As the weeks went by, I slowly adapted to my new environment. I became used to walking through the palace-like gates, seeing the ridiculously expensive cars in the parking lot, and greeting snobby but undeniably knowledgeable teachers. I even got used to being around boys and nothing but boys. What made the change easier was my lack of nostalgia for my old school friends. I missed ditching classes and going to the arcade with them, but coming here made me realize that we were never that close. They were people I hung out with because we had common interests, but nothing deepened our bond. They texted to ask if I was okay and how my new school was, but the casual "Hey, what's up?" messages stopped coming. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm going to die alone," I stated to myself. I imagined myself seventy years from now, wrinkly, old, and cranky, waving my cane around and complaining about global warming. I got up from my bed and busied my mind with homework. I grabbed a textbook but immediately lost all motivation to study as soon as I opened it.

Great, I'm going to die alone and stupid.

"Desmond, there's someone on the phone who wants to talk to you!" my mom called.

"Is it dad?" I asked, unable to contain my excitement. I joined her downstairs, and she handed me the phone.

"Hello?" I said eagerly.

"Desmond!" I recognized the voice right away.

"Arthur?" I smiled, happy to hear my older brother's voice, but felt guilty for being slightly disappointed that it wasn't Dad. "How's life at Harvard?"

"I'm surviving on six cups of coffee to finish assignments. Life here is amazing," he chuckled sarcastically.

"You're only drinking coffee, right?" I asked slowly. After Arthur graduated, he developed a heavy drinking problem. It got so bad that he had to see a doctor at one point, but he was getting better. My parents rarely brought up the topic. I once overheard my aunt say that it was because of a bad breakup right after his graduation. My uncles told me it was normal for a brilliant boy like him to develop bad habits, and that all geniuses needed their own escape from reality. But no one really knew what happened. I doubted that it was because of a girl. He had so much in life going for him. What was there to be sad about?

"I'm three weeks clean," he said.

"That's great." I smiled, feeling relieved.

"Anyway, the campus is amazing and..."

I listened as he told me anecdotes about new his life at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. I was happy for him; he was living his dream life.

"Wow," I murmured once he finished telling me about that time he almost blew up a laboratory. "That's so cool."

"Enough about me. What about you? How's Ivory High? Is Mr. Power still bald?"

"Bald as a baby's butt," I confirmed, which made him laugh.

"And Mr. Harrison?"

"Still not over his divorce."

"Hearing about them makes me nostalgic," he chuckled. "I was happy when mom and dad said that you were transferring to my old high school."

Arthur graduated from Ivory High three years ago. They accepted him to Harvard University with a scholarship, majoring in science and advanced technology. He was gifted, talented, and ambitious. Like everyone else, I admired him.

"Against my own will," I clarified, craning my neck to see if my mom was listening. I lowered my voice just in case. "Mom gave me a lecture about condoms on my first day."

Arthur burst into laughter.

"How did that happen?"

I told him about my first day of school and my life at Ivory High. Despite our differences, I've never hated my brother. It wasn't his fault for being gifted, just like it wasn't my fault for being average.

"Did you make any new friends?"

I smiled. "I've made three."

"Tell me about them."

"The first friend I made is Charlie. He's bubbly and bright, and you can talk to him about almost anything. Then there's Trevor, the one who accidentally hit me with a volleyball. He's the goofy one in the group. He can be dense sometimes, but you should see him solve math equations. I'm also friends with his childhood best friend, Scott. He's more reserved, but he's nice and caring and has this motherly vibe. He always helps me with schoolwork. Oh, and he keeps Trevor out of trouble."

"I'm glad you've found a group of friends. You were always better at making friends than I was." Arthur sounded impressed.

"That's not true, everyone loves you."

"They love my achievements," he clarified. "Besides, I don't have your sass."

"No one does."

We both laughed.

"You haven't gotten into any trouble recently, have you?"

My brother worried about me, even more after moving away for his studies. I knew he felt guilty leaving the house especially since Dad was absent most of the time.

"No, not yet, but there's someone that gets on my nerves."

Since day one, the Cursed Prince and I haven't gotten along. The worst part was that I had to sit beside him for most of my classes since the seat next to his was usually the only one that was empty.

"What's his name?"

"Didn't bother remembering it," I snorted.

"Why does he get on your nerves?"

"Because he's a narcissistic ass-hat who thinks he's better than the rest of us because he ranks first in our grade. He acts like a prince and expects us to treat him like royalty, and the worst part is that he gets special treatment. He sleeps in class, and the teachers don't care, but I get scolded just for glancing out the window. Scandalous, I know!"

"Sounds like you like him," Arthur mused.

"Arthur, you're supposed to be the smart one. I'm telling you I hate him."

"People only say that about people they like."

I flinched.

"Have you talked to him?" he asked.

"And waste my breath? No, thank you."

"Well, at least you aren't ditching classes anymore." He paused. "You aren't ditching classes, are you? No fighting either, right?"

"No, there's no one to ditch or fight with."

"You're not a delinquent, Des."

"Tell that to mom and dad."

"They know that you're not a bad kid. I never believed that the way you behaved in your old school was you. Ditching classes and causing trouble, you were only doing that to prove-"

My chest tightened, and my defense mechanism kicked in: Avoid sappy conversations where I was emotionally vulnerable.

"Oh, hey, Arthur, you're breaking up, krrrk, krrr," I started making fake noises. The conversation was taking a bad turn, and I needed to abort ASAP. "I krrr, can't hear- crackle shackle mc'cackle- gotta go. Bye!"

"Wait, Desmond has someone-"

I hung up. The kitchen fell silent. Has someone what? What was he going to say? Never mind, I'll ask him the next time he calls. Christmas, maybe. He said that he'd come back for the winter holidays.

"So, how's Arthur doing?" Mom asked with a wide smile, the edge of her voice rubbing me the wrong way. "Doing well at Harvard, I suppose?"

I gave her a thumbs up. "He's doing amazing, as always."