Part 3My Application, My Say

I walked right past him.

When I reached the door, Mom called after me in tears. "Callie, would we ever do anything to hurt you?"

I did not look back, because the answer was already clear. They would, and they already had.

Three days after the application deadline, Cedar Hollow High held a panel for outstanding graduates. I had not planned on going.

However, Mr. Ormsby called me out by name in the class group chat. [As one of our top scorers, Callie will be sharing her experience with the underclassmen. Please don't let personal feelings get in the way of a school event.]

I knew exactly what he was trying to do. He wanted to make it official in front of everyone that I had "chosen" the local teaching contract program of my own free will.

I went. It was not to go along with it. It was to see how far they were willing to take this act.

A banner hung across the auditorium.

The principal, the dean of students, and the PTA representative were all there.

My parents sat in the front row. Mom wore a new dress, and her smile looked both proud and wounded.

Mr. Ormsby stood on the stage holding a microphone. "Callie has an outstanding record, but instead of blindly chasing a big-name school, she took her family's situation into account and chose to dedicate herself to education right here at home. That shows a real sense of responsibility for a young person today."

Applause broke out. I sat in the audience, and my stomach kept churning.

Responsibility? They had tampered with my applications, and then they called it responsibility.

Mr. Ormsby looked at me. "Callie, why don't you come up and say a few words?"

Every eye in the room landed on me.

Mom pressed her hands together and mouthed at me. "Don't make a scene."

I walked onto the stage and took the microphone. The auditorium fell silent.

"I really do have some advice for the underclassmen," I said.

Mr. Ormsby smiled with satisfaction.

The next second, I looked out at the audience. "Don't tell anyone your application portal password. Don't give your verification codes to your parents, teachers, or relatives. Take screenshots and screen recordings before and after you confirm, and send them to your own email to keep a record."

Mr. Ormsby's face changed instantly. The audience started murmuring.

I kept going. "Because some people will claim they're doing it for your own good, and then steal the choice you earned with over ten years of hard work."

Mr. Ormsby slapped his hand over the microphone. "Callie!"

Dad shot up from his seat. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

I did not argue with them. In that setting, there were more of them, and they had the authority.

What I needed right now was not to win the argument. I needed to push them until they panicked and slipped up, and revealed even more evidence.

Sure enough, that afternoon, Mom posted a long voice message in the family group chat.

"We worked so hard to put her through school, yet the moment she does well, she turns her back on her own parents.

"We helped her pick a stable career, but she says we're trying to ruin her life. You all be the judge. What kind of daughter does that?"

The group chat quickly blew up.

Aunt Joyce wrote, [That girl has studied herself stupid. She doesn't appreciate everything her parents do for her.]

Uncle Wayne wrote, [Callie, don't go too far. Your parents raised you for 18 years. What's wrong with going to a local school?]