So, I worked in a factory for nearly a month, planning to head home and use the computer to register for college. But as I reached the front door, I overheard Dakota sweet-talking my parents.
"Mom, Dad, you two are so smart. With Amy off working, you won't have to pay as much for her college."
"Once I get into Yale, I'll find a rich guy, and we'll all live in luxury!"
My mom beamed with pride as soon as she heard those words, showering Dakota with compliments. I shouldn't have been surprised. After all, my sister had managed to scam a married man into supporting her through middle school with just a few texts and videos.
For months, Dakota brought home money to give to our parents, and they were hooked. They treated me like a burden, the kid who was good for nothing but draining their finances. I spent years feeling guilty for not contributing enough, ashamed that I couldn't provide for them the way they expected.
But after hearing their conversation that day, I didn't go home. Instead, I registered for college from an internet café near the factory and spent the rest of the summer working double shifts.
Sure, it was normal for kids to want to give their parents a better life as they grew older. But what I didn't know at the time was that while I was breaking my back working, Dakota was spending our parents' money on vacations and parties, all under the guise of "finding a wealthy husband."
Because of her history of manipulating people into giving her whatever she wanted, my parents believed every word she said. They indulged her more and more, showering her with the money I was supposedly earning to support them.
It didn't matter how much I sacrificed or how much I cared about the family—it could never compete with the fantasies Dakota spun for them.
This time, I wasn't going back home to take care of my mom. And I wasn't going to miss those six hundred dollars a month either.
I found a part-time job, and aside from classes, I spent every waking moment in the library. I barely even returned to the dorm to sleep. Despite spending six months at home taking care of my mom—feeding her, cleaning her, and acting like a full-time nurse—none of that wiped away the knowledge I'd worked so hard to retain. I could still recall every detail I'd studied.