On the very last day of the Columbia University Early Admission deadline, I discovered that Dante—the boy I had grown up with—had given my hard-earned recommendation letter slot to Bianca. When I finally tracked him down, he was leaning casually against the polished side of his sports car. He flicked a stray ash from his expensive cigar, his expression entirely indifferent. “Bianca’s family is going through a rough patch,” he said, exhaling a thin stream of gray smoke into the freezing air. “If she doesn’t get into a good university, she’ll have to start working right away.” He looked at me, his eyes devoid of any guilt. “Your grades are excellent. Even if you have to take the SATs and apply normally, you’ll still get into Columbia on your own.” My face went completely pale. I stood there, unable to squeeze a single word past the tight knot in my throat. Seeing my silence and the sheer hostility radiating from me, Dante frowned. He pulled open his designer leather wallet, drew out a sleek black card, and held it out to me. “Look, I’ll fully cover your tuition for all four years of college,” he said, his voice laced with impatience. “Think of it as me buying this slot from you. Is that enough?” I stared at the black card glinting between his fingers. A heavy, suffocating silence stretched between us. The recommendation letter I had nearly died to secure was nothing more than a piece of cheap charity to him, something he could put a price tag on whenever it suited him. I didn’t take the card. I simply turned on my heel and walked away. Above us, the sky finally opened up, pouring down a cold, biting rain. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now, Siena?” Dante’s voice sliced through the downpour, instantly turning icy. “Don’t you spend all your time scrounging for scraps and fixing junk at the repair shop just for a bit of cash? I’m offering you real money, so stop acting so damn high and mighty!” My footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. I slowly turned my head back, looking at his face, which was now blurred by the thick sheets of rain and fog. More than ten years of treasured affection, of shared secrets and promises, rotted completely away in that single, agonizing second. A faint, empty smile touched my lips. “Sure,” I whispered, the rain washing the sound away. “Think whatever you want.” … By the time I dragged myself back to the grease-stained repair shop, my phone was already vibrating in my pocket. It was my best friend, Jenny. “Siena! Have you seen the admission list yet?” Jenny’s voice was frantic, practically screeching through the speaker. “How is Bianca’s name on there? Is this Dante’s doing? It has to be!” Listening to her panic, a bitter, hollow laugh escaped my chest. “I already went to see him.” “And? What did that bastard say?” “He said he bought the slot from me.” The line went dead silent. It took a long, painful minute before Jenny finally spoke again, her voice shaking with rage. “He is an absolute piece of trash.” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t find the energy to agree. “What are you doing right now?” she asked, her tone softening with worry. “Working on a car.” “Stop fixing cars! You need to go to City Hall right now and make a scene! That recommendation letter belongs to you! Have you forgotten how much hell you went through just to get the Congressman’s signature?” I shook my head slowly, though she couldn’t see me, and picked up a heavy metal wrench. “It’s useless, Jenny.” “How is it useless? The Congressman promised it to you!” “If Dante’s family could swap my name out once,” I said, my voice deadpan, “they can easily do it a second time.” Another heavy silence fell over the call. Finally, Jenny sighed, her voice laced with pity. “I just saw Bianca’s Instagram post. Dante booked the most expensive hotel rooftop in the city to celebrate her admission.” “I see.” “Siena, you—” “I have to go, Jenny. A customer just pulled in.” I cut the call before she could say another word. Outside, a sleek sedan rolled slowly up to the entrance of the garage. I wiped my damp face with the back of my sleeve, stepped out into the damp air, and knelt down to inspect the worn tread of the tires.
The next day, I went to school to finalize some administrative paperwork and register for the upcoming SAT. As I walked down the crowded hallway, I ran straight into Dante and Bianca. Bianca’s slender arm was wrapped tightly around Dante’s. The moment she spotted me, she gasped softly and shrank back, hiding herself behind his broad shoulders. “Dan, I’m scared…” she whimpered, her voice trembling. Dante immediately stepped forward, blocking my path. His brow furrowed into a deep, defensive scowl. “Siena, don’t go scaring her.” I didn’t look at him. I simply tried to step to the side and walk past. Before I could take a step, his hand shot out, clamping around my wrist with bruising force. “What is wrong with your attitude? Bianca didn’t do anything to hurt you. She had no choice in this! Do you really have to make a scene and make everyone look bad?” I ripped my arm out of his grasp with all the strength I had. “Get out of my way.” My voice was sharp and cold, instantly drawing the attention of the students lingering by their lockers. A tear slipped down Bianca’s cheek, catching the fluorescent light of the hallway. “Siena, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. If you’re still angry… you can hit me. Just please don’t be mad at Dan.” She took a fragile step toward me, bowing her head as if waiting for a blow, presenting herself as the ultimate victim. Dante’s eyes flared with anger. He snatched her back into his embrace, glaring down at me. “Look at what you’re doing to her! Siena, I never realized your heart could be this venomous.” Muffled whispers began to ripple through the surrounding crowd. “Is that her? The girl from the dirty auto repair shop?” “Yeah, I heard the Congressman originally promised her the recommendation, but Bianca got it instead.” “Serves her right. Look at her face—it’s like a block of ice. Who would ever like a girl like that?” “Bianca is so much sweeter. If I were Dante, I’d help Bianca too.” I tuned out the murmurs, keeping my eyes locked on Dante’s cold, dark gaze. “I’ll say it one last time. Get out of my way.” Instead of moving, Dante sneered and shoved me hard. “You’re going to apologize to Bianca right now!” The sudden force caught me off guard. I stumbled backward, my shoulders slamming violently against the hard brick wall of the hallway. A sharp, throbbing ache flared across my back. I slowly lifted my head, staring at him. Dante stared back, his eyes completely empty of the warmth he used to reserve only for me. We had grown up together, sharing every secret, every scrap of food we could find. When he was twelve, his family had exiled him from the glittering high society of Manhattan to this run-down, impoverished town in New Jersey, and on his very first day, he had gotten into a brutal fight with the local street kids. I was the one who had rushed in, brandishing a heavy metal wrench, scaring off the older bullies who were beating him bloody. From that day on, he became my shadow, following me everywhere. He used to complain about the grease and oil covering my clothes, but whenever other kids tried to mock me because I couldn’t hear them, he would fly into a rage and beat them until they begged for mercy. I remember him wiping the dirt from his knuckles, looking at me with fierce determination: “Siena, from now on, I’m the one protecting you.” “Siena, even if your right ear can’t hear a thing, I’ll be your other ear for the rest of our lives.” “As soon as we turn eighteen, we’re getting the hell out of this dump.” Now, he was the one shoving me against a wall, all for another girl. Bianca buried her face in his chest, sobbing loudly. “Dan, please, let’s just go. It’s all my fault anyway.” Dante stroked her hair, his voice softening into a gentle, soothing tone I hadn’t heard in months. “It has nothing to do with you.” He shot me one last warning look, his eyes cold and menacing. Then, he guided her down the hallway, keeping his arm securely around her waist. I stood against the brick wall for a long time before I managed to straighten my spine and force my legs to move forward. On my way to the guidance counselor’s office, I passed the large bulletin board in the main lobby. The school had already posted the photos of the students who had secured early Ivy League admissions. Bianca’s portrait was placed right in the dead center. Beneath her smiling photo, a neat paragraph detailed her achievements: “An outstanding student of exceptional character and academic merit, rising above poverty through sheer resilience.” A dry, mocking chuckle slipped from my throat. The memory of returning to the repair shop on the night of her celebration flashed vividly in my mind. My father had been waiting for me, his breath reeking of cheap whiskey, his eyes wild and bloodshot. “Where’s the cash?” he had demanded, stepping into my path. When I tried to ignore him, his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of my hair and slamming my head against the wooden partition. “I’m talking to you, you deaf bitch! Are you completely deaf now?” My right ear was completely useless, and his roaring voice made my left ear ring with a painful, high-pitched buzz. “I don’t have any money,” I choked out. “No money? I heard that rich boy Dante has plenty of it! You follow him around like a stray dog, so why haven’t you begged him for some?” He backhanded me across the face, the force of the blow sending me crashing to the floor. “You’re hiding it from me, aren’t you? Trying to lie to your own father!” He began tearing through my pockets, his dirty hands ripping at my jacket. I gathered my strength and shoved him away. Infuriated, he kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me curling into a tight ball on the cold concrete. “You little piece of trash!” he spat, towering over me. “I should have left you to rot. Just like your dead mother—nothing but a worthless, cheap bitch!” He reached for a heavy iron tire iron, raising it high above his head. Just as he was about to swing it down, the door flew open, and Dante burst into the garage. Dante had kicked my father across the room with terrifying fury, rushing to pull me up from the floor and frantically checking my face for injuries. “Where does it hurt? Where did he hit you?” I could only shake my head, my body trembling uncontrollably. Dante had stripped off his expensive jacket and wrapped it snugly around my shoulders. “Don’t cry, Siena. I’m here. Nobody is going to hurt you again.” That night, he didn’t return to his family’s mansion. He stayed in the dusty shop, sleeping on our lumpy, broken-down sofa just to keep watch over me. The next morning, he called in his family’s lawyers and had my father thrown into a holding cell. He had looked me in the eyes and said, “Siena, I’ll take care of you from now on.” Back then, I truly believed he would be my harbor for the rest of my life. I didn’t realize that promises of protection could dissolve so easily, leaving nothing but a bitter aftertaste.
During our school’s final SAT practice exam, I scored a near-perfect 1520. Dante scored a miserable 900. He crumpled his score sheet into a tight ball and tossed it carelessly into the recycling bin. “Whatever. It’s not like I actually need the SATs anyway,” he muttered. Bianca was standing right beside him, her eyes shining with pure adoration: “Dan, you’re still so amazing.” Dante laughed, leaning down to pinch her cheek: “Of course! I just have to go back to Manhattan and take over my family’s business. Standardized tests are for normal people.” I walked past their lockers, keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead. “Siena,” Dante called out, his voice sharp. I stopped, but I didn’t turn around. “Are you seriously still throwing a fit over that recommendation letter?” I remained silent, my shoulders tense. “I know you feel slighted,” he said, stepping around to face me. “But you’ve seen Bianca’s situation. She needs this opportunity way more than you do.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a softer, almost pleading register: “Just take the card I gave you. The PIN is your birthday. Whatever you need for college—tuition, rent, books—just charge it to me.” He honestly believed that money could wash away any sin. He thought a handful of plastic and a bank account could erase my humiliation and replace the future he had stolen from me. “I don’t want your money,” I said, my voice flat. “There you go again,” Dante snapped, his patience evaporating instantly. “When are you going to drop this pathetic, useless pride of yours? How much do you even make working at that grease trap of a shop for a whole month? What I’m offering you is more than you’ll ever see in your entire life!” Bianca stepped forward, tugging gently on the sleeve of his jacket. “Dan, don’t be so harsh on Sie,” she whispered, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “She’s just… she’s just not used to having someone help her.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with a patronizing pity: “Siena, I know you must hate me. But I really was out of options. My stepmother… she’s a monster. She would have kicked me out.” Her eyes brimmed with tears on cue, her lip trembling. I watched her flawless performance. Over the course of our senior year, I had watched this exact same play unfold a hundred times. She was always the helpless, suffering victim in front of Dante. And I was always cast as the cruel, unfeeling villain. “Dan already said he’ll make it up to you,” Bianca continued, her tone taking on the self-important air of a lady handing out scraps. “Whatever you want, just tell us. We’ll take care of it.” A cold, sharp laugh finally slipped from my throat. It was the first time I had smiled in days. Dante stared at me, visibly taken aback. “What are you laughing at?” “I’m laughing because the two of you are such a perfect match,” I said, looking from his face to hers. “A cheap bitch and a loyal dog. I hope you stay together forever.” Before he could react, I turned and walked away. “Siena! Get back here!” Dante’s furious roar echoed down the hallway, but I didn’t spare him a single glance. That night, Jenny sent me a screenshot over text. It was a photo of Dante and Bianca at a high-end lounge downtown. Dante was holding a microphone, singing under the dim neon lights, while Bianca snuggled against his chest, her face glowing with happiness. In the background, their wealthy friends were holding up a massive, custom-made banner. “Congratulations to our girl Bianca on her Columbia admission! Wishing Dan and Bianca a lifetime of love!” Jenny’s text arrived a second later: “Siena, don’t look at it. He isn’t worth your tears.” I clicked my phone screen off and threw it onto the mattress. I pulled a stack of SAT practice books toward me, opened to a blank section of advanced calculus, and began solving the equations one by one. Only when my mind was entirely consumed by numbers and formulas could I drown out the hollow ache in my chest.
A week before the official SAT administration, school went on study leave. While the other students were out partying or cramming at high-end prep centers, I was still stuck in the auto shop, grease under my fingernails. On a humid Tuesday afternoon, the roar of a high-performance engine shattered the quiet street. Dante’s customized Aston Martin pulled up right in front of the garage doors, the bass from his stereo rattling the dusty windows. He climbed out, leaning casually against the driver’s side door, and waved a hand toward me. “Siena, get over here.” I didn’t lift my head from the engine bay I was working on. His footsteps drew closer, his shadow falling over my workspace. “I’m talking to you. Are you deaf in both ears now?” He reached out to grab my hand, but when he saw the thick black grease coating my skin, he quickly pulled his fingers back in disgust. “Go wash up. You’re coming with me.” “Where?” I asked, my voice dry. “Bianca wants to go to the beach. I’m taking the yacht out. You’re coming along.” I wiped my brow with my shoulder, keeping my back straight. “I’m not going.” “Still throwing a tantrum?” Dante let out a sharp, irritated breath. “I went out of my way to drive down here and invite you myself. Don’t be ungrateful.” “I said, I’m not going.” “Why the hell not?” “I need to study.” “Study?” Dante laughed, the sound dripping with genuine amusement. “Are you kidding me? You don’t need to study. You could probably get a 1500 with your eyes closed.” He paused, his expression softening just a fraction. “Just come. Think of it as a break. Bianca said she wants to make things right with you.” “I have nothing to make right with her.” Dante’s remaining patience snapped. “Siena, I am asking you one last time. Are you coming or not?” “No.” He stared at me for several tense seconds, a dark, mocking grin slowly spreading across his face. “Fine. You want to play the stubborn martyr? Go ahead.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick band of crisp hundred-dollar bills, and threw them directly at my feet. The green notes scattered across the grease-stained concrete floor, drifting into the puddles of dirty oil. “That’s your monthly salary. I already paid your boss off for your time. Take the cash and get out of my sight. Stop acting like an eyesore.” I stared at the money lying in the dirt, my hands clenched into tight fists. “Not enough?” He pulled out another stack, tossing it down like confetti. “Is this enough to buy your miserable pride?” Uncle Mark, the elderly owner of the shop, rushed out from the back office when he heard the shouting. “Master Dante, what is going on here? Let’s all calm down and talk.” Dante didn’t even spare Mark a glance. His eyes remained locked on mine. “Pick it up.” I didn’t move an inch. The passenger door of the Aston Martin opened, and Bianca stepped out. She hurried over to Dante’s side, clutching his arm with a worried expression. “Dan, please don’t do this. You’re going to scare Siena.” She knelt down on the dirty concrete, her expensive designer skirt dragging in the dust, and began picking up the scattered bills one by one. “Siena, please don’t be mad at Dan,” she pleaded, looking up at me with tear-filled eyes. “He only did this because he wanted us to hang out.” She stood up and tried to press the crumpled, dirty money into my hand. “Please, Siena. Just come with us. I don’t want your relationship with Dan to ruin because of me.” I looked at her tear-stained face, then shifted my gaze to Dante. Dante stood tall, his jaw set, showing absolutely no remorse. In his mind, this was an act of high charity. He believed he owned the right to dictate my life, my choices, and my dignity, simply because he had the means to pay for them. I turned my back on them and walked straight into the dark backroom of the shop. Behind me, Dante’s sneering voice carried clearly through the open door: “Look at her. Always the same disgusting temper. Give her an inch and she takes a mile!” A moment later, the Aston Martin’s engine roared to life, tires screeching as they sped away. Uncle Mark walked into the backroom, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Siena, child… don’t take it to heart. Master Dante has always had a short fuse.” He picked up the remaining bills they had left on the counter and gently pressed them into my hand. “Take it. Your family… you need the money, Siena.” I gripped the stack of cash. The paper notes still smelled faintly of Bianca’s sweet, artificial perfume. I walked over to the rusted metal sink, turned the faucet on high, and began scrubbing my hands with harsh industrial soap. I washed them over and over, scrubbing until my skin turned raw and bright red, but the smell of that cheap perfume refused to wash away. That night, my father returned to the shop. He snatched the money from my drawer and smashed half the tools in the garage in a drunken rage. I didn’t hesitate. I dialed 911. The police came and dragged him away in handcuffs once again. Before they shoved him into the back of the cruiser, he spat in my direction, his face twisted in venomous rage. “You ungrateful little bitch! Calling the cops on your own father! You’ll burn in hell for this!” I watched the red and blue lights fade into the damp night, my chest completely hollow. So this was what it felt like to be completely, utterly alone.
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