As he passed my mother, he raised his eyebrows smugly, clearly enjoying the moment.
I acted like I didn’t see it and followed him out the door.
My mother reached out, trying to stop me one last time.
“Think carefully, my daughter,” she warned. “Going with your father might cost you your life.”
I glanced back at her, emotionless, and shook off her hand.
“I’ve studied for this day for nine years. Even if knives fall from the sky, I’m going.”
She opened her mouth again but said nothing.
She only sighed as I walked away.
Unlike her, my father was thrilled to be the one sending me off.
He pedaled the old bicycle with energy, as if he’d been waiting for this day his whole life.
At the station, he gave me a rare piece of advice.
“Camila, study hard, okay? Don’t let your mother or me down.”
I suppressed a bitter smile, nodded, and boarded the bus.
The driver was standing at the front, counting passengers.
I didn’t need to count.
There were 19 of us—every one of us a girl.
In our village, boys and girls take the college entrance exam at different locations.
I didn’t know if it’s like that elsewhere, but my mother always said it’s how it’s done here.