From the timeI was old enough to care about grades in school, I was already the weakest link within my family.
It was seventh grade, second quarter, and I received five B’s and an A. I spotted my name on the honor roll list in the cafeteria. It was like I won the lottery. I studied harder than most others seemed to try, but test-taking didn’t come easy. That day, after I realized what I was capable of, I locked myself in a stall inside the girl’s room. I cried because I proved to myself I wasn’t stupid. I thought maybe I didn’t have a learning disability like my parents silently talked about after they thought I was in bed at night.
The rest of that school day crawled by at a snail’s pace. I had to wait until five-thirty when my parents would arrive home from work, which just made the day even longer, but the excitement was bubbling by that point.
They carpooled to work since their offices were within five minutes of each other, so they both walked in through the front door at the same time.
“Guess what!” I shouted as they dropped their belongings by the door.
Bradley stepped around me, unknowing of the amazing news I had to share. “So, Harvard wants to interview me for a possible junior year admission to their summer program,” he says it as if it’s no big deal. Like these things just happen for him when he asks for it.
My parents screamed with excitement, jumped up and down before swinging their arms around his neck, sharing their pride for their genius son.
I shrugged and muttered, “I got on the honor roll today,” but they didn’t hear me.
They never knew I hit the honor roll that quarter.
In hindsight, it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t even Bradley’s fault. No one knew I had something exciting to share, but it was a continuation of feeling like I was living in a monster’s shadow—a monster I couldn’t compete against.
Bradley has played the big brother card well, treating me as if I’m a delicate flower that needs to be watched and cared for, which I have always hated. However, now that I’m in this situation because of him, I feel like he just threw me to the wolves for no reason.
After sitting in my bedroom stirring for a couple of hours, I think back to the paperwork Bradley sent me last week, wishing I read the papers more carefully.I need to know what I signed.I glance down at my watch, spotting the date. It’s the date my shipment of moving boxes is due to arrive.
I jog down the stairs and peek out the front door to see if there’s a delivery. Shockingly, I see two large boxes. I shipped six, but I can pray my laptop is in one of these.
With a struggle, I drag each box up the stairs, clunking along the way.Please let my laptop be here. I need that damn lease.
I tear the flaps open from the box marked fragile and immediately spot my laptop bag, wrapped in bubble plastic.Thank goodness.Funny enough, I swore off this damn machine after my last final a few weeks ago. It’s the reason I didn’t squeeze it into one of the bags I had with me.
Once I retrieve the laptop, It takes a few minutes to power up, but I thankfully find the document still sitting as a lone file on my desktop.
When it opens, I recall reading the first part, which I assumed sounded like standard terminology for renting or leasing.
The document is fifteen pages, which felt like too much to read while finishing up my finals.
I scroll through again, looking for something that might stand out as odd. It isn’t until I reach page thirteen that I notice a section of type that has a different font than the rest of the document.
This lease falls under the terms of a social study, taking place within the Bachelor Place, alongside Bachelor Beach. The villa, #1, can be used as a prop for the social study labeled, Bachelor Beach. Tenants will not be included within the typical terms set in place for The Bachelor Place villas.
•Tenants shall not be harmed from outside influences caused by controlled social interactions.
•Tenants shall not be directly questioned by researchers involved with the ongoing Bachelor Beach project.
•Tenants MAY be used as natural habitat sources within the social aspects of outside research.
•Tenants are prohibited from discussing any part of the social research occurring within the community.
I read this page at least five times, trying to understand the meaning behind the confusing lingo.Tenants may be used as natural habitat sources.Am I the natural habitat source?
I can’t just sit with this.
Neither shoes nor a bra are on my mind when I run down the stairs or out the front door. Knowing where Theo lives now, I run two doors down and knock until he answers.
The door opens, and he’s in a pair of boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. He looks like he might have been half asleep as he scratches his fingers through his dirty-blonde hair.
“Hey,” he says, his voice scratchy. “Are you okay?”
Theo looks around behind me, as if he’s worried about being spotted, then ushers me through his front door.
