"IT IS WITH sincere regret that we are unable to offer you admission..."

My eyes burned with more tears as I opened the blinds in my bedroom and obsessed over the most painful rejection letter I had received yet. Maybe ever. I read it so many times I could recite it word-for-word. My dream college, Stanford University, didn't want me.

It was a nightmare. Everything I worked so hard for since I was a child was gone. The trash can beside me was a wasteland of useless dreams, filled with even more rejection letters from my backup schools. The whole thing was a statement, a declaration that I would remain stuck in this town — this life — forever.

"We congratulate you on your impressive academic accomplishments."

I barely recognized myself in the bathroom mirror. All my sleepless nights spent studying hung in the circles around my eyes, all for the sake of maintaining a four-point grade average. But it wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough.

I spat out toothpaste, its minty flavor marred by the salt of stray tears. Between the meagre scholarships I'd been awarded, to even my backup colleges rejecting me, there was nothing left. I was out of options. My dreams had crumbled within the span of a few letters. They dissolved into nothing with every passing minute.

"Best of luck!"

Dread burrowed deep in my stomach as I thought about going to school and facing my best friend, Jo. For her, it had never a question of me getting into Stanford. She just thought I always would, even pushed me to apply early. I couldn't fathom the idea of telling her the faith she had in me was misplaced.

I reached for my favorite book, Swords and Roses, sitting on my nightstand. Reading always helped distract me. It took away any pain or frustration, especially when reading this story. 

"The kingdom was in ruins as the villagers protested..." I didn't get far into the sentence before a droplet blurred the black letters. I didn't need to read one of the unhappier parts of the story. I needed to read a snippet of Lady Heathwood and Sir Ashwell's romantic adventures. I didn't want to read about protestors revolting against their king because of his rejection. It seemed too on the nose.

I ran fingers over the worn edges of the cover. It was a hazard from years of it being the only book I owned. Even after I discovered the library, I always returned to Swords and Roses and Lady Heathwood, who taught me how to be ambitious and kind, graceful and clever, and voice my passions. Or, at least she taught me to want to be and do all those things. She'd been my savior as a child, and was now a passport to another world whenever I needed it. When I opened the book, I pretended it was my story instead of Lady Heathwood's.

"The commotion turned into chaos. Knights rode in on armored horses, looking as regal as they did terrifying. Their swords were drawn as they shouted at the people who didn't move. Then, a man with a pitchfork took a swing at a horse. Its knight flew forward, then got trampled by his own startled mount. I ran toward him without thinking."

I stilled at a knock on my door. The knock wasn't much of a request, because my mom always barged in immediately after. "What are you still doing here? The bus will be here any minute." She threw my tattered messenger bag my way. "Come on, I shouldn't have to look after you, too."

"Mom, stop! I'm not feeling well," I protested. She scoffed before she laid the inside of her wrist against my head. The dark circles around her gray eyes were a deep shade of purple, telling of how exhausted she was. I almost felt bad, for being another burden in her eyes, so I looked away. "I... have a migraine."

Mom folded her arms over her small chest. She saw right through me. "And I'm the Queen of England. What's with the tears?"

As soon as she noticed them, more burned against my eyes. "Nothing. Everything. It's – I'm fine."

She sighed, the air coming out from deep in her chest. "You've always been a terrible liar, Claire. Out with it."

I couldn't believe I had to say it out loud. "I... got a rejection letter. From Stanford."

Frustration pinched her face before her expression morphed into something like confusion. "Well, Claire-Bear, did you really think you'd have a chance?"

I didn't think my heart could break twice in one day, but here we were.

"A chance at what?"

Great. It only made sense today was the day my parents could stand to be in the same room together.

My dad managed to look worse than Mom. He was once healthy from his work in the military. Now he was pale and gaunt, except for his round, protruding stomach, which fit what Mom called his "habit." He drank all day and well into the night, because being passed out for him was the only way he could combat his nightmares.

"Your daughter thought she could get into Stanford," Mom said. Your daughter. Never theirs, or even hers. She turned back to me. "How did you think you were going to get there? We can't even afford a ticket outside South Carolina! Or –"

Her face turned bright red. All the warmth left my body when her eyes zeroed in on my overflowing wastebasket. "Let me guess, you asked for a handout. What did I tell you, Claire? We are not a charity case!"

Which was precisely why I never confided in anyone but Jo. My mother's pride wouldn't allow me to ask for help, even if it meant bettering myself. She wanted me stuck, just like her and Dad. No matter how many times I could escape into Swords and Roses, I always had to come back. "You're right, Mama. It was stupid –"

"It's okay, Claire." Dad stumbled over to me for a sloppy hug. I let him wrap me in his arms, even though it ended up doing the exact opposite of comforting me. "It's okay. People like us just don't belong in that world."

"With good reason," Mom muttered. "Claire-Bear, it's time for you to be realistic, and that starts with going to school. It's your last semester. Can't drop out now."

"You'll be fine, darling," Dad assured me as he pulled away. His eyes drooped, landing on Swords and Roses. I set back down on my nightstand when Mom came in. "You still have that?"

"Of course," I said. How could he even ask? "It's my favorite book."

"Mine, too. I remember reading it cover-to-cover at least forty times in Germany. Are you at the part yet where Ashwell and the prince of Velein challenge the King?" He slapped his knee, chuckling. A faraway look glazed his eyes over, letting me know we may have been in the same room together, but we were now miles apart. "Reminds me of the day my unit and I told the chief to go suck one! Have I told you that story?"

"Yeah, Dad, you have," I managed to say through a thick lump in my throat. My dad lived in the "good ol' days," instead of the present where Mom and I waited for him. "I need to get going."

"Right. Have a good day, darling."

After he left, I changed into a pair of jeans and a pink hoodie. I needed to get out. Now. I didn't spare either of my parents a second glance or goodbye. Not even as Mom came out of the bathroom with a towel on her head or as Dad settled into his dirty recliner, nursing a half-empty beer in our too-dark living room. I wanted to open the blinds, let in some light, but he'd get annoyed. I didn't want the first decent conversation we had in weeks to end on a sour note.

An ornate wrought iron gate slouched as the haphazard entrance to our apartment complex. Today, because the universe was working against me, the gate decided to fully collapse off the hinges when I pushed my way out. I left it there to rot with the apartments.

If she were me, what would Lady Heathwood do now? The heroine of Swords and Roses always saw a solution, even in a crisis. She was the voice of reason in a room full of loud voices. If Lady Heathwood was here, she'd find some way to think of the future and how it would be better.

But I could only think about the years I wasted being the perfect student. Passing through the threshold of my school felt like a death sentence instead of an exciting stepping stone toward my future. Graduation was now... daunting. Looming. I had nothing once I got that diploma. And then everyone else, including my best friend, would leave. 

It was easy to blend in and maneuver through the crowded hallways. The students around me were walking blurs as my tears made everything misty. I couldn't let myself cry. Not here. 

I stared at the words in my book while I waited for Jo at my locker. I wasn't concentrating, but at least the act gave me something to focus on as I tried to pull myself together. I couldn't tell Jo about Stanford, which meant I had to lie, and I didn't even need my mom to tell me how bad at that I was.

I hit my forehead with my book, groaning. Today was getting worse by the second.