Rising From My Sister's Shadow

After college admissions, my twin sister, my boyfriend, and I traveled to the state university to register, with our mother along for the trip.

We came out of the train station right into the noon glare.

Suddenly Debbie cried out that she'd left her sun hat back on her seat.

Michael James frowned and looked at me.

"Debbie's got a UV allergy. You're the fast one, run back to the car and find it before she breaks out in a rash again."

I pushed against the crowd streaming the other way, finally found the hat, and ran back to the exit drenched in sweat.

The four of them who'd been waiting there were gone.

A voice message from Michael popped up on my phone.

"The car that came for us only seats four. There was way too much luggage, no way to squeeze everyone in."

"Your sister can't stand out in the sun with her allergy, so we headed to the hotel first. Just take the subway over on your own."

The subway station at the start of term was packed shoulder to shoulder. Dragging two huge suitcases, I got shoved down twice by the crowd.

My knees were bruised purple. It took me three hours to reach the suite they'd booked.

I'd barely reached the door when I heard the laughter inside.

Through the half-open gap, I saw Mom fastening a diamond necklace around Debbie's neck.

Michael stood beside her, gently smoothing her hair.

"Your aunt picked this out just for you as a back-to-school gift. It looks so pretty on you."

Not one of them mentioned that today was my first day of school too.

I dropped the sun hat into the trash and dragged my luggage away from the hotel.

Since they loved each other so much, I wouldn't intrude on the party.

Getting from the hotel to campus used up the last of the cash on me.

I finished the enrollment paperwork alone, hauling two enormous suitcases, only to be stopped by the dorm supervisor when I went to collect my room key.

"You're Audrey Fox? Your name seems to have been crossed off."

She pointed at the red line through the sign-up sheet, looking troubled.

Something dropped inside me. Before I could ask, a familiar voice came from behind me.

"Sis, you finally made it!"

Debbie came trotting out of the single-occupancy apartment building behind me and hooked her arm through mine, all affection.

"Let me help you carry your stuff over to the dorm."

Before I could react, Michael appeared too.

He stepped quickly to Debbie's side, pulled a tissue from his pocket, and easily wiped the thin sheen of sweat from her temple.

"I told you not to run. What if you got too much sun?"

Only then did he frown, as if he'd just noticed me.

"Audrey, haul your luggage up yourself. Don't wear Debbie out."

The two of them leaned into each other like no one else was there, one pouting, one soothing.

I looked down at my bruised, purple knees and was suddenly hit with an exhaustion I couldn't name.

I opened my phone. My advisor had sent a screenshot from the system backend, right there in front of me.

Applicant: Audrey Fox.

Reason for application: qualifying for a premium single dorm on the basis of state and municipal proof of financial hardship.

Transfer record: transfer of the dorm to younger sister Debbie Fox, applied for by Audrey Fox herself.

Reason for transfer: applicant is in good health; younger sister Debbie Fox is frail and needs rest and recovery.

The account used was my student card account.

And the password was known only to Michael.

I stood there holding the phone, dazed.

The pain in my knees had faded to pure numbness now.

After I'd carried all my luggage up into the old dorm building.

I came back down and saw Mom, who'd rented a place near campus to stay close and support Debbie, standing at the foot of that single-occupancy apartment building, pressing a thick wad of cash into Debbie's hand.

"Go get all four pieces of your bedding set replaced with new ones. Don't shortchange yourself."

She turned, saw me, and her face darkened in an instant.

"You little debt-collector, what are you standing around here for? You'd even fight your own sister over a dorm room? How can you be so selfish!"

Michael stood beside them stroking Debbie's head, deaf to my mother's cursing, as if the three of them were the real family.

It struck me then that it had always been this way.

Debbie had a mild UV allergy, so the whole family fussed over her like she was the center of the universe.

And me, I'd taken on every chore in the house since I was little, only for Mom to jab a finger in my face and call me born with a servant's life, made to wait on others.

Michael had once been the only exception.

Sophomore year of high school, on a rainy night, I burned up with fever, and he carried me on his back through three streets to find a clinic.

Back then I really did think he was a god sent to save me.

But later, through me, he met Debbie.

He started memorizing every one of her follow-up appointments, remembering which medications she was allergic to, even lining up to book specialist appointments for her on his own.

When I complained, hurt, all I got was the two of them asking the same practiced question.

"What's wrong with a guy running errands for his girlfriend's sister? You're being way too petty."

That line left me with nothing to say.

"Sis, what are you spacing out for? Go pay your housing fee already, or you'll have nowhere to sleep tonight."

Debbie's voice pulled me back to reality.

I drew a deep breath, my voice dry and cracked as I looked at my mother. "Where's my ID card?"

Her eyes darted away.

I pressed on.

"Did you use my ID card to cash out the entire twenty-thousand-dollar student loan that just came through for me?"

I'd gotten the text saying the loan had landed the moment they abandoned me at the train station.

Mom flew straight into shamed fury.

"So what if I did! I used that money to buy your sister premium supplements. She's so frail, of course she needs the extra nourishment!"

She looked me up and down with contempt.

"It's just a little money. Go wash dishes in the cafeteria and earn it back yourself. What's the big deal!"

I looked at her, so tired my eyelids were trembling.

In the end, I tugged the corner of my mouth into something like a smile, said nothing, and turned back toward that run-down eight-person dorm.

Behind me came my mother's furious, flustered shouting.

"What kind of attitude is that! Think you're all grown up now? Who do you think you're giving that face to!"

That night, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head.

When I came out, Michael was standing there with a thick envelope in his hand, as if he'd been waiting for me.

He stepped closer and took my hand before I could pull away.

Gently, he pressed a bandage over the raw spot on my palm, where I'd scraped it hauling luggage that afternoon.

"How'd you get so careless?"

"Why act so tough? If it was too heavy, you could've just called me."

He held my hand, and there it was again, that familiar tenderness, that ache for me.

For a second, I almost believed everything at the hotel and the dorm had just been my imagination.

He took the moment to slip the cash-filled envelope into my hand.

"Housing and living expenses. I've covered it for now. Don't wear yourself out."

The old warmth, the old care, pried open the emotions I'd held clamped down all day.

The hurt, the anger, the exhaustion.

Everything I'd forced down came flooding up all at once.

The tears slid out with no warning, and I bit down hard on my lip, but I couldn't stop them from streaming down my face.

Michael froze. He hesitated, then raised his hand to wipe my tears.

I turned my head away, but my shoulders shook so hard I couldn't stop them.

He sighed, a little helpless, and patted my back softly.

"Okay, okay, stop crying."

"I know you feel wronged. The dorm thing was my fault, I didn't run it by you first."

I only cried harder.

He paused, and his voice went even gentler.

"Audrey, hear me out. I know your mom used your student loan to buy things for Debbie. That's exactly why I brought you the money. I just need you to sign one thing."

He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and spread it open in front of me.

Consent Form for Voluntary Withdrawal from the Freshman Top Scholarship Competition.

My crying stopped dead.

"Debbie's grades aren't great, you know that."

There was a pleading note in Michael's voice.

"If she can't get this scholarship slot to build up her resume, she won't even make it into student council. This really matters to her."

"Tomorrow you go to the advisor's office, say you're withdrawing on your own, and let her have the slot. Okay?"

"Just be good, be reasonable. I'll take care of you from now on. You don't need to fight for any of this."

One by one, I loosened my fingers from around the envelope.

I lifted my head, looked at his face, and laughed, my voice gone hoarse.

"Okay."

Michael finally let out a breath, patted my head, satisfied, and turned to head downstairs.

He knew that slot was the only ticket into our school's national key research laboratory.

He wasn't asking me to give up money.

He was putting a price on it, trying to use a few thousand dollars in cash to buy out my entire future.

Just to gild Debbie's resume.

As orientation training was wrapping up, Debbie came bouncing into our dorm, a program sheet in her hand.

"Sis, for the welcome show rehearsal, what are you going to wear?"

I was at the desk revising a report, and the question caught me off guard.

"I never got a rehearsal notice."

Debbie covered her mouth, feigning surprise.

"Huh? No way! Michael didn't tell you?"

She waved the program sheet in her hand.

"He handed it all over to the teacher yesterday. The dance you spent a week choreographing through the night, plus the music you'd edited. All of it."

She paused, then added:

"Except the lead creator and lead dancer, that's my name on there."

My blood turned to ice.

Right in front of me, Debbie sent Michael a voice message.

"Michael, how could you not tell my sister about switching the lead dancer? She's going to be upset!"

He replied in seconds, a doting warmth in his voice.

"My bad, my bad. Forgot to mention it to your sister. I figured I'd let her rest more, so I kept her out of the whole exhausting rehearsal thing."

"Besides, isn't our Debbie the one who wanted to shine at the welcome show? Taking a ready-made dance saves time and effort."

Debbie shot back at once, puffing up with indignation:

Fine, then I won't dance at all! I'll give the lead back to my sister!"

The whole flirty back-and-forth turned my stomach.

Within ten minutes, Michael came racing to the bottom of our dorm building, two iced lattes in hand.

Debbie ran straight down, poked a finger at his chest with a coy little pout, and scolded him for deciding things on his own.

Michael hunched his shoulders and coaxed her, his whole face begging for forgiveness.

Then he turned his head and saw me standing at the top of the stairs.

Audrey, you heard all that, right? It's just one dance. You're the older sister. You wouldn't be that stingy, would you?"

I clenched my fists and said in a low voice:

It's my original choreography. I'm going to make that clear to the advisor."

The words were barely out of my mouth when my mother, who'd come specially to bring Debbie soup, rushed over from the side.

She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face.

How dare you!"

All we're asking is that you back your sister up as a dancer, help out backstage, and that's too much for you? If you dare go ruin this, I'll march right into the department and tell them my own daughter is an ungrateful little snake!"

I couldn't get out a single word.

In the end I just went numb and followed them to the rehearsal room.

That dance studio had once been the one Michael set up for me. He'd said it was mine, mine alone.

But now, standing at the door, I found the keypad code had been changed.

Through the window I could see the place crammed with Debbie's personal things.

The nameplate on the door that used to read "Audrey" had been torn off, clean.

In its place was a selfie of Debbie flashing a peace sign.

Backstage at the welcome gala, the noise was deafening.

Michael and Debbie stood at the makeup mirror, heads together, laughing as they ran through the routine one last time.

One moment he was handing her warm water, the next he was crouching down to fix the hem of her skirt, gentle and attentive as a perfect boyfriend.

And I'd been assigned to a corner like some odd-job hire, sorting the props the backup dancers were about to use.

The whole scene was too much to look at, so I tugged my cap low and pretended I wasn't there.

Audrey."

Michael suddenly turned around and asked, offhand:

Why don't you change too and go up as a backup dancer?"

Before I could open my mouth, Debbie jumped in, thrilled:

Yes, do it! I want to see you in that backless dancer costume. You'd look amazing!"

Michael's eyes rested on me for a second.

Then he turned and went to the wardrobe rack, pulling out that costume with its pitiful scrap of fabric.

Go put it on."

He held the costume out to me, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I stared hard at it, and the skin on my back seemed to start burning.

There, I carried a scar from high school, from the time I took a metal bar for him against a pack of thugs.

It coiled across my whole back like an ugly centipede.

Michael knew about it.

He'd once held me and sworn he'd protect me his whole life, that he'd never let anyone see the parts of me that weren't perfect.

And now, over one careless line from Debbie.

He was going to put my ugliest wound on display with his own hands.

I looked at this man in front of me, with the same eyes and brow I remembered, and yet so strange to me that he made me cold.

Something stung behind my nose.

I looked at the dancer costume and let out one bleak little laugh.

I took it, tore it in two with everything I had, and hurled it into the trash.

When I turned back, I saw Michael lifting a necklace from a velvet box, fastening it gently around Debbie's neck, then bending down to press a fond kiss to her hair.

That necklace. Countless times he'd pointed at it in the jewelry store window and told me it would be my gift for our third anniversary.

So it turned out that was another lie too.

Wow, Michael, you and your girlfriend really are a perfect match!"

The class president from the next class over came over, genuinely admiring.

He glanced at me in my corner and asked Michael, curious:

Is she the stagehand you hired? Pretty hardworking."

The air froze instantly.

Someone quickly filled him in on who I was, and the president just stood there, mortified, at a loss.

Michael's and Debbie's faces went very ugly too.

But I was the one who spoke, mocking myself, letting everyone off the hook:

You're not wrong. The two of them really do make the better pair."

I didn't want to stay and let them humiliate me any longer.

I texted my advisor that I wasn't feeling well, then went back to the dorm alone, early.

I'd barely reached the foot of the building when I spotted my mother chatting away happily with the dorm matron.

The second she saw me, she frowned and asked, impatient, "Why are you back? How did Debbie do on stage?"

When she learned I'd left early, she couldn't hold it in. Her voice shot up.

"You're absolutely useless! I sent you to cheer your sister on. You can't even clap? I raised you all these years for nothing!"

The matron seemed unable to watch it any longer, and stepped in to smooth things over with a compliment. "This girl's a good one. Simple, down-to-earth."

My mother gave a cold snort, and right in front of every passing student, she started tearing me down at full volume.

"Simple? She's twisted inside, is what she is! Eaten up with jealousy! If she hadn't thrown herself at him and refused to let go, why would a boy as fine as our Michael ever have looked at her?"

Then she turned around and gushed about Debbie, her whole face lit with showing off. "Now, our Debbie's a different story. Beautiful and brilliant, and everyone loves her! Michael even booked out a whole floor at a five-star hotel to celebrate her, throwing her a whole victory banquet!"

The matron looked confused. "Isn't Michael Audrey's boyfriend?"

My mother waved a dismissive hand.

"Oh, please, a man looking after his girlfriend's little sister, that's only natural!"

"At the end of it all, our Debbie's just the lucky one. People can't help but adore her."

I stood there listening to those poison-tipped words, unable to move for a long moment.

In the end, under the matron's eyes and the strange looks of everyone around me, I climbed the stairs in silence.

I no longer had the strength, or the will, to argue anything.

Back in the dorm, as if something guided my hand, I opened my mobile banking app.

I tapped into the joint account Michael and I had set up together, the one for the down payment we'd promised each other.

We'd agreed to put money into it every month, saving up for our future.

But the number glowing red on the screen stabbed at my eyes.

Balance: 0.00.

I opened the transaction history and scrolled through it, line by line.

One charge from that jewelry store we'd once browsed together, for exactly the price of the necklace he'd given Debbie.

Another, from the five-star hotel where he'd said he was throwing Debbie her victory banquet.

He'd used the money we'd saved to plan our future, and spent it on his present with another girl.

I screenshotted the emptied account and sent it to Michael, with one line: "I don't want the money."

He didn't reply.

Half an hour later, his social media updated.

In the photo, he and Debbie sat in a lavish private room, heads bent close together, cutting a cake.

The caption read: "May my princess stay carefree forever."

The moment I saw that photo, my tears broke through again.

After they'd run dry, I calmly opened the chat and sent Michael one last message.

"Let's break up."