Chapter 3

The night before the surgery, I made a decision.

I took all my savings and put them in an envelope.

On the envelope, I wrote: Mom, this is the money I saved over the years. It's not much, but you can use it.

I organized all my choreography journals, checking them page by page.

Those journals were from freshman to senior year of high school, four years of work.

Every technique, every combination, key points marked in red, difficult parts marked in blue.

I put them in a box. On the box, I wrote: Dad, please donate these journals to the academy, maybe someone can use them.

Then I wrote a letter.

Very short.

Just a few lines.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. I'm too tired. Take care of yourselves. Don't blame me."

I put the letter under my pillow.

Then I took out that small bottle.

Jason had left it at my house the last time he came.

He said it was a "booster" for the vitamin shots and told me to keep it.

On the bottle was one word: Paraquat.

I didn't know what it was at the time.

Later, I looked it up.

Paraquat. Lethal pesticide. No antidote.

After drinking it, your lungs slowly turn to scar tissue. You suffocate to death.

The whole process lasts from several hours to several days.

You're conscious, but can't breathe.

I held that bottle in my hand all night.

I didn't hate my parents.

I knew they'd had it hard.

When they were young, they were too poor to raise two kids, so they could only give one away.

All these years, they'd been living with guilt.

Especially toward my sister.

They always felt they owed her.

Always felt they'd failed her.

Always wanted to find a chance to make it up to her.

Now the chance had come.

Jason gave them a solution.

No money needed.

No effort needed.

Just let me "rest for a year."

The morning of the surgery, Mom and Dad came to the hospital.

Mom's eyes were red and swollen. Clearly, she'd cried all night.

Dad's lips were trembling, but he forced out a smile.

"Ruby, don't be scared. After this surgery, you'll be fine."

"Okay," I said.

Jason came too.

"Ruby, hang in there. After the surgery, I'll take you to see the ocean."

"Okay," I said.

I lay on the gurney, wheeled into the operating room corridor.

The corridor was long, the lights bright.

Mom followed behind, walking until she reached the "Family Stop Here" sign.

"Ruby! Mom will wait for you outside!"

I turned my head and looked at her.

"Mom."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Mom froze for a moment. Tears fell.

"I love you too."

I turned my head and was wheeled into the operating room.