Chapter 4

My homeroom teacher knew how things were at home, and she asked if I needed help.

I thought it over carefully and realized I didn't.

She applied for a school subsidy on my behalf, waived my tuition, and got me free run of the cafeteria at lunch.

That gave me more time to spend on studying.

As for home, ever since they believed I'd really put rat poison in their food, they didn't dare touch their chopsticks until I touched mine.

Even talking at home, they kept their voices down, terrified of setting me off.

When you've got nothing to lose, you don't fear the people who do.

For me, getting into college and building a better future stood above everyone else.

Anyone who got in my way could go die.

But my parents wouldn't give up.

I had just finished the last hard math problem when someone told me they'd gone up onto the roof of the building next door.

A crowd of students had gathered below to watch, my father sitting on the edge of the railing while the school officials, drenched in sweat, tried to talk him down.

My father screamed himself hoarse:

"I'm not coming down. You won't let me live, so I won't live at all!"

My mother sat on the ground, slapping her thighs and wailing.

"Life's been so hard on us. We've got no other choice."

The principal had it hard too, dealing with something like this right before retirement.

"Please, calm down, sir. Whatever it is, we can talk it through."

Hearing that, my father perked up.

"Not unless you expel my daughter, Sybilla Dickerson. Otherwise I jump."

Dragged up by my homeroom teacher, the first thing I heard was my father demanding the school expel me.

My hands clenched, and when I looked at him, it wasn't the way you look at family. It was the way you look at an enemy.

My father grew more and more worked up.

"The family owes so much money. How does she have the nerve to keep sitting in school? Get out and work, pay off the debt, that's what actually matters!"

My homeroom teacher was the first to refuse.

"Sir, come down first, let's talk this through properly. Sybilla has real potential. Once she's in college, she'll earn far more money."

She tried to reason with him and appeal to his heart.

But my father was past caring.

The debt collectors were on him every day, and lately the beatings had gotten worse. If he didn't pay soon, he was afraid they'd really beat him to death.

If his daughter went out to earn money, he'd have the stake he needed to turn things around.

He took a step closer to the edge.

No one dared speak.

The officials looked at me with blame, with the eyes of people staring at a problem.

My mother stood up and moved to my father's side.

Where my father used force, my mother used the soft blade.

"Sybie, your dad and I really can't afford to keep you in school. Your father has no job, my health is bad, and we still have to raise your little brother. He's the one who carries on this family. He can't not study. But if you keep going, this whole family falls apart."

"I'm begging you. Drop out."

The dean leaned in and murmured in my ear:

"Just agree to your mom first. Get them down first."

I didn't react.

Give in once, and you give in every time.

Today they could use this to make me drop out, and next time they'd use the same thing again.

Because it worked.

And for a situation like this, the correction center had handed me the standard answer long ago.

My mother was still shouting:

"If you don't drop out, we'll really jump, and then you'll have no parents, you'll be an orphan!"

Everyone was waiting for me to react.

At last, I moved.

I stepped forward and knelt down.

"Go ahead and die, Mom, Dad."