I'm No Beggar for Love

"These privileged kids are different—they just have to pick the center seats."

"Who could stand being her deskmate? The teachers would be watching us constantly."

The students all scattered to the edges, leaving me alone in the middle. I kept my back ramrod straight as I turned a deaf ear to their mockery, calmly opening a supplementary textbook.

Just then, someone pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. A boy extended his hand toward me.

"Hi, are you Wendy Lane? Let me introduce myself—I'm Ethan Weber. Can I be your deskmate?"

I discreetly sized up the boy. He had the clean-cut appearance of someone who'd be naturally popular.

"Are you sure? Sitting with me might get you labeled as privileged too."

He casually laughed, leaning in to whisper with a playful wink, "Ha, they wouldn't dare. I'm the principal's son."

Only then did I notice that Ethan's features somewhat resembled Ms. Weber's. I guessed that Ms. Weber had anticipated my difficulty fitting in and had specifically asked Ethan to look after me.

A warm feeling flowed through me. I would get along well with Ethan even if it were just for Ms. Weber's sake.

After the first weekly test, my far superior scores silenced all my critics. Soon, people were swallowing their pride and asking me for help with their studies. My once uncomfortable high school life became secure and smooth.

I was probably the only person left on the vast campus when the weekend came. I had planned to study diligently in the library, but Ethan unexpectedly knocked on my dormitory door.

He and Ms. Weber knew I wouldn't be going home for the weekend and worried I might be lonely by myself, so they came specifically to invite me to lunch. Having lived so long with my family's favoritism and neglect, I especially treasured kindness from others.

The amiable Ms. Weber and the humorous, talkative Ethan gave me a long-forgotten taste of family warmth. There really were people who would think of me and consider my feelings out there.

I had spent every weekend with the Webers since I started school. Ms. Weber said having the discipline to study was good, but being too tense would hinder knowledge absorption.

The Lanes were presumably quite happy without me—they hadn't even made a single phone call asking me to come home.

I gradually opened up in my interactions with the Webers, rediscovering some of the innocence and vitality appropriate for my age. Ms. Weber even looked at me tenderly and said, "I've always wanted a daughter. I wish you were my daughter."

No one knew how deeply those words affected me. That was because I had once overheard a conversation between my father and Grace in my previous life.

"Grace, you have such artistic talent. How wonderful it would be if you were my biological daughter."

My eyes welled up with tears again as I recalled this painful memory. Ethan panicked like a cat on a hot tin roof as he hurriedly wiped my tears with his sleeve.

"It was just a joke! It's not like we're kidnapping you. Don't cry."

However, Ms. Weber sensed my true emotions and couldn't help asking what had happened between my family and me. Ethan was so shocked that his jaw nearly dropped after hearing the story about Grace.

"Your parents abandoned their brilliant biological daughter for that drama queen of an adopted sister? Were they under some kind of spell?"