Mom Says She's Reborn; Comments Warn Me Not To Trust Her

My mom was reborn. Reborn one week before the end of the world.

She said that in our last life we'd all died in a scorching apocalypse, so this time we had to act early and change the fate where we were all going to die.

Dad remodeled the house, Mom stockpiled supplies, and I called the admissions office and told them I was giving up my spot.

With the apocalypse coming, all I wanted was for the three of us to stay together.

Once everything was ready, we shut ourselves into our separate insulated rooms. And there we stayed for three years.

Until the night of Mom's birthday, when I risked coming to their door and caught the sound of a violent argument.

"How do you even come up with this stuff? Rebirth, apocalypse. Let me ask you, do you actually plan to keep her locked up her whole life?"

Mom shot back.

"We have to at least wait until Bertie graduates. If she finds out, how is Bertie ever supposed to show her face?"

Bertie was the poor student our family sponsored.

I was so angry I wanted to burst in and confront them, when a row of comments floated across my vision.

Don't be rash. Your mom faked the rebirth, but the apocalypse is real. Three days from now, six in the morning, temperatures spike everywhere on earth. Go out now and you're walking to your death.

I pulled my hand back, sulking. Fine, hunker down three more days?

I went back to my room and looked over what was in it.

No question about it. If the comments weren't lying to me, in three days this place would be my best shelter.

But why would they do this? What exactly were they so afraid I'd find out?

Three years. How many three-year stretches does a person even get.

The next morning, before they were up, I slipped out of my room.

The living room looked exactly the way it had three years ago. The one thing that had changed: the photo of the three of us on the coffee table was now a photo of them with Roberta Swanson.

In it, Roberta stood at the university gates holding a college acceptance letter, smiling with all the shine of youth.

I let my eyes travel down the photo, and that one look made every hair on my body stand up.

The name on Roberta's acceptance letter was mine!

So this was why my parents had done it. So she could take my name and go to college in my place.

My legs nearly gave out.

Then I heard movement from my parents' room and darted back into mine.

"Don't you think someone's moved that photo?"

Through the peephole, for one instant my mom's eyes locked onto mine, and I almost cried out.

Luckily, she didn't suspect anything.

"I'm probably overthinking it. Come on, let's go. Bertie's bringing her boyfriend home for dinner tonight, we need to get groceries."

The room went quiet soon after, and in that moment I couldn't hold it in anymore. I sobbed my heart out.

Before this, I had come up with ten thousand reasons for them. This was the only one I'd never imagined.

I couldn't believe it. For the sake of one sponsored student, they could lock their own daughter in a room for three years.

What I'd imagined even less was that the university I'd worked so hard to get into had just been handed to someone else.

Once I'd steadied myself I stepped out of the room again, and this time I looked more carefully.

The umbrella stand by the entryway, the towel and toothbrush at the sink, all of them marked as Bertie's.

Anyone walking into my house for the first time would mistake them for the real family of three.

The tears fell again, useless as ever, except this time the comments weren't coddling me.

Lady, did I spend all that money to watch you cry? Get up and fight back.

If you keep moping like this, not even the gods can save you. Go stock up your supplies right now, this second.

Let me put it plainly, these few are about to be dead people. Can you save the crying for later?

The comments cursed dirtier and dirtier, but somehow I really didn't feel so miserable anymore.

They were right. Right now, staying alive was what mattered.

I grabbed my old New Year's money and went straight downstairs.

"Vivi, is that you?"

At the familiar voice, I turned my head like a machine.

It was him!

Job Cobb, my childhood friend.

The night the SATs ended, he confessed to me, and I said yes.

But right now, I have no idea what we are to each other.

"It really is you?"

Job looked angry.

Before I could get a word out, he grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward the entrance of the complex.

"Why won't you just stay gone? Get lost, and fast. If you upset Roberta, you'll find out exactly what I'll do to you."

The way I remembered it, he never once had a kind look for Roberta.

Now, it seemed, he'd changed quite a bit.

"Let me ask you something. This is my home. Where exactly am I supposed to get lost to?"

Job's expression nearly cracked.

"I don't care where you go, as long as it isn't anywhere near Roberta."

"Besides, weren't you off living it up abroad with some man? That's your home now. What did you crawl back here for?"

So that was it.

I'd been wondering. A living, breathing person vanishes for three years, and no one on the outside notices? Impossible.

Turns out the story they'd fed everyone was that I'd run off with a man, all the way overseas.

But time was tight now, and there was no point tangling with him any longer.

"Listen to me. I'm not going to do anything to Roberta."

Job was thrown by how plainly I said it.

"But you have to agree to one condition. You don't tell a single person I'm back."

I meant to use these three days to give them a gift they'd never forget.

He agreed fast, and after that I went to the supermarket.

Stocking up with my mother before had taught me a few things. I grabbed only long-shelf-life instant food and, above all, water.

I bought a whole mountain of it in a frantic rush, red in the face. The clerk clearly took me for some fool who'd read one too many apocalypse novels, and at checkout even kindly asked if I wanted it delivered to my door.

I glanced at the time. It was still a while before they'd be home, so delivery couldn't have been better.

The new supplies, plus what was already left over, weren't just enough for three months. Three years, and I'd still have plenty to spare.

Beyond the supplies, I brought in a technician to check the insulation equipment in the room.

The materials we'd used back then were the best money could buy, but three years had passed, and I wasn't about to take any chances.

Once I'd seen the technician out, I didn't dare waste a single minute.

I dug out every document that could prove who I was and walked into the Department of Education, straight to the head of the department in charge.

"Hello. I'd like to report that someone stole my place at college by impersonating me."

The Department of Education took the matter seriously and launched an investigation right away.

The facts turned out exactly as I'd reported. Three years ago, Roberta had walked into college under my name.

She'd used my name and enjoyed everything that should have been mine.

One of the officials stood beside me, trying to comfort me.

"Don't be upset. With us and your parents behind you, we'll make sure you get justice."

I smiled, and it came out almost like a laugh at myself.

"It was my parents who did it."

The official was so stunned she couldn't get a word out, but her expression turned grave.

I brought them to my family's front door. The instant it swung open, my father's hearty laugh reached my ears.

"Job, my boy, I've doted on Bertie like my own daughter. You'd better treat her well from now on, or I won't let you off easy."

I couldn't hear what Job said back, but it set the whole room roaring with laughter.

By then the officials were looking at me with a good deal of pity.

I gave an awkward smile, then pushed hard, and the door came open.

Our whole group appeared in front of them, lined up neat as anything.

Everyone in the room froze. Job reacted first.

"Why are you here? We agreed you wouldn't come bother us."

He rushed to shove me back outside.

In the end it was one of the officials who stopped him.

"Vi... Vivi, why... why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be"

My mother came toward me, disbelief all over her face.

Roberta stepped up and hooked her arm through my mother's, her eyes flicking at me with a hint of challenge.

"Vivi, honestly, you should've given us a heads-up before coming."

First time I'd ever heard you needed advance notice to come to your own home.

My father eyed the officials behind me, suddenly stiff and careful.

"And these gentlemen are...?"

One of the officials handed him a document.

"We're here today to verify the matter of Roberta Swanson taking Vivien Harding's place through impersonation."

Roberta's face went white on the spot.

She forced a smile.

"There's got to be some kind of misunderstanding. How could I have taken her place at college?"

I pointed at the framed photo on the coffee table.

"If you didn't take my place, then why is the acceptance letter in your hand printed with my name?"

Job charged forward at once to defend her.

"So she took a picture, so what? Vivien, don't push it."

"For the sake of us growing up together, take your people and get out now, or don't blame me for not being poli"

Slap.

I brought my hand across his face.

"This is my family's business. An outsider like you doesn't get a say. And get one thing straightI'm the one who's not letting you off this time."

Roberta's eyes went red, like she couldn't bear the sight of it.

My mother couldn't stand to see her cry, so of course she stepped in to settle the score.

"Who taught you to go around slapping people? Did all that schooling go straight to the dogs?"

I stared her down.

"You know exactly who got my schooling. To keep me from going to college, you even dreamed up some garbage story about being reborn before the apocalypse."

"Three years. Three whole years. How many three-year stretches does a life get?"

When I finished, the officials in the room wore looks of disbelief, one after another.

Especially the woman who'd received me earlier. Her grip on my hand tightened.

"It was only three years. You're the older sister. What's the harm in giving your younger sister the chance to go to college? You're still living just fine, aren't you?"

So her heart could tilt that far.

The official composed herself.

"It seems there's no need to verify anything. As of now, regarding the case of Roberta Swanson taking Vivien Harding's place at college through impersonation, we are formally filing charges against you."

The comments exploded.

There it is. This is what us VIPs paid to see.

Nail her. Anything less than eight or ten years behind bars, and it's an insult to everything our girl's been through.

One of the patrol officers stepped up to Roberta.

"We've already pulled your enrollment records from that year. Multiple pieces of evidence show you impersonated Vivien Harding to get in. You'll need to come with us to the patrol department for questioning."

My mother wasn't having it. She dragged me over in front of the officers.

"You've got this all wrong. Back then she called the admissions office herself and gave up her spot. We couldn't just watch the opportunity go to waste."

"Vivi, tell the officers right now that none of this has anything to do with Bertie. Tell them you did it of your own free will!"

If she hadn't come up with some garbage excuse back then, why would I ever have given up college?

When I said nothing, she pinched me hard, furious.

The officer frowned.

"Ma'am, a college spot isn't something you buy. It's not hers to hand off to someone else just because she doesn't want it anymore."

"She's suspected of identity fraud in college admissions. She has to come with us to the patrol department for questioning."

The officers led Roberta out, and the whole apartment went cold and quiet in an instant.

My mother stared me down.

"You little menace, why did you have to come out? Now that everything's blown up like this, are you satisfied?"

Satisfied with what.

If I'd had any choice, I'd rather none of it had ever happened. All I wanted was to go to college and live in peace.

Not this. Not being treated like a lunatic by them.

She was about to keep going when my father yanked her away.

"Job's dad found Bertie a lawyer. We're heading over now to see if there's any way to turn this around."

"As for you."

His tone went flat.

"Sit here and think long and hard about what you did wrong."

The moment they left, I went straight back to my room to rest and build up my strength.

The scorching apocalypse was only twelve hours away. I had to stay at full strength to face what was coming.

In the middle of the night, someone knocked on my door.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Five thirty. Half an hour left until the end of the world.

Every nerve in me went alert.

"What do you want?"

There was a long silence outside, and then a voice came, slow and quiet.

"Sis, it's me."

Roberta. How was she out already?

"I know what I did was wrong. Will you forgive me? The patrol officers said if you just write a letter of forgiveness, they won't press charges against me."

"Please, sis. I'm begging you."

I didn't say a word.

The whole apartment sank into dead silence, and my mother was the first to crack.

"Don't you dare press your advantage. Bertie apologized to your face. What more do you want? Get out here and write that letter, now."

I still said nothing, which sent my mother into a rage, kicking at my door again and again.

"Fine. Stay in there for the rest of your life if you've got the nerve."

She cursed and ranted in the living room for a long while before it finally went quiet.

In the dark, my phone lit up. I opened it. A message from Job.

If you're only doing this to Bertie to get back at me, then all you have to do is write the letter, and I'll take you back.

Noon tomorrow. I want that letter of forgiveness at the patrol department. Don't be stupid about this.

I blocked and deleted him on the spot. Better to spend the time checking the doors and windows than waste any more of it on him.

Once I'd finished checking everything, the comments picked up again.

Quick, quick, look at the time!

My head snapped up. The clock pointed dead at six. The apocalypse had begun.