That same day, my parents texted me:
"We're sorry, Cecilia. We just couldn't scrape together enough for tuition and living expenses."
"Maybe defer for a year? Start next fall instead?"
I laughed coldly, didn't bother replying, and boarded my flight.
Orientation day.
I was hauling my suitcase toward the registration building when a luxury car came speeding up and cut me off.
Cynthia stepped out, laughing at something our parents said. All three of them looked like they'd just stepped out of a magazine spread.
I froze.
Our eyes met.
The smiles on my parents' faces turned to stone. "Cecilia?" my father stammered. "What are you doing here?"
