I Drew the Blank Straw for Eighteen Years Chapter 01

I Drew the Blank Straw for Eighteen Years Chapter 01

The next morning, Mom and Dad had the three of us draw straws like always.

No surprise—I drew blank again.

Neither of their faces so much as flickered.

Like they’d already known.

That evening, Mom and Dad took Vivienne and Marielle out to celebrate.

I sat on my hard, lumpy secondhand mattress, eating a plain roll of bread.

I’d barely opened my phone when Marielle’s story popped up.

A private room at the restaurant. A massive two-tier cake on the table.

Piped in frosting across the top:

[Happy 18th Birthday to our darling daughters, Vivienne and Marielle!]

Vivienne and Marielle stood in matching custom dresses at Mom and Dad’s sides, silver charm bracelets glinting on their wrists.

At twelve, Mom and Dad had promised us:

“On your eighteenth birthday, you’ll each get a silver bracelet, to circle you in happiness, safe and sound.”

Now I finally understood—that promise had only ever been for them.

I was never part of it.

The clock on the wall crawled past one in the morning before I heard voices outside my door.

The quiet living room stirred with footsteps.

Vivienne knocked on my door.

“Hey. This is from Mom and Dad.”

She handed me a plastic bracelet.

The price tag was still on it. $18.

I laughed, cold and short, and set it down on my crooked table cobbled together from scrap wood.

Every year, after they finished celebrating with the other two, they’d stop somewhere on the way home and grab me a “birthday present.”

At eight, a plastic hair barrette, $5.

At twelve, a stuffed animal, $10.

At sixteen, a notebook, $12.

This year was no different.

The voices outside faded. I stared up at the gray ceiling, wide awake.

A few days later, Vivienne and Marielle both got their acceptance letters—Ivy League-caliber schools, both of them.

Vivienne through the standard track, Marielle through an art scholarship with a lowered GPA requirement.

At lunch that day, the table was set with Vivienne’s favorite honey-glazed ribs, Marielle’s favorite garlic butter shrimp.

There was even a pot roast for Julian, our neighbor’s son.

My beef and tomato stew never made it onto that table.

Mom kept piling shrimp onto Marielle’s plate until it looked like a small hill.

Dad set a rib on Vivienne’s plate.

“Vivienne, sweetheart, this one’s just for you. Eat up, you’ve gotten thin lately.”

Then he turned to me.

“Wren, you should really go learn a trade. Something to fall back on.”

Julian nodded along.

“Yeah, Wren. You’re not like Marielle and Vivienne. Your grades aren’t going to get you anywhere good—might as well plan ahead.”

My grades?

It had been a month since scores came out. Not one of them had asked.

I looked up and pushed back.

“They’re just not out yet. That doesn’t mean I did badly.”

The words had barely left my mouth before Mom, Dad, Marielle, and Julian burst out laughing in unison.

Mom said it lightly, like it cost her nothing.

“What kind of good school could you even get into at that godforsaken Fairview?”

Something in my chest cracked.

Back in the high school lottery, Vivienne and I had both gotten into Rutherford Central—the district’s top school. Only Marielle got assigned to Fairview, out in the suburbs.

But Mom and Dad decided Marielle was too young to live away from home, and made me give up my spot.

Marielle stayed at Central, with its top-tier teachers while I dragged my suitcase off to Fairview alone.

I could only go home once a semester.

Back then, every time I drew the blank straw and sat there gloomy, Julian would quietly show up with a cupcake, just for me.

When I was upset about losing my spot at Central, he’d ruffled my hair and pressed a little star-shaped pendant into my hand. Told me I could still shine at Fairview.

I’d held onto that kindness for eighteen years.

But somewhere along the way, the warmth in his eyes stopped being for me.

A thousand things I wanted to say rose up in my throat. All I could do was mechanically shovel mashed potatoes into my mouth.

Nothing came out.

They were off discussing the college send-off party, buzzing with excitement.

I didn’t hear a single word of it.

My phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up.

[Ms. Bennett: Wren, your acceptance letter’s here, come by whenever you get a chance. Ashcombe already deposited your full-ride scholarship into your account. Go check it.]

[Me: Got it. Thank you, Ms. Bennett.]

I locked the screen and tucked the secret away.