Whenever they needed to sacrifice my needs for Grace, they would trot out the same brainwashing rhetoric I'd heard so many times I could recite it in my sleep.
"Grace is sickly, and she had a pitiful past. Just give in to her."
Nonetheless, I didn't care anymore, because knowledge gave me my greatest power. I used my free time to study ahead, and I skipped grades at 12 years old to become the youngest high school student in our city's history.
Suddenly, I became a household name in town—everyone knew the Lane family had a genius daughter.
Dad's phone was constantly ringing with calls from the upper echelon of society, people wanting their children to befriend me or even arrange engagements. But again, Dad canceled all those social gatherings to spare Grace's feelings. He never considered how beneficial connections in high society could be for my future.
Of course—how could I possibly compare to his precious darling Grace?
The day my acceptance letter arrived, the principal and newspaper reporters came to our home personally to deliver it. But all they saw were the backs of my parents as they hurriedly left.
Grace would never allow me to capture my parents' attention. She'd merely claimed she had a headache, and my parents had rushed her to the hospital without even taking time to greet the principal.
Despite having long been disillusioned with my parents, I still felt a twinge of hurt and helplessness in that moment.
The principal, Kate Weber, looked at me deeply and said earnestly, "Our school doesn't normally have boarding students, but you can apply to the school in advance if you want to live on campus. I'll make arrangements for you."
Ms. Weber's hand, which was gently stroking my head, was so tender. It had been so long since I'd felt care and concern from an adult that I couldn't help shedding tears in front of her.
I then gained the two people who would truly matter in my life because of those tears.
As the new school term approached, I eagerly moved to the dormitory, away from this home devoid of warmth. On the day I left, Grace again dispatched my parents to the hospital.
Though Jake was home on vacation, he showed no intention of helping me pack. He watched coldly as I bustled about, finally dropping a parting comment, "Finally, some peace in this house."
I lifted my last suitcase into the cab without sparing Jake a glance. The room Ms. Weber had prepared for me was excellent. It was a comfortable studio apartment, seemingly converted from spare faculty housing.
I spent a day making the dormitory clean and comfortable, then went to the bookstore to buy supplementary materials. High school coursework would be more demanding, and I needed to work even harder to outperform everyone.
On the first official day of school, I faced the expected ostracism from other students. They'd heard the principal had made an exception to arrange dormitory housing for me and immediately labeled me as someone with connections.
"Well, well, here comes the 12-year-old genius."
"Is the prodigy scared of living alone in the dorm? Won't you cry for your mommy at night?"
"Let's put the prodigy next to the water cooler. She might need to mix some baby formula between classes."
These self-important students rejected me because my existence overshadowed their brilliance. Such bitter remarks might devastate a typical teenager, but they seemed childishly amusing to someone who had undergone a rebirth like me.
Though young, I was tall for my age. I walked straight to a seat in the middle of the classroom and sat down. More discordant voices rose almost immediately.
