Chapter 1: Graduation Heat and Family Shadows
The night I saw Caleb kiss my sister on the roof, the Texas air pressed down on me like a secret I’d never shake.
Earlier that day, graduation had ended, and Mom left work early to pick up my sister and me. The Texas sun baked the blacktop, turning the inside of our car into a sauna until the AC finally kicked in. You could almost see the heat shimmer off the parking lot. Mom’s sedan was still radiating warmth from baking all day.
"Mom, it’s so hot out," Aubrey complained, but she made it sound sweet, almost like a song. She stretched out the word "hot," grinning at Mom, who just rolled her eyes, amused by the drama.
Mom smiled and promised, "Alright, I’ll take you both out for a nice dinner."
She reached over and squeezed Aubrey’s hand, her diamond ring flashing in the sunlight. I could tell she was just as relieved graduation was over.
"Thank you, Mom!" Aubrey cheered, bubbling over with energy as she hopped into the front seat. I slid into the back, as usual.
Aubrey drummed her fingers on the dash while Mom flipped through radio stations, finally landing on classic rock. Bruce Springsteen’s raspy voice faded out as I buckled in and slouched low, wishing I could just disappear into the sticky leather seats.
The AC blasted my face. I stared out the window at crowds of students, all looking like they’d just finished a marathon. Hugs, high-fives, parents snapping pictures—guys tossing their caps and laughing too loud. The air was thick with sweat and relief.
I’ve always been the quiet one. Unlike my sister, who’s all light and laughter, I sometimes wonder if I’m just part of the scenery—a faded extra in every family photo. Aubrey? She’s the one who makes every shot worth taking.
Up front, Mom and Aubrey chatted, their voices a steady hum. "How do you think you did on your finals?" Mom asked.
"Definitely over 1500," Aubrey replied, oozing confidence. She caught her own reflection in the rearview, flipping her hair like she was on TikTok. She’s practiced that move since we were kids.
"That’s wonderful, sweetheart." Then Mom glanced at me. "Natalie, what about you? You should have no problem getting into college, right?"
Aubrey twisted in her seat to look at me. I fiddled with a loose thread on my jeans and replied, "Yeah."
My voice barely rose above the AC, but Mom nodded, satisfied. Aubrey pressed her lips together like she wanted to say more but held it in.
Aubrey’s always been the golden child: science star, beautiful, piano and guitar, always top three in class. Homecoming Queen. Her Instagram is all sunlit selfies, prom dresses, and science fairs—she’s the school’s star, teachers’ favorite, the girl everyone talks about.
Neighbors called her the "miracle kid" at barbecues, and even the church ladies asked about her college apps.
People like Aubrey never look down on anyone. So she always assumed I was still the Natalie from freshman year—the one who barely passed, who cried over every setback.
She didn’t see the late nights, the coffee-stained flashcards, the way I’d clawed my way up from the bottom.
Mom sighed. "Getting into college is good enough. You’re a liberal arts kid—work hard in college and maybe take the civil service exam."
She meant a government job: safe, stable, the kind of thing relatives brag about at reunions. She caught my eyes in the rearview, her smile gentle but tired.
Aubrey changed the subject, all sunshine again. "Mom, where are we eating?"
Her voice bounced like she’d never worried about college a day in her life.
"Same place as always," Mom said, eyeing the red light. "Your Aunt Lisa is there too. When you fill out your college apps, you can ask her for advice. Isn’t her son at Northwestern?"
A lump crawled up my throat. Northwestern. The word bounced in my head like a dropped marble.
I swallowed hard, breath catching.
Outside, the sunset smeared the sky orange, like spilled Fanta across the clouds. The city skyline gleamed gold. As we passed the post office, the American flag fluttered in the breeze.
I heard Aubrey whisper, "Then... is Caleb going to be there too?"
Her voice was hopeful, almost nervous. I picked at a chipped spot in my nail polish, pretending not to care.
"He’s home for summer break," Mom replied as she started the car. She sighed, "He’s grown into such a handsome young man."
Her words hung in the car, heavier than the humidity. I stared out the window at the flickering taillights, pretending not to listen.