13
My teacher, Ms. Lincoln, gently tapped my
desk. “Why aren’t you going home?”
I looked up blankly, clutching my report card
and my faded backpack.
As I walked out, she called after me, “Jenny,
if you can’t handle math, consider switching
to humanities.”
I stopped. Dad had always wanted me to take
science.
He said the new college grads at his factory, all science majors, made more money as interns than he did as a senior employee. Ms. Lincoln and I talked for a long time. She said everyone has their strengths. I
1
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should focus on what I’m good at instead of
struggling with something I couldn’t grasp.
If I chose humanities, with my current grades,
I could get into the advanced program.
Besides, there were limited spots in the
science classes. I might not even get in, and
I’d end up in a regular humanities class
anyway.
I agonized over the decision all summer, but I
finally decided to follow Ms. Lincoln’s advice.
When the new school year started, I got into
the advanced humanities program.
Mom was overjoyed. She called Dad at the
factory.
A coworker overheard and said enviously,
“Your daughter’s a star, Mark! If my son
could get into that school, I’d be ecstatic! We
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<
spent a fortune on tutoring, and he barely
made it into the second–tier school.”
Dad came home and said Ethan would
definitely get into the top high school.
He’d always been quick to learn.
He told me to keep up the good work or my
younger cousin would surpass me, and that
would be embarrassing.
When I went home on weekends, I buried
myself in my studies, barely listening to him.
Then Ethan got in trouble again.
His middle school teacher caught him playing
video games at an internet cafe.
He was told to bring his parents to school,
but he was afraid to tell Uncle Mark.
He ran away to Grandma’s, pretending he just
wanted to visit, but he really wanted Dad to
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}
go to the school in Uncle Mark’s place.
Dad gave Ethan a half–hearted lecture.
“Ethan, this is the first and last time,
understand? Your cousin got into the best
high school. You’re smarter than her. Just put
in a little effort, and you can get in too.”
Ethan glanced at me with disdain.
But he obediently promised Dad he’d study
hard.
Less than a month later, he was caught at the
internet cafe again.
His teacher called Uncle Mark directly.
Uncle Mark was furious. He smashed dishes
in a fit of rage.
Fifteen–year–old Ethan’s backside was
punished again. He spent two weeks
recovering at home.
く
After that, he seemed to have reformed.
There were no more calls from the school.
Then, during my junior year of high school, I
asked Dad how Ethan did on his entrance
exams.
Grandma glared at me. “It’s your fault! You
stole his luck! He didn’t get into high school!
Mark wasted five thousand dollars on you!
Are you happy now?”
I was speechless. Ethan spent all his time at
the internet cafe. Of course he didn’t get in.
I retorted, “Even if he paid fifty thousand, he
wouldn’t get in! You say I stole his luck? Fine,
I stole it, and I’ll keep stealing it! Let him try
and get it back!”
Grandma was stunned into silence. She raised
her hand to slap me, but I was taller than her
<
now. I easily pushed her hand away.
She ran to Dad, complaining about my
disrespect.
Dad gave me a perfunctory scolding, then
told me to go back to my studies.
He no longer glared at me, but he wasn’t
exactly affectionate either.
14
