with us your whole life, and you still want to fight your sister over a bowl of porridge!"

Mother frowned and joined in.

"You've loved fighting with your sister since you were little. We had no choice but to send her abroad. I never thought you'd grow up and stay exactly the same."

Ralph looked at me too, disapproval all over his face.

My fingers stiffened. Slowly I set the thermos down, turned, and walked away.

Behind me came Antony's complaining and Mother's soothing.

Ralph jogged after me and pressed two one-dollar bills into my hand.

"Lolly, go buy yourself a cup of porridge at the snack shop. Don't fight your sister over it."

I held the two bills he'd forced on me, and there was nothing inside me at all.

Watching the whole crowd gathered around my sister, I suddenly laughed.

If my existence was a mistake from the very start,

then I might as well leave.

1

Growl after growl came from my stomach.

Only then did I remember I hadn't eaten a bite since training began.

The night before camp, Mother came into my room, a rare thing, and for the first time she took my hand and told me to get up early to bring my sister breakfast.

So today I got up so early it annoyed my roommates.

My sister had sent a long list.

Two bowls of noodle soup, one with no scallions, one with extra meat sauce; a breakfast sandwich, crispy; two meat buns and four veggie rolls.

The items were scattered in different places, one south, one north, one by the main gate.

By the time I'd delivered it all, it was already 5:50.

Looking at the long line, all I could do was grab a one-dollar loaf at the convenience store.

But I still didn't get the chance to eat it.

By now that loaf had gone soft and wrinkled in my pocket.

I dug it out, tore open the wrapper, and was just about to take the first bite.

The whistle blew.

Lunch was only one hour, and the instructor always called us in early.

So once again I didn't get to eat, and had to stuff it back in my pocket.

Rubbing my stomach, I hurried toward the assembly point.

Then a strong hand yanked me to a stop.

I looked up into Antony's impatient face.

Then Mother took my hand and said,

"Lolly, remember to wash your sister's clothes tonight."

"A whole day of training. She'll be worn out."

Ralph added from the side, "By hand. Your sister isn't used to anything else."

I froze. I was about to say something.

Then I saw the instructor across the way blowing his whistle in my direction.

Short and sharp.

I had no choice but to agree quickly.

Antony didn't like how half-hearted I sounded, and gripped my hand tighter, refusing to let go.

"You little brat, one mention of your sister and you turn into this!"

Ralph knitted his brows, a flicker of irritation under his eyes.

"Sery was overseas all this time. You should take care of her, give in to her, stop always trying to fight her. Think of it as making up for everything you've owed her all these years."

The instructor was shooting me a warning look. Holding back my tears, I gave in, my voice catching.

"I understand. I won't fight my sister. I'll take good care of her."

Only after I finished saying it did he let go, disgusted, and let me leave.

Ralph's tight expression slowly eased into his usual gentle look, and he lifted a hand toward the top of my head.

I turned aside to dodge it and ran for the assembly point.

But I was still a minute late.

The instructor made me run ten laps around the field as punishment, saying the whole time,

"Can certain students knock off the pampered act? You're in college now, and you still lean on your family for everything. When are you ever going to learn to stand on your own!"

Independent?

I ran, and I thought about it. What counts as independent?

Thirty days in a month, and they were gone at least half of them.

My parent-teacher conferences, my award ceremonies, even my birthday every year, they never came to a single one.

The moment I brought it up,

they'd throw my sister back in my face, the one living all alone overseas.

Over and over they called me greedy, never satisfied.

Greedy for what? What had I ever gotten?

Their company? They set aside time every month to go live abroad with my sister for a while.

Their love? Every time I ran a fever I went to the clinic and got the IV drip on my own.

Their money? I'd seen it clearly. My sister got ten thousand a month, and I got eight hundred.

The sun was so strong, the sweat so salty.

It stung my eyes until they ached, until I almost wanted to cry.

After the last lap I came back to the assembly point.

The instructor had dismissed the formation early, worried the students would get heatstroke in the heat.

Something pricked my chest like a needle.

My stomach was hollow and burning, dull empty waves rolling through it, until even my fingertips went weak and soft.

I went to the tap first and splashed water on my face.

The cold water hit my skin, and my body felt a good deal better.

In the quiet, a voice reached my ear.

"Hey. I've been watching you for a while. Any interest in the National Collegiate Track Championship?"

I looked up. A middle-aged woman in a coach's uniform stood in front of me.