The day my twin sister, Jade, got her rejection letter from Juilliard’s dance department, the entire family gathered around to comfort her. I stood quietly in the corner, staring at the acceptance notification glowing on my phone screen. I was about to tell my parents that I had made it in. But then, my phone buzzed. It was a FaceTime call—from my own number, dated ten years in the future. “Do not tell them you got into Juilliard!” My future self on the screen looked exhausted, her voice trembling. “The moment you tell them tonight, Jade won’t be able to handle it. She’s going to jump from the roof of our apartment building.” “You will spend the next eight years of your life paying for her ‘tragedy.’ And on the tenth year, Mom and Dad will make sure you get into a car accident so you can never stand on a stage again. They will steal your life to pay for Jade’s.” “Believe me, Pearl. Our parents have never loved you.” My eyes widened in pure disbelief. The camera on the screen tilted down, revealing my future self’s empty wheelchair. My legs were gone. Before I could scream, the call disconnected. Right then, my parents finally remembered that I had applied to Juilliard too. Mom rubbed Jade’s back, whispering gently, “Sweetie, look at your sister, Pearl. She only applied because she wanted to copy you. No matter how bad you think you did, she’s always there to make you look good.” Dad pointed a finger at me. “Pearl, you didn’t get in either, right?” Thinking of the chilling FaceTime call from my future self, my heart sank into an icy abyss. I shook my head slowly. “No. I didn’t get in.”
Hearing my rejection, Dad let out a sigh of relief, a familiar, predictable smile playing on his lips. “See, Jade? You only feel bad because you hold yourself to such high standards.” “Look at your sister. She failed, and she doesn’t even care.” I watched my family ignore my existence, the joy of getting into the top dance school in the country completely evaporating. “She’s always been pathetic,” Jade sneered, wiping her tears. “She shouldn’t even be compared to me.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them that I was better than her. But the warning from ten years later echoed in my mind, and I slowly clamped my mouth shut. Mom patted Jade’s shoulder. “Exactly. Our Jade has been winning local dance trophies since she was a little girl. I know you’ll get in next year.” With that, Mom took a shiny Tiffany & Co. bracelet out of her pocket and clipped it onto Jade’s wrist. Then, her eyes flicked to my bare wrist. She sighed. “Pearl, you need to start putting in some effort. This bracelet is a reward for your sister’s hard work. You can’t keep being the disappointment of this family.” I lowered my head. Growing up, Jade was always the star. No matter how hard I tried, I was always “just a bit short.” A bit short on looks, a bit short on intelligence, a bit short on talent. Today was the very first time I had actually beaten Jade. I got into Juilliard. But I was still “just a bit short” of getting my parents’ love. “Pearl, you don’t think I’m being unfair, do you?” Mom asked, her voice dropping. I shook my head. “No.” My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. “Good,” Mom said. “If you really can’t do anything else, you can just prep for the SATs again with Jade next year. It’ll save us some trouble.” “No,” Dad interrupted before I could even reply. “Her situation is different from Jade’s. She’s just not built for dancing. Prep courses would be a waste of money.” I knew what Dad meant. He thought I was too short. Unlike Jade, who supposedly had the “perfect dancer’s body.” I had heard this my entire life. Even my ballet instructors used to sigh when looking at me. “Your proportions aren’t ideal, Pearl. Your legs are too short. You two are twins, but why couldn’t you inherit even half of Jade’s physique?” They always stopped there, but I knew the rest. Why are you so useless? My parents believed my desire to dance was just a desperate attempt to copy my sister. Whatever she had, I had to grab. But it wasn’t like that. I just didn’t want to be left behind in the dark. Jade always got the custom designer tutus, the newest pointe shoes, and the spotlight with our parents’ standing ovations. Meanwhile, if I asked for a single pair of shoes, I was told I was wasting their hard-earned money. For this Juilliard audition, I had trained until my toes bled. I had ruined dozens of shoes in secret. And I made it. But to them, I was still the trash sister. Dad tossed a local community college brochure onto my lap. “Stop trying to ride on your sister’s coattails. Just apply to a local college nearby. That way, we can keep an eye on you.” I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. “Okay,” I whispered. But under the table, my fingers slid across my phone screen, officially clicking “Accept Offer.” Juilliard was three thousand miles away in New York. Once I left… I was never coming back.
I went back to my room and started packing my suitcase in silence. I opened my closet. Out of dozens of clothes, only three or four faded t-shirts actually belonged to me. Mom always said, “You two are twins, just share your clothes.” But I had highly sensitive skin. Wearing cheap polyester gave me painful red rashes. They never believed me. Even if they found out I got into Juilliard, they would never love me. I knew that now. I dropped the clothes back into the closet. I packed only my absolute essentials. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Mom. “Pearl, come down to the Italian restaurant down the street. We’re celebrating Jade’s decision to try again next year. We need to support her.” I opened my bedroom door. The apartment was completely empty. They had already left without me. They could have walked down together as a family of four. But they “forgot” me again. I wanted to say I wasn’t going. But realizing these were my last few days here, I swallowed my pride. “I’ll be there.” When I arrived at the restaurant, the table was loaded with lobster, oysters, and shrimp—all of Jade’s favorites. I was highly allergic to seafood. But they chose to ignore it. “You’re twins,” Dad had said years ago. “She’s fine, so why are you acting so dramatic? If you don’t want to eat, don’t. More for Jade.” I was used to it. The pain didn’t even register anymore. I pulled out a chair and sat down. Jade’s plate was piled high with shrimp Mom had personally peeled for her. In front of me, there wasn’t even a fork or a glass. Dad was busy pouring watermelon juice for Jade. The three of them looked like a perfect, happy family. I was just a ghost sitting at the edge of their frame. Jade smirked. “Dad, how much allowance did you send me today?” “I got $1,000 via Venmo. Pearl, you’re going to college, so you must have gotten more, right?” I looked at my Snapchat. There was a single pending transfer of $20. I didn’t accept it. Mom placed another lobster tail on Jade’s plate. “Your sister is eighteen now. She needs to start earning her own money.” Jade pouted, leaning into Mom’s shoulder. “Ugh, really? I don’t want to grow up if I have to pay for my own stuff.” Mom laughed, stroking Jade’s hair. “Don’t worry, sweetie. This $1,000 is for you to spend on whatever you want. Just focus on your prep classes for Juilliard.” “If you need more, just ask.” “Can I have $3,000 more then? I want to go to Cabo with my friends before prep classes start!” Jade squealed. Mom unlocked her phone and sent $5,000 via Apple Pay without a second thought. I saw her contact list on her screen. Jade was pinned to the top. My name wasn’t even saved; I was just a raw phone number. I used to dream about this. Kneeling by Mom’s side, being comforted, having my mistakes forgiven, and getting whatever I asked for. But the reality was, when I asked Mom for $300 to buy a cheap iPad for my schoolwork after graduation, she had scoffed. “If you put half of that energy into your dancing, you wouldn’t be such a disappointment.” Dad tapped his fork against my empty table space. “Why aren’t you eating?” “I don’t have a fork,” I said honestly. “Then ask the waiter for one!” Dad snapped. “Are you a princess? Do we have to serve you ourselves?” I looked down. I wasn’t a princess. But why did Jade get her shrimp peeled and fed to her? When the waiter finally brought my utensils, Mom tossed a single shrimp onto my plate. “There. I gave her some, and now I’m giving you some. Don’t go telling people we favor your sister.” I opened my mouth, but Dad cut me off. “Your mother gave you food. Stop making that miserable face and eat.” “Now.” I picked up the shrimp. I stared at it for a long time before forcing it down my throat. Almost instantly, my throat began to burn. Dad laughed, turning to Mom. “See? I told you she was faking her allergy all these years just to get attention.” They kept laughing and talking. I realized then that to parents who don’t love you, your very life is nothing but a joke. I stood up, my throat tightening. “I’m full.” I turned and walked out.
“Pearl!” Mom called after me. For a split second, a tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. Maybe they saw the hives breaking out on my neck. Maybe they finally realized. But Mom’s voice was cold. “Since it’s summer break, don’t just laze around. Find a summer job.” “You’re an adult now. Act like one.” Jade got a vacation to Cabo, and I got a demand to work. I stood frozen for a second, then pushed open the restaurant door. Actually, I had always been the “mature” one. I gave up my dresses, did the chores, and never asked for a penny. But because they didn’t care, everything I did was a mistake. I took an Uber to the ER alone. I sat in the waiting room, got my prescription, and paid for it myself. I was used to being alone. It shouldn’t have hurt. But then, my phone buzzed with an Instagram notification. Jade had posted. [Craving custom cake, so Mom and Dad took me out! Forever their little princess! ] In the photo, Mom and Dad were laughing, feeding Jade a slice of gourmet cake. I remembered asking Mom for a small cake for my birthday once. Her response had been freezing: “Don’t you want to be a dancer? Where is your self-control? Do you want to get fat?” The doctor’s voice broke my thoughts. “Acute allergic reaction. If you had come any later, your airway would have closed up.” It felt like a physical blow to my chest. “Sweetheart, doesn’t your family know you have a severe shellfish allergy?” Of course they knew. They just didn’t care. I sat in the cold hospital bed with an IV in my arm, watching the fluid drip down. If Jade had been gone this late, they would have called the police in a panic. But my lock screen was completely empty. Not a single text. My knuckles turned white as I clutched my phone. I opened Instagram again. Mom had posted a collage of Jade. [My beautiful girl graduated! Next stop: Juilliard!] I scrolled through Mom’s feed. It was a sea of Jade. My face appeared exactly once—in the background of Jade’s photo. My mother’s colleagues at work didn’t even know she had twins. Once, one of them saw me and was shocked. “Twins? I had no idea!” “Pearl doesn’t look like Jade at all. She doesn’t really fit in, does she?” My parents had just laughed, pulling Jade closer. “Yeah, they came from the same belly, but we wish Pearl had even half of Jade’s grace.” To them, I was just a defective buy-one-get-one-free deal. By the time my IV was finished, it was the next morning. I walked back into the apartment. My parents were in the living room packing Jade’s designer suitcases. Dad glanced up at me. “Pearl, where the hell were you?” “Does it matter? You didn’t notice anyway.” The room went dead silent. Dad’s face twisted in rage. “Do you think because you’re eighteen, you can talk to us like that?” “Staying out all night and now you have the nerve to blame us?” The hives on my hands were still red and swollen. They were looking right at them. But they pretended not to see. I clenched my fists, the skin burning. “It won’t happen again.” Ignoring Dad’s yelling, I walked back to my room. All of my belongings had been thrown into the hallway. In the trash can lay my painted plaster doll—shattered into pieces. I had painted that doll when I was eight. I had won second place in a dance competition, and they had taken us to a craft shop. That was the only time I stood next to Jade on a podium. She had won first. Before I could even finish painting it, they had abandoned me at the shop to take Jade to the movies. Jade walked out of my room, smirking. “Pearl, since you’re going to college anyway, you won’t be coming back much. I’m taking over your room, okay?” I stared at the broken pieces of my childhood in the trash. “Sure,” I said quietly. I was never coming back anyway. Let her have it.
Maybe my lack of reaction disappointed her. Jade’s smirk faltered. “You’re not even going to yell?” When we were kids, I fought for my space. But all I got was: “You’re the older sister, Pearl. Can’t you just let her have it?” Now that I was leaving, there was nothing left to fight for. I grabbed my suitcase and turned around. Dad was blocking the hallway, his face dark. “Pearl, you think you’ve got wings now, huh? You think we can’t touch you?” “Are you trying to run away to scare us?” “No,” I said, my voice completely flat. “Since you aren’t paying for my college, I have to go find a job.” “What is that supposed to mean? You think we owe you something?” Dad bellowed. “You wanted to dance, so we paid $1,500 a year for eight years of classes, even when your teacher told us you had zero talent! We never stopped you!” “And your clothes! You’re the only one complaining about ‘itchy fabric,’ so we had to buy you special outfits. That’s hundreds of dollars!” “Your food, your pointe shoes—you asked me for $800 just last semester! Do you have any idea how much you cost us?” He listed every dollar like a debt collector. My ears started ringing. “Pearl, where is your goddamn conscience?” My eyes burned, but I forced the tears back. “I’ll pay you back. Every single cent.” Dad stepped forward and slapped me across the face. The force of it spun my head around. “With what job? You failed your auditions! You’re nothing!” “Why can’t you be sensible like Jade for once in your life?!” My cheek burned like fire. Jade rushed over, fake tears spilling from her eyes as she grabbed my arm. “Pearl, stop making Dad mad!” “They do everything for us. I never tried to take anything from you!” She never had to try. Everything was handed to her on a silver platter. I shoved her off me. I barely used any force, but Jade stumbled back, crying out as if I had struck her. Mom instantly shielded Jade, glaring at me like I was a monster. “Both of you are my daughters! How could you think I don’t love you equally?” “Pearl, you are a massive disappointment.” But I knew the truth. Some daughters are just worth more than others. I turned around, opened the door, and walked out. Behind me, Dad’s voice roared through the hallway: “If you walk out that door, don’t you dare ever come back!” I pulled out my phone and booked a one-way train ticket to New York. “I won’t,” I whispered.
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