1: 1

My parents won the lottery, and just like that, I no longer had to worry about college tuition.

"A hundred and twenty grand. Fifty pays off the mortgage, twenty buys Toby Sullivan a car, twenty covers Renata Sullivan's four years of college, and the last thirty is for our retirement."

I counted it out, again and again. There was no share for me.

Under my startled stare, my parents fished out a thick stack of yellowed IOUs.

"When you were one, hospital stay. Fifty-two hundred."

"At seven, martial arts gym registration. Eight hundred."

"At eight, surgery. Thirteen hundred."

"You were sickly from the day you were born. Do you have any idea how much money you cost this family? And you've got the nerve to ask for a share of the lottery?"

I stared at the crooked signatures on each page. It was true. Every last one had been spent on me.

But the hurt sat heavy in my chest all the same, because my brother and my sister never had to sign a single IOU.

"Then how am I supposed to pay for school?"

"Student loans. We're not stopping you."

Their voices were flat.

"We're getting old. We have to keep something set aside for ourselves."

I turned and went back to my room and looked at the recruitment brochure my guidance counselor had sent, for a special early-admission program.

Tuition fully waived. A monthly stipend on top of that.

Since in this family I was the only child who had to "pay it back" just to be allowed to live,

then I would go far away.

From here on out, distance and silence between us. Debt cleared, and no one left to hold on to.

1.

I stared at that stack of IOUs.

From age one to nineteen, thirty thousand in total.

My father's tone was sharp.

"There's a limit to what a parent owes you. Food, clothes, a roof, getting around, that's already more than enough."

I said nothing.

I'd heard the line more times than I could count.

Beyond the bare basics, food, clothes, a roof, getting around, I wasn't allowed any extra expense.

The moment there was one, I had to write an IOU.

But I'd been frail and sick since I was small, and medicine alone cost plenty.

By then they were already getting ready to head out.

"Come on, big dinner out. We're celebrating!"

My father and mother had changed into new clothes just for the occasion.

My brother and sister looked thrilled too.

"Sis, you're not coming?"

My sister, Renata, glanced at me.

I shook my head slightly.

"No. I don't want to write an IOU."

My father's face changed in an instant.

"It's a good day. Why do you have to ruin the mood?"

My mother clicked her tongue.

"We ask you to sign an IOU and now you're the one hard done by? You've cost more than anyone since you were little!"

"Write a hundred-dollar IOU and we'll let you come along!"

I shook my head again.

"I really won't go. Instant ramen is fine for me."

Instant ramen didn't require an IOU.

They seemed used to it by now and didn't press me any further.

I stared at the stack of IOUs on the coffee table.

The one on top was creased and crumpled.

Age one, ICU, fifty-two hundred.

I'd written that one when I was six, filling it in after the fact.

My father held my hand around the pen, stroke by stroke.

It was the first time I learned to write my own name, Maya Sullivan.

"Your life was bought back with this family's money. When you grow up, you remember to pay it back."

Every year after that, every single item, I signed.

Age seven, a year of martial arts tuition, eight hundred.

I was in such poor health, sick every few days, so my mother sent me to train for a year.

Later the colds got fewer, but I broke a bone, and that cost fifty-eight hundred.

Age ten, I had a growth spurt, so a new school uniform meant signing a twelve-hundred IOU.

My deskmate asked why I didn't just swap out a uniform that didn't fit. I smiled and said I was used to it.

Age twelve, a classmate had a birthday, and a dozen or so girls pitched in to buy a gift.

I went home and asked my mother for money. She flipped open the account book.

"You went six hundred over on medicine last month, and you still want spending money?"

After that, I could only fake being sick and skip it.

There were two empty phone boxes on the table, left over from when Toby and Renata had just gotten their new phones.

They were used to me clearing away the trash.

I dropped the boxes into the bin, and something in my chest turned faintly sour.

For as long as I could remember, I had never gotten a proper gift.

"Cake's a hundred, gift's a hundred. You want a present, you sign an IOU."

I'd signed one when I was six, and after that I never dared ask for a gift again.

From then on, New Year's, Children's Day, birthdays, Christmas, every day my brother and sister got presents, I never dared bring up a gift of my own.

My father bought my brother a new pair of sneakers, two thousand.

He didn't have to sign an IOU.

My mother bought my sister a new dress, eighteen hundred.

She didn't have to sign either.

The year I turned fifteen, I finally worked up the courage to ask my mother.

"Why am I the only one who has to sign?"

My mother was so angry she broke down sobbing.

"Your brother is a son! I gave birth to him first. He's the one who gives this family its face! If I don't cherish him, then who?"

"Your sister's got a strong constitution. She barely cost a thing growing up, so of course we treat her well now. That's what's fair!"

Her scale of fairness had three markings.

My brother stood for face. My sister stood for peace of mind. I stood for debt.

She had her own logic.

My father's car had driven off into the distance.

I dialed my guidance counselor's number.

"Mr. Lane, is it still possible to apply for the special early-admission program?"

"Today's the last day. But will your parents agree to it?"

I was quiet for a moment.

"Sir, I want to go."

I didn't want to live the life of the "IOU" anymore.

I wanted a different family.

A home in my heart, a home I could believe in.

2: 2

They got back at eleven at night.

The smell of a big shared dinner and liquor came in with them, sharp and thick.

Mom rubbed her ankle while she settled up the numbers with Dad.

"Tonight ran us thirteen hundred. Not bad."

Thirteen hundred.

That was eight hundred packs of instant ramen for me.

Renata tilted her head at me out of nowhere.

"Sis, which college did you put down? I'm pretty sure your scores were higher than mine."

I opened my mouth, but before I could get a word out—

Mom jumped in fast.

"So what if they're higher? Obviously she's going to the same school as you."

Dad nodded.

"You two have never been apart, not once, growing up. You look out for each other. Isn't that great?"

When I was little I lost a year of school because they sent me off to a martial arts gym to train, and that's how my sister and I ended up in the same grade.

Renata nodded too, like it was only right.

"Mom, our school has four-person rooms and eight-person rooms—"

"Then a four-person room, of course. More comfortable."

"Mom, you're the best!"

Renata lunged over and threw her arms around Mom's neck.

Mom's eyes went soft, full of that doting look.

"I'll have a word with the dorm supervisor, get the two of you put in the same room. She's a hard worker, she can help you out."

Then she turned to me.

"Maya, your twenty thousand in student loans is enough, right? Do you need to sign another IOU for the housing fee?"

I gave a small shake of my head.

"No need to sign anything."

She nodded.

"Good. Don't keep making us worry about you."

Dad pulled out a cigarette but hadn't lit it yet.

"Maya, you make sure you look after your sister when you get there. She's never been away from home."

I smiled bitterly.

As if I'd ever been away from home either.

"You're both just deciding we'll be at the same school? Our scores were more than a hundred points apart."

"So what?"

Mom's tone was flat.

"You just put down the same choices, that's all. Hasn't it always been that way, all your lives?"

All our lives.

Those words were like a switch.

When it came to the high school placement exams, I could have gotten into the top-tier high school.

But Renata's scores weren't high enough, so she could only go to an ordinary one.

Back then Mom settled it on the spot.

"Your sister didn't make the top school. You'd send her off to an ordinary high school all by herself? You think she can handle that?"

"You're sisters, you're supposed to look out for each other. Top school or not, there's barely any difference."

I really didn't want to, back then.

"Mom, the teaching at the top-tier school is better."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Mom's voice climbed.

"You'd abandon your sister for better teachers?"

Dad looked furious too.

"You're at the same school as your sister, you can even help her study. She goes without you, then what?"

And Renata was gripping my hand then, crying like her heart was breaking.

"Sis, I don't want to be away from you—"

Later, the top-tier high school's admissions office called my parents.

My parents were adamant.

"Either you take both daughters, or forget it."

In the end, it was forget it.

Now three years have passed, and history is repeating itself.

I'm grateful.

The words I'd just heard came too late.

3: 3

Half a month later, we had a visitor.

My father's old army buddy, Arthur James, came in wearing a stiff, ingratiating smile.

"Dennis, you hit the lottery. Congratulations!"

Then his face folded into worry.

"Dennis, my boy got into college. Embry-Riddle. Good school. The acceptance letter's already come."

"Money's tight for me right now. I don't have much put away."

His voice dropped.

"I was going to have him take out student loans, but I don't want him carrying that kind of pressure. He said too, that he'd rather his classmates didn't know. Wouldn't be able to face them."

My father clapped him on the shoulder.

"Kid's grown, wants to save face. I get it."

Arthur fidgeted, looking pained.

"I've got nowhere else to turn but an old comrade. I'll pay you back in installments every month!"

My father thumped his own chest.

"An old comrade needs help, of course I help."

He shot my mother a look, a signal.

My mother didn't hesitate. She picked up her phone and scanned Arthur's payment code.

"Is a hundred thousand enough? Say so if it isn't. A kid's education is a big thing. If we can help, we help."

Arthur's eyes went red. He stood and bowed.

My parents graciously insisted he stay for dinner.

I stood in the kitchen doorway and watched the whole thing.

A hundred thousand, gone with one tap of a thumb.

After Arthur left, I spoke up.

"Dad, Mom. His kid was afraid of the pressure, wanted to save face, and you lent him a hundred thousand."

"So what about me? You made me take out student loans."

My mother's hands went still over the dishes.

"How is that the same thing? Arthur's your father's old army buddy."

The liquor had gone slightly to my father's head.

"Right. An old comrade asks for help, you can't turn him down."

I looked at them both.

"So a daughter counts for less than a comrade. Is that it?"

They choked on it, neither able to answer for a moment.

Then my father slammed the table hard, the reek of alcohol coming off his breath.

"You have any idea how much money you've cost this family? That boy doesn't owe his parents three hundred thousand!"

I gave a bitter little laugh.

"No. Other people's kids don't have to sign IOUs."

A sharp crack.

My father hurled the bottle to the floor.

"Grown some backbone now, have you? You dare talk to us like this?"

"If we didn't pin you down with those IOUs, you good-for-nothing, you'd have spent even more!"

My eyes stung, but I forced it down.

"Other than medical bills, what have I ever wasted?"

"My whole life I've worn Renata's hand-me-downs. At the table I never dared take an extra bite of meat, always afraid I'd owe you more. Compare me to my brother and my sister, tell me where I ever wasted a thing!"

"Getting sick is your own fault!"

My father jabbed a finger at me, his whole face flushed.

"Nobody told you to be born cursed with bad luck!"

Bad luck. Born with it.

I understood him.

Something you're born with. There was no argument to win.

I tried to hold it back, but in the end the tears came anyway.

Toby and Renata just stared at us, neither one saying a word.

It seemed to be the first time they'd ever seen me fight back, and both of their eyes were wide with shock.

My mother knew my father's temper. She grabbed his arm fast.

"Enough, enough. Don't drag up all these old accounts."

She turned to me.

"Apologize to your father, now. You trying to give him a heart attack?"

I said nothing. I turned and walked away.

As I passed Renata, she watched me with a wounded, resentful look.

"Sis, you've changed."

I glanced at her.

She didn't say much more, but the blame was all there in her eyes.

Toby stood a little way off, watching me, his fists clenched tight.

"Maya, this time you really went too far."

I looked at him.

These people who'd fed off me were all bound together now, tight as a coiled rope.

I didn't say a single word. I pushed open my door and locked it behind me.

Inside the suitcase, I'd already packed the few clothes I still had that fit to wear.

I read through the Naval Academy check-in instructions one more time.

The day after tomorrow, I could leave.

This home. I never had to stay in it again.