The day we went back-to-school shopping, my mother spent four thousand dollars on a top-of-the-line MacBook Pro for my sister, Serena. My dad was busy picking out leather Tumi suitcases for her, while my brother, Austin, bought her a pair of Bose noise-canceling headphones. Even Sawyer, my childhood best friend, was kneeling in front of a shelf, carefully comparing smart desk lamps. “Iris’s eyes have been straining lately,” he murmured, adjusting the dial. “This light spectrum is supposed to be the most soothing.” My heart warmed for a fleeting second. But a heartbeat later, he stood up and dropped the box into Serena’s cart. He flashed her that warm, easy smile of his and said, “Don’t stay up too late studying, okay?” I stood there, pushing an empty cart, looking exactly like an unpaid assistant hired to watch their coats. It wasn’t until we reached the register that the cashier looked at me, taking in my empty hands. “Sweetheart, are you not getting anything today?” My mother frowned, looking over at me as if she had only just realized I was standing there. “She already has her old things, doesn’t she? As long as they work for college, it’s fine.” I looked down at the notes app on my phone. Inside was a checklist I had compiled over the past year for my freshman fall. “Laptop, bed canopy, desk lamp, suitcase, sneakers…” Every item had a price written next to it. And one by one, they had been crossed off. Because they said Serena was fragile and needed to be coddled. Because they said my grades were so good that a little hardship wouldn’t kill me. But none of them knew that I had already used my scholarship money to buy a one-way train ticket to another city. They had packed Serena’s suitcases to the brim. But I had finally, quietly, emptied myself from this house. … “Sweetheart, are you not getting anything today?” the cashier at the Target checkout lane asked me, barcode scanner poised in her hand. My mother was in the middle of handing over the shiny new MacBook. Hearing the cashier’s voice, her hand hovered. She turned her head, her brow furrowing with immediate irritation. “Don’t you have your old laptop?” she said, her voice tight with impatience. “College is for studying, not a fashion show. Your old things work perfectly fine.” Austin tossed the Bose headphones onto the counter, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “For God’s sake, Iris, can you not throw a tantrum in public for once? You’re a physics major. Half that stuff is a waste of money on you anyway.” I stood in the chilly, air-conditioned hum of the store, saying nothing. My gaze drifted past them, landing on Sawyer, who was tapping his card against the reader. His other hand was gently stabilizing the sleek box of the Dyson desk lamp. Ten minutes ago, he had been kneeling on the linoleum floor, analyzing the color temperature. He had said, “Iris’s eyes are sensitive. This light is perfect for her.” I had actually thought he meant me. During my entire senior year of high school, I had studied under the dim, flickering light of the hallway just to keep from waking Serena. My eyesight had deteriorated rapidly, my prescription jumping by two whole diopters. But a second later, he had turned and placed the lamp in Serena’s cart. “Your total is four thousand, eight hundred and sixty dollars,” the cashier announced. Before my mother could reach for her designer purse, Sawyer tapped his card. “I’ve got it, Mrs. Charlie. Consider it my early college send-off gift for Serena.” His smile was soft, gentle. When he turned to look at me, there was a comforting, albeit dismissive, familiarity in his eyes. “The lamp is pretty heavy, Iris. I’ll load it into the trunk for Serena first. This weekend, I’ll take you to get those maple bacon pancakes you love at the diner, okay?” I looked down, unlocking my phone. The screen displayed my college checklist. “Laptop, bed canopy, desk lamp, suitcase, sneakers…” I dragged my thumb across the screen, drawing a clean, decisive line through “Desk Lamp”. “No, thank you,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. Sawyer blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected me to turn down the pancakes. Usually, whenever I felt sidelined, a quick bribe of comfort food from him was enough to make me fall back into line, quietly trailing behind him like a shadow. “What’s the attitude for?” Sawyer muttered, a slight crease forming between his brows. He reached out, intending to ruffle my hair. “Serena’s eyes can’t handle harsh light. Don’t make everything a competition.” I tilted my head, letting his hand fall into empty air. “Iris!” my father barked, walking up with a shiny pink Samsonite suitcase. His face darkened. “Sawyer is trying to be nice. Stop being so dramatic.” “Unbelievable,” Austin scoffed. “You’ve been keeping score since we were kids. It’s a damn light. You wear coke-bottle glasses anyway. What difference does a lamp make?” I looked at them. My biological parents, my brother, and the boy who had once sworn he would always protect me. And suddenly, the suffocating ache in my chest simply… vanished. “Let’s go,” I said. I turned around, pushed the empty cart back into the corral, and walked out. The blast of late-August heat hit my bare arms, but for the first time in my life, I felt light. Free. On the drive home, my dad drove. My mother and Serena sat in the back, heads together, going over the user manual for the new laptop. Austin sat in the passenger seat, blasting indie rock through the car’s Bluetooth. I walked up to the SUV door and reached for the handle. But Sawyer had already slipped into the backseat, carefully holding the fragile box. “Scoot over a bit, Iris,” he said, shifting the lamp to the middle. “Don’t squish Serena’s laptop.” The backseat was cramped. I quietly withdrew my hand, sliding in and pressing myself into the small gap between the door and the leather seat. Outside, the suburban streetlights blurred into a continuous yellow streak. The checklist in my notes was completely blank now. Every item had been crossed out. I didn’t need to buy anything anymore. We pulled into the driveway of our brick house. Austin and Sawyer carried the bags inside, leaving a mountain of designer boxes and shopping bags in the living room. “Serena, try on these new Nikes. Let’s make sure they don’t blister your heels,” my mother said, kneeling down to help her change. Serena took a few steps, spinning on her heel with a bright laugh. “They’re perfect, Mom! Thank you!” I picked up my faded canvas backpack and headed for the stairs. “Iris, stop right there,” my mother called out. I paused. She stood up, pointing to the empty cardboard boxes scattered on the floor. “Take these boxes out to the recycling bin. And hand-wash those silk dresses Serena wore yesterday. Make sure you don’t put them in the dryer.” “Okay,” I said quietly, bending down to collect the cardboard. Sawyer walked out of the kitchen with a glass of water. Seeing me on the floor, he frowned slightly. “Mrs. Charlie, Iris has had a long day too. Let the laundry wait until tomorrow.” My mother let out a sharp sigh. “What is she tired from? She spent the whole day walking behind us with her hands empty.” Sawyer sighed, walking over to me. He pulled a small, pink USB desk fan from his pocket. “Since your room doesn’t have central AC, you can use this in your dorm.” I looked at the cheap plastic fan. The packaging was crushed, and it bore a massive Apple logo. It was a free promotional item from Serena’s four-thousand-dollar laptop. This was his consolation prize to me. “Thank you,” I said, making no move to take it. “But I don’t mind the heat.” Sawyer’s hand froze in midair. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. “Iris, it’s just a desk lamp. Are you seriously going to pout about this forever?” “I’m not pouting,” I said, stacking the flattened cardboard and standing up. “I just don’t need it.” “You used to be so sensible. What happened to you?” his voice dropped, carrying a low warning. “Sensible.” That word had been a collar around my neck for as long as I could remember. When I was seven, my grandmother brought me back from her farmhouse in Ohio to live with my parents in the city. Because my birth registration had been delayed by two years, I was placed in the same grade as Serena. Back then, Sawyer had taken my hand, pointed at Serena, and said: “Iris, you protect your sister, and I’ll protect you.” But over the years, “protecting my sister” had meant yielding everything. I gave up my parents’ affection, my clothes, my bedroom. And in the end, I gave up him, too. Looking at Sawyer’s familiar face, I felt a strange, cold detachment. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m still very sensible.” I walked past him with the cardboard boxes and stepped out the door. When I came back inside, I went straight to my room. It was the small, converted storage closet under the stairs. I pulled my scuffed suitcase out from under the bed and began packing my few old clothes. At the very bottom lay a train ticket. Destination: Boston. My phone buzzed. I took a deep breath and answered. “Iris, sweetie? Have you eaten dinner yet?” My grandmother’s raspy, comforting voice filled my ear, her thick Midwestern accent instantly making my throat tight. “I ate, Grandma,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I went into town today and wired two thousand dollars to your account,” she whispered, her voice dropping as if sharing a secret. “It’s from my egg sales and what I saved from the pension.” “You’re going off to college, sweetie. You need some nice clothes so those city kids don’t look down on you.” A tear slipped down my cheek, hitting the back of my hand. In this house, two thousand dollars couldn’t even buy Serena’s desk lamp. But for my grandmother, it was months of living expenses. “Grandma, I got the full merit scholarship. Tuition and housing are completely covered. I don’t need money.” I pressed a hand over my mouth to choke back a sob. “Take it,” she insisted gently but firmly. “You need a safety net when you’re far from home. You worked so hard for this. Your parents might not care, but your Nana does.” I bit my lip until it bled. “Okay.” “Iris, once you get to the city, don’t look back,” she sighed. “Don’t end up like me, stuck in the mud of this small town forever.” “I won’t, Grandma. I promise.” After hanging up, I took out the train ticket and tucked it carefully inside my journal. Through the door, the muffled sounds of Serena practicing the piano floated in, accompanied by Sawyer hum-singing along to the melody. I closed my journal and pushed the suitcase back under the bed. Just a few more days. The next afternoon was the graduation celebration lunch. The private dining room at the country club was packed with relatives. “Tom, your Serena did so well! Getting into Ohio State is no small feat,” my uncle raised his glass, beaming. My father waved his hand, his face flushed with pride. “She’s always been delicate. To have her stay local at a great school is more than we could ask for.” “OSU is fantastic. It’s close enough that she can come home for Sunday dinners,” my aunt chimed in, then turned her gaze to me. “What about Iris?” The room fell into a brief, heavy silence. I was looking down, picking at the white rice in my bowl. My mother cut in immediately. “Iris applied to OSU too. Having her close by means she can look after Serena.” The relatives nodded in approval, murmuring about how sweet it was. My hand holding the fork didn’t stop. I continued to mash the rice into tiny grains. What they didn’t know was that on the day of college applications, Sawyer had stood behind me, watching me pull up the OSU portal. But the moment he turned his back to fetch Serena a glass of water, I had quietly hit delete. And in the first-choice slot, I had typed in: “Massachusetts Institute of Technology.” “Iris, stop daydreaming. Go ask the server for another pitcher of hot water,” Austin kicked the leg of my chair. I set my fork down and stood up. As I stepped out of the private room, I heard Sawyer’s smooth, reassuring voice. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Charlie. Iris and I will take good care of Serena on campus. The three of us will grab dinner together every day, just like old times.” I walked into the restroom, turned on the cold water, and let it run over my hands. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Thick, black-rimmed glasses. A faded grey t-shirt. A pale face from endless sleepless nights of studying. This was the Iris they knew. An accessory, a shadow who didn’t need a life of her own. When I returned to the table, the food was fully served. Sawyer, wearing a plastic glove, was putting peeled shrimp onto Serena’s plate. “Dip it in the sauce first. Your stomach is sensitive, so don’t eat too much seafood.” Serena gave him a playful pout. “I know, Sawyer. You’re such a nag.” Sawyer smiled, peeled another one, and dropped it into my bowl. “Here, Iris. Have some.” I looked down at the shrimp. The dark vein was still intact, barely peeled with any care. Just like his affection for me. Always messy, always an afterthought, cheap and diluted by his devotion to someone else. “I don’t eat seafood,” I said, using my fork to flick the shrimp out of my bowl and onto the tablecloth. Sawyer’s face instantly went cold. Austin slammed his hand on the table. “Sawyer went out of his way to peel that for you. Who the hell do you think you are, throwing a tantrum here?” My mother’s expression hardened. “She’s been like this since she was a child. Always jealous of whatever Serena has, and now she’s picking fights over a piece of shrimp.” Serena’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry, Iris. I won’t let Sawyer peel shrimp for me anymore.” I didn’t look at them. I pulled a napkin from the dispenser and began blotting the moisture on the tablecloth. “I’m allergic to shellfish.” The room went dead silent. Sawyer’s hand froze, his fork hovering in midair. He stared at me, bewildered. “Allergic? But you’ve eaten it before.” Looking into his confused eyes, I felt a bitter urge to laugh. When I was ten, he had taken me out to a seafood buffet. It was his treat using his allowance, and he had only invited Serena and me. Serena had whined for lobster, and he had peeled a mountain of it for her. To avoid making him feel bad or wasteful, I had forced myself to swallow a few bites. That night, my body broke out in hives, and a raging fever took over. I spent the night scratching my skin raw on the hard cot in my closet-room. The next day, when he came over to play with Serena, my mother told him I was just being lazy and sleeping in. Since that day, I had never touched seafood again. “Yeah, I ate it,” I said, tossing the wet napkin into the trash. “And I almost died in that storage room.” My mother’s hand stiffened on her wine glass. She cleared her throat. “For heaven’s sake, do you really have to bring up ancient history in front of everyone?” Sawyer stared at the discarded shrimp on the table, a sudden panic flickering in his eyes. “Iris, I… I didn’t know…” I put down my fork. “I’m full.” I sat quietly for the rest of the lunch, listening to the relatives toast to Serena’s bright future. Sawyer sat beside me, silent for the remainder of the meal. He kept glancing my way, waiting for me to play my usual part—to nudge him, to whisper an apology, to beg for peace. Instead, I kept my eyes on my phone, staring at the digital acceptance letter from MIT. The crimson and grey seal glowed softly on my screen. The day before move-in was pure chaos. Three massive suitcases lay open across the living room floor. My mother was cross-referencing a long checklist, ticking off items for Serena. “Sunscreen, bug spray, vitamins… Oh, we still need to pack Serena’s skincare routine.” “Mom, don’t forget the smart desk lamp,” Serena said, eating cherries on the couch and pointing toward the coffee table. “I won’t. Sawyer bought it specifically for you. I’m putting it right on top.” My father walked out of the study with a stack of hundred-dollar bills. “Put this cash in Serena’s inner pocket. We don’t want her running short on anything at school.” I walked out of the kitchen carrying a trash bag. As I passed through the living room, my mother didn’t even look up. “Iris, run down to the drugstore and buy some blister pads. Serena’s new shoes might rub. And while you’re out, drop her silk dresses off at the dry cleaners.” I stopped. The weight of the trash bag pulled at my hand. “I don’t have time.” My mother’s pen stopped. She snapped her head up. “Excuse me?” I looked her dead in the eye. “I need to pack my own things.” Austin let out a loud sneer from the armchair. “Pack what? Your three raggy t-shirts? Throw them in a duffel bag and call it a day.” “Besides, OSU is right down the road,” my dad added. “If you need something, you can just drive back and get it.” I ignored them both, walking straight to the entryway to put on my sneakers. As I opened the door, I ran into Sawyer, who was carrying a load of shopping bags. In his hand were two sleek dorm lanyard card cases. One was a sparkling pastel pink; the other was a plain black plastic one. “Iris, where are you going?” he asked, blocking my path. “Taking out the trash.” He held out the black card case. “Here, this is for you. Serena wanted the pink one, so I gave it to her.” “OSU move-in is tomorrow. I’m driving you both. Since you don’t have much luggage, you can help carry Serena’s pink suitcase.” I stared at the black plastic case. It was the exact same look he had when he bought the lamp. Completely certain I would accept it. Completely certain I would be grateful. But this time, the script had changed. “No thanks. You guys go ahead,” I said. I stepped around him, tossed the trash into the bin outside, and walked back to my room without looking back. The next morning, before the sun had even touched the horizon, I grabbed my suitcase. I slipped quietly through the front door. The house was dead silent; they had stayed up late celebrating Serena’s big transition and were fast asleep. The autumn morning air was crisp and biting. I dragged my squeaky suitcase down the empty street. By 7:00 AM, I was sitting at the gate of Logan International Airport. I got my boarding pass and sat in the departure lounge. My phone began to vibrate violently. It was move-in day at OSU. In the family group chat, my mother sent a barrage of frantic texts. “Iris, where the hell are you? I told you to help your sister carry her bags. Did you lose your hearing?” “You had to sneak off on your own, didn’t you?” “Get your ass to the south dorm residence hall right now!” Austin posted a photo of Serena smiling and flashing a peace sign in front of the OSU campus sign. “Some people just love to throw bitter tantrums because they’re jealous.” Then, a direct message from Sawyer popped up. “Iris, stop acting out.” “Which dorm are you in? Serena’s bed is set up, but she needs help hanging her curtains. Come over and help her out.” “I’ll buy you sushi tonight to make up for earlier, alright?” The airport intercom chimed. “Delta Flight 412 to Boston is now boarding…” I looked at Sawyer’s text: “to make up for earlier, alright?” I tapped his profile icon. Clicked the top right corner. “Block.” Then I went back to the group chat, selected every member of the Charlie family, and blocked them all, one by one. I stood up, picked up my worn suitcase, and walked toward the jet bridge. Outside the window, a plane tore through the clouds, ascending into the wide, endless blue.
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