She Got Five Suitcase, I Got A Broken Backpack Chapter 01
Before school started, my mom packed my sister Mia’s five
“suitcases to the brim before finally opening mine.
But the first thing she did was toss my clothes carelessly onto the floor.
Then she started shoving in face masks and herbal
supplements–all for Mia.
I looked down at the floor, then back up at her. She paused,
then gave an awkward smile.
Tessa, you don’t have much stuff. Just take a backpack.”
The backpack was Mia’s old hand–me–down. The shoulder
strap was practically falling apart.
Dad didn’t say a word. He just pulled out his phone and
tapped the screen a few times.
A second later, Mia’s phone chimed. “Venmo received: ten
thousand dollars.”
*Don’t hold back. If you need more, just tell Dad.”
When it was my turn, he handed me a crumpled wad of bills
-a thousand dollars.
“Make it last. Things are… tight at home right now.”
I said nothing. I took the money and tucked it into the worn
canvas pocket of my bag.
Tucked inside that same pocket was my admission letter.
The major listed wasn’t Education–the one they’d told me to fill in.
I’d tried to tell them. Three times I opened my mouth, three
times I was cut off.
The first time, Mom was too busy buying Mia new clothes.
The second time, Simon was busy planning her graduation
trip. The third time, Dad was busy booking her celebratory dinner venue.
Now, I didn’t want to say anything anymore.
Mia, remember to soak these collagen supplements every
day. The dorm beds are hard, but Mom had a custom
mattress topper shipped to your school this afternoon..”
Mom kept chattering as she frantically crammed things into
five oversized suitcases.
Mia Brooks lounged on the couch, eating cherries and
whining in that coquettish way of hers, “Mom, that’s way too
much! I can’t carry all that.”
“Don’t worry–your dad and brother are here. We’re driving
you there tomorrow.”
Dad smiled and chimed in. Simon reached over and pinched
Mia’s cheek, his eyes full of affection.
The living room was warm and lively–as if there weren’t a
fourth person in this family at all.
I crouched in the corner by the entryway, quietly rolling up a
“few basic old clothes and stuffing them into that faded,
washed–out backpack.
No one remembered that I also started school tomorrow.
No one remembered that I’d been dumped into a full–time
boarding school since middle school–that I’d even gotten
through every fever and illness completely on my own.
When I finished packing, I stood up with my bag.
Thud.
The strap–which I’d mended three times already–finally
gave way under the weight, as if it could no longer bear the burden.
The backpack crashed straight into the open suitcase beside
it. That suitcase was filled with expensive herbal
supplements Mom had gone out of her way to get for Mia.
The impact ripped the zipper open.
A piece of stiff cardboard printed with gold lettering slid out,
most of its edge exposed to the air.
That was my admission letter.
I lunged forward to grab it. If anyone saw what was written
on it, they’d discover I hadn’t applied to the same school as Mia.
“My supplements!”
Before I could catch it, Mom let out a shriek and shoved me
aside. I lost my balance and slammed hard into the shoe
cabinet by the entryway, a dull pain shooting through my side.
She snatched up my old backpack and hurled it out the door.
“Did
you do that on purpose?! Do you have any idea how
expensive these are?! If anything broke, what’s Mia supposed
to do when she gets sick at school?!”
She frantically checked every single packet.
My backpack rolled across the hallway floor. My Stanford
admission letter scattered out along with everything else-
back side up, lying silently on the cold tile.
I ran over and, before anyone’s eyes could land on it,
snatched that letter–the one that would decide my entire
future–and pressed it tight against my chest.
The noise inside stopped.
Maybe they realized the supplements were fine. Or maybe
they finally sensed the awkwardness of what had just happened. The living room went quiet for a beat.
Dad cleared his throat, his tone dismissive. “Alright, the
supplements aren’t broken. Tessa didn’t mean it.”
Simon glanced at the mess in the hallway and coughed,
trying to break the tension. “Tessa’s backpack really is falling
apart–even the strap broke. We’re taking Mia to the mall
this afternoon to get new clothes for school. We’ll pick you up
a new backpack too.”
In the past, the script would have gone like this: I’d stand
there with red–rimmed eyes, desperately explaining that I
hadn’t done it on purpose, then gratefully accept whatever
scraps of kindness they tossed my way.
But now, watching them scramble around Mia, I just found
the whole scene utterly absurd.
Even if they had seen the letter–so what?
No one in this house cared about me.
bent down calmly, gathered my scattered clothes, and
brushed off the dust.
Fine.”
Then I picked up that backpack with its broken strap, walked
over to the trash chute in the hallway, and let go.
Thud. It hit the bottom.
Along with eighteen years of longing and hope for this family
-I threw it all away.
Simon opened his mouth to say something, but Mia suddenly
called out from the couch. “Bro! Come look at this restaurant!
Can we go there tonight?”
His attention snapped away in an instant. He turned and
walked back inside, all smiles.
I stood outside, pressed my fingers against the stiff letter
through the fabric of my pocket, and felt nothing at all.