My Family Ignored Me, So I Chose to Serve Her Country

Dylan Pruitt and I graduated from college the same year.

He landed an internship at a tech company.

To celebrate his graduation and his new job, Mom and Dad booked two tables at a five-star hotel.

Every relative was there.

I was the only one they didn't invite.

Like a speck of dust nobody noticed, I'd been completely forgotten by them.

I stayed home eating instant ramen.

Dylan posted about the dinner online, showing off.

"Thank you to my loving mom and dad. I'll work hard, and I promise I'll never let you down."

The photo below it was that table's ten-thousand-dollar spread of luxury seafood.

I waited in silence, waiting for Mom or Dad to call me, to text me.

I waited until it was very, very late.

It was obvious. No matter how hard I studied, no matter how many awards I won, in their eyes I would never exist at all.

Before long, I finally made up my mind and dialed that number.

"Hello. I've decided."

"I'm going to serve my country!"

...

I took out a "special document" from the drawer. Right after I graduated, my mentor had brought me to meet someone.

The person claimed to be from the "Special Research Institute," which existed to comb through universities for the up-and-coming super geniuses.

I didn't know more than that. All my mentor told me was that a great deal of the nation's cutting-edge technology came from there.

The person on the phone sounded pleased. "Say a proper goodbye to your family. Once you leave, it won't be a simple three or five years."

Not long after I hung up.

They came home, full and satisfied.

They saw me.

Mom and Dad froze, a little startled, and asked, "How did you get home before us?"

I said nothing.

Dylan laughed. "Mom, Dad, you didn't invite my sister."

The two of them exchanged a glance.

"We didn't invite her?"

"Nope."

"Never mind. It was just a meal. No big deal."

Hearing that, my heart went colder still.

Right.

In their eyes.

Whether I ate, whether I caught a cold, whether my grades were good.

None of it mattered.

The year of the SATs.

I scored second in the whole state.

Mom and Dad took me out for one perfunctory meal.

Dylan barely scraped past passing.

They celebrated like it was a festival, dying to throw a banquet.

From the time we were little, the way Dylan and I were treated was worlds apart.

If Dylan's eyes so much as reddened, he got whatever he wanted.

As for me.

I didn't dare cry.

Because I knew that even if I did cry.

They wouldn't feel a thing for me.

Sometimes I even wondered.

Maybe...

I was one they'd picked up somewhere.

And only Dylan was truly their own.

The next day.

Dylan and I were pulled out of bed first thing in the morning.

Mom told us, smiling.

"We're going to look at cars in a bit!"

I started, thinking they'd changed. Had they finally learned to care about me?

Then Dad slung an arm around Dylan's shoulders.

"Son, which model do you like?"