Wilbur had decided to live in England permanently and Techno had signed on for another four years of grad school in Western Mass. Dad had been promoted from software designer to the executive lead of the company’s location he worked at, and life hummed along. Tommy was going to his first college out of state. The phone calls from your brothers still came every day like clockwork, and the family was happier than ever; being abroad had smoothed over Wilbur and Dad’s relationship, and Techno was on track to become a professor almost right out of grad school with an impressive tenure at an elite school while Tommy seemed happier than ever getting out of the house. Life was perfect.

For everyone but you apparently. Four months into your first semester in high school you had more Ds than Cs, and was mandated to at least five hours of tutoring each week. It wasn’t that you weren’t trying (you were, God, you were trying so hard), but you just…couldn’t get it. Even as stayed up until 2am every night pouring over course materials and study guides, even as you watched video after video on Khan Academy, you couldn’t pass the countless tests that came your way. Teachers would hand back quizzes with a sour face and a ‘meet me after class’ scribbled in the margins of an in-class FRQ; the tutor you were assigned to quick gave up, complaining you were too hard to teach. They told you, you needed to get your grades up or you would have to repeat the year, and you wanted to scream. You were trying, you were, but it didn’t seem like it mattered.

Phil was barely home, he barely cared, you started not taking to your brothers, barely leaving your bedroom. You drove yourself to the doctor three months after getting your license only to find out you had depression, it was better than feeling crazy, you got over the counter meds that same day.

Spring break everyone came home, Phil sending a message to you about needing you home early, wanting to surprise you with your brothers’ arrival home for break. All three of them this time.