Meanwhile, Kaylee would often bring home mediocre grades and receive effusive praise for simply trying her best or showing a minor bit of improvement in her social studies class. By the time I entered high school, I had fully internalized the belief that I needed to work twice as hard just to receive half of the recognition my sister got for doing nothing.
I joined the competitive debate team and eventually became the editor of the school magazine while taking every single advanced placement course that the curriculum offered. I often studied until well past midnight, fueled by a desperate and lingering hope that my parents would eventually look at me with the same pride they showed Kaylee when she landed a minor role in a local play.
My sister and I maintained a very complicated relationship throughout our youth. I never truly blamed her directly for the way our parents treated us because she was just as much a product of their strange parenting as I was.
However, there was an undeniable and growing distance between us as we aged into our teens. Kaylee grew incredibly accustomed to receiving whatever her heart desired without ever having to lift a finger or face the consequences of her mistakes.
When she accidentally crashed her first vehicle at sixteen, which was a brand new luxury sedan, my father simply replaced it with an even better model the very next afternoon. When I had previously asked for a small loan to help purchase a reliable used car for my commute to my part time job, he told me that I needed to learn the value of a dollar and save up myself.
The most agonizing memory of my entire childhood occurred during my senior year of high school. I had been named the valedictorian of my class, which was an achievement that represented four years of relentless labor and personal sacrifice.
The ceremony was scheduled for a Tuesday evening in late May, and I felt a surge of excitement as I prepared to deliver my speech to the entire school. When I reminded my parents about the date over dinner, my mother winced and looked down at her calendar with a sigh.
“Oh, Jordan, that is unfortunately the same night as the grand opening of Kaylee’s new dance studio performance,” she said while looking truly regretful. She continued by saying, “Kaylee has been practicing her solo for months, so surely you understand why we need to be there for her big moment.”
I nodded automatically as the disappointment began to harden into something cold and solid within my chest. “I understand, Mom,” I whispered while pushing my food around my plate.
I ended up attending my own valedictory ceremony entirely alone while sitting among rows of families who were cheering for their children. As I stood at the podium delivering a speech about the power of perseverance, I scanned the vast audience for two faces that I knew were miles away at a dance recital.
That specific night, I made a firm and final decision about my future. I had received a partial scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania, which was enough to make my attendance possible but not enough to cover the high cost of living in the city.
