Dylan Pruitt and I graduated from college the same year.
He landed an internship at a tech company.
To celebrate his graduation and his new job, Mom and Dad booked two tables at a five-star hotel.
Every relative was there.
I was the only one they didn't invite.
Like a speck of dust nobody noticed, I'd been completely forgotten by them.
I stayed home eating instant ramen.
Dylan posted about the dinner online, showing off.
"Thank you to my loving mom and dad. I'll work hard, and I promise I'll never let you down."
The photo below it was that table's ten-thousand-dollar spread of luxury seafood.
I waited in silence, waiting for Mom or Dad to call me, to text me.
I waited until it was very, very late.
It was obvious. No matter how hard I studied, no matter how many awards I won, in their eyes I would never exist at all.
Before long, I finally made up my mind and dialed that number.
"Hello. I've decided."
"I'm going to serve my country!"
...
I took out a "special document" from the drawer. Right after I graduated, my mentor had brought me to meet someone.
The person claimed to be from the "Special Research Institute," which existed to comb through universities for the up-and-coming super geniuses.
I didn't know more than that. All my mentor told me was that a great deal of the nation's cutting-edge technology came from there.
The person on the phone sounded pleased. "Say a proper goodbye to your family. Once you leave, it won't be a simple three or five years."
Not long after I hung up.
They came home, full and satisfied.
They saw me.
Mom and Dad froze, a little startled, and asked, "How did you get home before us?"
I said nothing.
Dylan laughed. "Mom, Dad, you didn't invite my sister."
The two of them exchanged a glance.
"We didn't invite her?"
"Nope."
"Never mind. It was just a meal. No big deal."
Hearing that, my heart went colder still.
Right.
In their eyes.
Whether I ate, whether I caught a cold, whether my grades were good.
None of it mattered.
The year of the SATs.
I scored second in the whole state.
Mom and Dad took me out for one perfunctory meal.
Dylan barely scraped past passing.
They celebrated like it was a festival, dying to throw a banquet.
From the time we were little, the way Dylan and I were treated was worlds apart.
If Dylan's eyes so much as reddened, he got whatever he wanted.
As for me.
I didn't dare cry.
Because I knew that even if I did cry.
They wouldn't feel a thing for me.
Sometimes I even wondered.
Maybe...
I was one they'd picked up somewhere.
And only Dylan was truly their own.
The next day.
Dylan and I were pulled out of bed first thing in the morning.
Mom told us, smiling.
"We're going to look at cars in a bit!"
I started, thinking they'd changed. Had they finally learned to care about me?
Then Dad slung an arm around Dylan's shoulders.
"Son, which model do you like?"
