The Suitcase They Threw Out, The Ticket I Bought To Leave Chapter 02

The Suitcase They Threw Out, The Ticket I Bought To Leave Chapter 02

The next day, someone rang the doorbell. I opened it, and my neighbor and childhood friend, Hunter Grant, barged right in.

Grinning without a trace of worry, he grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the door. “Wally, your dad asked me to pick you up for Duke. My folks are dropping me off, so you can ride along. It’ll pass the time.”

Hunter grabbed my suitcase sitting by the wall, just like he used to hoist my overloaded backpack for me back in grade-school.

Everything changed once Hunter blew past everyone academically. He transferred to the private middle school and ended up in the same classes as Nadia. We never walked together again.

I froze, about to stop him.

“Why’s this so light?” Hunter frowned halfway to the car, doubling back.

“The lock’s broken. I was about to throw it out,” I explained.

He didn’t buy it, his expression turning sharp. “You’re not skipping move-in just because they wouldn’t drive you, are you? Wallace, throwing a tantrum to compete with Nadia is going too far. Dad begged me to come get you. Accept the olive branch, for everyone’s sake.”

His accusation left me speechless, my throat dry.

Dad had read my text, but none of them believed I meant it. They all assumed I was throwing a childish tantrum.

“I’m not throwing a fit.”

Mid-sentence, the already-fractured suitcase gave way. The metal latch snapped, and the case gaped wide open.

Hunter went quiet, realizing he’d misjudged me, his tone softening. “We were supposed to go to Duke together. That was your dream, Wally. Don’t you remember?”

Duke housed one of the nation’s top finance and computer science programs.

Nadia was the most popular girl in the humanities classes, and Hunter was the coding prodigy. Ever since elementary school, they’d dreamed of attending Duke side-by-side.

Back then, lagging far behind in class, I’d dreamed of it too. I wanted to follow Hunter, and more than anything, earn my parents’ attention.

My parents had said more than once, “If our daughter gets into Duke, we’d be over the moon.”

When SAT scores came out, I rushed to tell them I’d scored 1570.

Mom and Dad were busy comforting a sobbing Nadia, barely glancing my way. Nadia, top of her grade, had only gotten 1550. “There’s no way you pulled a 1570 from a public high school.”

I pulled up the official score screenshot to prove it. Mom swatted my phone out of my hand. “Can’t you see your sister’s heartbroken? Stop waving around some fake edited screenshot to show off.”

Nadia’s old beat-up phone hit the floor, the screen spider-webbing with cracks.

In their minds, I was nothing but a hopeless underachiever. No matter how early I woke to study, no matter how many shifts I worked through school breaks while cramming for exams, no matter how many pens I went through, filling box after box—they refused to believe I could shine.

A car horn blared outside.

“Alright, Wally. We can buy whatever you need once we get to campus,” Hunter said, noticing my hesitation. He pulled me toward the car. “Today is the final move-in day. We can’t be late.”

He ushered me into the backseat and shut the door firmly.

Mr. and Mrs. Grant were both in the car. I swallowed my refusal. Fine. I would go, at least to collect my things.

“Hi, Mr. Grant. Hi, Mrs. Grant.”

Mr. Grant smiled and told me to get comfortable. Mrs. Grant, sitting in the front passenger seat, said nothing. She was angled toward the window, her expression unreadable.

I thought about what Mom had said earlier about the brutal sun hitting the front seat. If I wasn’t here, Mrs. Grant would be sitting comfortably in back.

Fidgeting in my seat, I worked up my courage. “Mrs. Grant, would you like to switch places?”

“No!” She caught herself once the sharp word left her mouth, softening her excuse. “James isn’t used to driving this far. I need to keep an eye on the road.”

I fell silent. I reached out, about to tap Hunter’s sleeve for support—and spotted the pink hair tie wrapped around his wrist. It was Nadia’s limited-edition Hello Kitty one, her favorite.

Hunter was typing away at his phone, that same soft, fond smile on his face. The chat window showed Nadia’s cat-themed profile picture.

Nadia: [When are you going to confess to Wallace?]

Hunter: [I don’t like Wallace. If I confess to anyone, it’s you.]

I pulled my hand back before I touched his sleeve and stared down at my lap.

The boy who’d promised to always carry my bags had broken his promise.