You Should See Me in a Crown

It’s been three days since I got the email, and the only solution I’ve come up with is to sell one of my nonessential organs to pay for school in the fall. That, or take a gap year and work with my granny at the nursing home where she’s a CNA. I can earn some money to help cover expenses around the house, reaudition for the spot and the scholarship that comes with it, and maybe next fall will be my time. I’ll be a year behind all my friends, a year delayed on all my dreams, but it’s the best-the only-option I have.

My brother, Robbie, throwing a sock still warm from the dryer at me is the only thing that keeps me from full-on anxiety spiraling like I’ve done every other day this week when I’ve thought too hard about next year.

“What?” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Did you say something?”

He bumps his hip into mine gently. We’re folding laundry while Granny’s at
work and Grandad dozes in his rocker on the front porch, and the monotony of
the chore is almost soothing to me. Or at least it was soothing, you know, before I
started thinking about how my life has been completely derailed.

“I said you’re being mad spacy.” He folds a pair of dress pants he wears when he has a debate meet and drops it into the basket. “You gonna tell me about the scholarship, or do I have to keep pretending like I didn’t see you reading the rejection email over breakfast two days ago?”

“Ro.” I flop down on the couch and put my face in my hands. Of course Robbie knows. “I was going to tell you. I just needed… time.”

“Liz. Lizzie.” His bare foot nudges at my bunny slippers until I look at him. I wrap my arms around my stomach, the sleeves of my mom’s old Pennington Penguins crewneck warm and extra soft from years of wear. “Look, we can fix this. Money has never stopped us before. You know Granny and Grandad will-”

Sell the house, is what I don’t let him say. I know what this looks like if I tell Granny and Grandad the truth. They’ll sell the house, move into an even smaller space, and use all the money to make sure I get to go to my dream school for four years. I won’t let that happen.

We’ve lived in the same boxy brick house on the edge of town for as long as I can remember. And it used to be pretty tight, three bedrooms for five people. The five of us have always been the “small and mighty Lightys,” my granny used to say. My mom busted her butt to raise us practically on her own after my dad left, and my grandparents did the same to raise us after she got really sick. We work hard, “And it’s three hours away.” He scratches at his eyebrow, understanding. “Far enough to feel like you’re really gone but not too far to come home if things get really bad with my SCD or something.” His smile is a little sad as he adds, “Right?”

I won’t lie to him, because me and Robbie don’t lie to each other. I nod.

I know I could go to Indiana University, my backup, and things might be fine. I might be okay. But I’d be slipping further and further away from the vision I’ve always had, the vision my mom always had, for my future. And that feels like a betrayal I can’t begin to fathom.

“Look. The odds have never been stacked in our favor, but that’s never stopped us before.”

He doesn’t even have to mention all the odds. There isn’t a day that goes by that doesn’t remind me just how bad my odds are in this place. Robbie reaches for the pen that’s constantly tucked behind his ear and flips open the Declaration of Intent again. And right there, on the first signature line, written in his all-caps handwriting, is the name of my official endorser.

“You got three days to get thirty signatures and declare yourself a candidate. You’ve got my vote, big sis. Don’t count yourself out.”