Chapter 1

My journey to a magical world came in the form of three envelops in different colors. A day after I was crowned homecoming queen, blurry eyed, mascara still on because I was too tired to wipe it clean with a makeup remover, my doting mother of eighteen years sent the house help to fetch me. "Your mother wishes to see you," she said, opening the curtains. One should never keep a Roth waiting, my mom even so, rousing me out of bed. She was in her red silk robe, sipping her tea when I came to the parlor, concentrated on the stock market report on her Smartphone.

Let's get the character descriptions out of the way early in the story. I was taller than most girls, shorter than some. My nose was neither large nor awkward on my face, just right. My hair color was dependent on the season. Summer it was lighter. The opposite on winter. As for my eyes, they were a pleasant grey. Not charcoal grey, but a lighter Marengo.

My parents looked a lot like me. In fact, everyone in our family sort of looked like me, except I'm softer on the eyes. Our similar appearances had caused countless of articles to be published both online and in printed magazines about how we married our cousins and relatives to preserve the family money. It could have been true in the previous generations, but goddamn it if I were to marry my brother. That practice had been abolished in the past years.

And if you were to ask about modesty, it had been absent since Mr. Roth, my banker father, told me that it would get me nowhere in life. "We're a family of go-getters," he said in the autumn of 2005, on my 7th birthday. "Modesty didn't make your grandfather's father rich, nor had it gotten me to where I am. One day you and your brother will get all our assets and properties. I want you to understand that dwelling with modesty will not be favorable for your life." Needless to say, my modesty went out the window at that age, though my brother was able to retain a lot of his.

Where were we in the story? Ah, I was telling you about how I went downstairs to talk to my mother who had summoned me from restful sleep. She placed her phone on the sofa when she heard me come in. Money was gold, but Roth's were priceless, as they said. We made it a point to let go of everything when talking to each other. "Congratulations on your homecoming queen award," she said. "I told you they'll love your gown. It took Donatella three months to complete. How did Bjorn fare?"

"I broke up with him," I said. "It was good while it lasted." Bjorn was my Viking of a boyfriend. He was tall, muscular, had a nice smile that got him most girls, and we were over. Mom frowned before settling for a poker face. Between the three other boys I brought home for formal introductions, she'd liked Bjorn the most, mostly because he was a people pleaser. "It wouldn't have worked out with us. We're off to college soon," I supplied. It wasn't a secret that more than 50% of high school relationships failed in college because of the long distance and different culture. I was being realistic. I was a Roth.

Mother seemed to realize that too as she nodded to herself and took envelops, three of them, from the glass table. "These arrived yesterday afternoon when you were getting ready for the party," she said. "I didn't have the heart to take you away from the joy of womanly preparations, so I hid them from sight." I wouldn't have fussed over those envelops even if I saw them yesterday, I wanted to say. Instead I waited for her to reach out to me on the other side of the table, briefly noticing her perfectly applied nail polish before I accepted the papers. "Read them," she urged.

I have only but to glance at the insignia's on the upper right corner of the envelops to know that each of them came from the universities I applied to for higher education. Tearing through the paper, I read loudly, "Dear Miss Roth, the Department of Sociology has strongly recommended you after reviewing your application. We are happy to offer you an admission to the class of the succeeding school year." I thumbed through the next letters and read the same results.

"That's good news." She sounded pleased. "I'll call your father." Daddy had been out of the house before the first rays of sunshine. He was that dedicated to work and expected the same of his children. Mom spoke to him in low tones over the phone while I zoned out and thought of the universities.

Most of the interviewers were wearing suits and had that scholarly aura about them that said, 'I am a professor or a PhD in something. Respect me.' Any other student would be shriveled on the chair, mumbling their answers. Count me out. I was a Roth. We loved the challenge. Instead of telling them how I could contribute to the society and mankind, I was bold enough to ask what they could do for me.

My brother who'd been studying in one of those school's laughed when I told him the story. "You're an idiot," he said with a shake of his head.

Mom was not thrilled with my overconfidence, saying it could have cost me the admission. Like my brother, she had a sliver of modesty. Daddy, in the meantime, was proud. "You're a true Roth," he said. "Mayer would dance in his grave." Don't ask who Mayer was. Daddy always brought him up.

When the conversation between my parents was finished, mom turned to me, bearing the question that each of them wanted to know. "What college are you going to?"

Fast forward to days after graduation. It was the end of May and the summer breeze was making itself felt. I was stretched beside the pool, watching my brother Casper complete his final lap, as he would always do when he was home from college. He was panting when he hauled himself up the ladder, hair dripping wet, the broad muscled limbs of his shoulders relaxed. "Is there still ice on that tea?" he said, coming to me. "I'm thirsty."

"You'll have better luck asking for another glass." I showed him my laptop. "What do you think?" On the screen was a moderately sized two-storey house with charming green shutter windows. "It's near the university," I said. "The market is a ten minute walk. There's a church, a lake, a park, and basically everything a college girl would want. It's small with what I'm used to, too small, but it will do."

He grabbed the towel laid out for him by the house help on the pool chair and started drying his hair. It had turned to a lighter shade like mine, a symbol of summer. "I don't get why you couldn't have stayed in the dorms," he said. "You'll feel isolated off campus. Trust me."

"This is temporary." I wiped the screen from droplets of water. "The university isn't allowing students to live in their dorms until September. That's why I'm asking daddy to buy me a house to stay in till classes starts. I want to adapt to the area. Then when it's September, I'll transfer to the dorms."

"What will happen to the house if you leave? You're wasting money that you're not earning yet."

"Buying property is never a waste of money," I argued. "The value will increase in years, and when the time comes I can sell it for a higher price. It's called return of investment with an added bonus like daddy used to say. Besides, Lulu will stay there. I'll have somewhere to retreat to when I'm not feeling the university vibe."

"Whatever you say, Scotland," he muttered. Casper wasn't happy that I was getting my way often. That was the difference between us. He would never ask for those things, whereas I'd demand for it like it was a God given right. Aside from that, I would move heaven and earth to get what I wanted, and I would work hard for it too.

My school was the state champion in cheerleading because I have stretched and jumped more than anyone else in practice. I have won the science fair, the spelling bee, the hearts of every male and female in the private school I went to, even the hotdog eating contest, because I have dedicated my time and effort in them. Yes, every single bit of hotdog counted. Casper would always complain about my missing modesty, but what he failed to realize was I earned my stripes. I was a winner. An achiever. So if I wanted a house with charming windows, I would get it. But as it was, I still valued his opinion every now and then, more than a little sister should, so I asked.

While I was busy patting myself on the back from my small feats in high school, Casper had propped his feet on the chair. He covered his forehead with his hand, looking at the clouds wistfully. "I think the house looks great," he admitted. "Go for it." I smiled inwardly. Of course he'd like it. The house resembled the small vacation cottage we had in Alaska. "Are you ready for college, sis?"

"I was born ready for everything," I answered.

"It's a different ball game there. You won't be the only pretty chick."

"But I'll be richer," I pointed out. "We're always richer."

He sighed. "The competition will be high. Knowing you, you'll end up overworking yourself to win."

Casper was well-meaning, but something about what he said caught my interest, as it did when winning was involved. "Tell me more about this competition," I said, tilting my head.

"It's easy. Once you leave this roof, it will be every man for himself. Someone out there who's not in the same financial position as us will strive to prove himself by trying to beat you. They're hungrier. They're used to little to no advantage. Your credentials, however impressive they are, will be average when piled next to other people's achievements. How many cheerleaders do you think there are out there? How many student council presidents? How many straight-A students? How many people who drives Ferrari's?"

"You're saying I should stand out?" I questioned.

"I'm saying you should aim to make a difference."

I didn't realize until later that this conversation was to be the turning point of my life. My catalyst. By then I would have been involved with a group I never thought I'd be a part of, chased by an angry mob, pursued by an alpha girl who had the same brilliant mind as mine, and so much more that I had to make a book so you'd understand my gibberish.

I thought about my conversation with Casper for three days. Make a difference, he said. There was a ring to it. I liked it. But how? Discoveries were being made every day by scientists, and although I was well equipped to handle the science part, I wasn't feeling it at the moment. What else could I do? They were looking for cures to sickness, poverty eradication, and solving political endeavors, none of which could apply to my expertise at present, or perhaps I was looking too much into it.

It was the day of my departure when I got the answer. My path to greatness. The thing that would allow me to make a difference to the world. I had been browsing through the morning paper when Casper, who had promised to drive me and my best friend Lulu to the airport, exclaimed, "These people are disgusting!" He showed me the page he was reading from. "They're rallying against LGBT," he said. "What right did they have to tell other people who to love?"

"Settle down," I said. Casper was prone to outbursts when he had a strong opinion. It was the Roth's side of the family that showed when he was in one of those moods. "Now tell me. Why should we care? We're not the people they're rallying against. The only time you should be mad is when they take pitchforks and go to our gate, screaming for us to burn our things despite of how hard our parents worked to provide for us."

His eyes narrowed at me. "You should be more sympathetic," he scolded. "Have you heard the saying, till it happens to you? Just because you're not suffering doesn't mean that you should ignore what's going on. People from the LGBT community are being killed for what they are. Why just last week a woman who identified herself as a lesbian was raped so the perpetrator could prove that being gay was a choice. If it doesn't make you sick, you're part of the problem."

I snatched the paper from him to look at the write-up. It had always made me uncomfortable to read news like this, especially one that was outside the scope of familiarity. But he was right. I shouldn't dismiss its existence.

As I ran my gaze to the words, an idea clicked, like a light bulb going up my head. It was the subject I was waiting for. "Aha!" I said, jumping from my chair, newspaper waved around like a flag to war. The house help who was pouring juice on Casper's glass was so surprised that she spilled some on my brother's pants.

"I got this," Casper said to the apologetic woman before turning to me. "Why are you shouting all of a sudden? You're scaring everyone."

I slipped back to my chair excitedly. "I have an idea. It's going to be great."

And that, my beauties, was how I decided to start a book. I wouldn't go into details with the packing of our suitcase and how I bade farewell to my teary eyed parents. The book was all that mattered to me. It was to be my journal to the unknown, a contribution to mankind. When I dreamt, I dreamt big. I was willing to take the study to where no other straight woman has gone before, and it was going to be a long road ahead.