Canvas of Rebirth Chapter 1

At our senior year pep rally, the entire graduating class stood lined up on the athletic track.

"If your parents ever hired a private tutor for you, take one step forward."

A large portion of the crowd shuffled ahead.

I didn't move.

"If your parents have taken you on an international vacation, take a step forward."

I stayed planted.

"If your parents paid for you to develop a special talent or hobby, take a step forward."

Only a few kids were left near the starting line. We awkwardly lowered our heads.

"If your parents have always viewed you as their pride and joy, take a step forward."

I gripped the cuffs of my sleeves. The question physically ached.

When I finally looked up, I was the only one left on the starting line.

People turned around, looking at me with curious pity.

Looking past the crowd, I saw my twin sister standing at the very front.

She was one step away from the finish line.

And I couldn't even leave the start.

With the blast of the principal's whistle, we were told to sprint to the end.

My sister, Maya, crossed the finish line effortlessly.

I trailed far behind, gasping for air, feeling like my lungs were about to collapse.

"Life isn't fair, and all you can do is sprint to your own finish line!" the principal announced over the megaphone.

This senior rally ended with me crossing the line dead last.

My twin sister, Maya, was first.

She jogged over, smiling, and grabbed my arm.

"Come on, Mia, it wasn't that tiring," she said breezily.

But those questions had forced a 300-yard gap between us.

A 300-yard chasm carved entirely by our parents' blatant favoritism.

I awkwardly pulled my arm away.

By the time late-night AP study hall ended, it was 9 PM.

Mom was waiting at the school gates, as always.

She instinctively reached out, took Maya's backpack, and cheerfully opened the passenger door for her.

I suddenly felt a surge of quiet rebellion.

I didn't open the back door to slide in like I usually did.

I just wanted to see if Mom would even notice I wasn't there.

I stood on the sidewalk. Waiting.

The engine revved. The car drove off and vanished around the corner.

I started counting the minutes.

I wondered how long it would take for Mom to realize the backseat was empty.

Thirty minutes passed. My legs grew stiff.

Finally, my phone buzzed. Mom.

"Mia, why haven't you come upstairs yet? Maya and I are eating late-night takeout, we aren't waiting for you."

My tears fell, shattering silently against the pavement.

She hadn't just failed to notice me missing at the school.

She had driven all the way home, parked, and walked inside without ever glancing in the rearview mirror.

The string in my heart that had been pulled taut for seventeen years finally snapped.

I opened the calendar app on my phone, highlighting Graduation Day in red.

One hundred days. I just had to endure one hundred more days.

Then, I would leave. And I would never come back.