Ch. I received a video 12 I received a video 12

Chapter 12 Looking Up 

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The military uniform was the one my father had brought home the year he left the service. The shoulder epaulets had faded almost white from wear, and one of the collar buttons was missing. So, my mother had sewn on a new one with dark blue thread, her stitches tiny and neat. 

I folded the uniform carefully and tucked it beneath my pillow. When I lay down to test it, the pillow was just a little higher than usual. 

My phone lit up again. Everyone in the class group chat was posting photos of their college dorms. 

Someone shared the view from Bradford University’s Redbud Hall, showing us the view from the floor-to- ceiling windows. It was filled with lush green trees and buildings in the distance. 

Someone else posted a photo from Oakridge University’s Cherry Blossom Hall, and the roof of the old library could be seen through the window. 

Another person shared the lawn in front of Westbridge University’s Brightwood Hall. The evening sun stretched across the grass, bathing everything in a warm glow. 

I got up and took a picture of the athletic field outside my window. 

A single floodlight illuminated the red running track under the night sky. Beyond it stood rows of neatly planted trees, their leaves glowing a warm yellow under the streetlights as they swayed gently in the breeze. 

Replies flooded in almost immediately after I posted it. 

“Are the Defense Technology Institute dorms really this hardcore?” 

“That track looks huge.” 

I tossed and turned when it was lights-out, which was at 11 p.m. 

My training uniform was folded neatly beside my pillow, ready for tomorrow morning. 

I continued to roll around my bed for more than 10 minutes before pulling on my jacket and slipping quietly out to the lawn beside the dorm building. 

When I lay on my back and looked up, I could feel the sharp tips of the grass pressing through my clothes. They felt somewhat ticklish against my back, but I did not move. 

I could actually see stars in Fairmont’s night sky. There were not many, just three or five bright ones blinking through gaps in the clouds. 

I stared at the brightest one for a while, the one low in the western sky 

It reminded me of what my future self from 15 years later had said in that video. “You were meant to go up there. 

Now, I was on the athletic field for the aerospace engineering program, looking up at the open sky. 

My phone buzzed again. It was a text from an unfamiliar number, registered in another state. 

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“Sonia, it’s Silas. I started my repeat year today. I just wanted to say you were right that day. I’m sorry.” 

I read it once, twice. Then, I opened my contacts and dragged the number into my blacklist. 

The screen went dark, and the stars came back into focus. 

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I went home for winter break as soon as the first semester of college ended. 

My mother had squeezed her way to the very front of the crowd waiting outside the station. Her scarf was wrapped three times around her neck, and she was carrying an insulated tote. 

She chatted to me the entire drive home, her words coming out in torrents from the moment I got in the car until we got off the highway. 

“You’ve lost weight. You’re tanner too, but you look healthier. I kept thinking you were in your room the first few days after you left for college. So, I was always surprised whenever I opened the door to find it empty. 

“Eventually, your dad finally said, ‘Enough. Our daughter’s gone off to college. Stop wandering around the house all day.’ That’s when it finally hit me.’ 

She sat in the passenger seat and kept turning around to look at me. She’d glance back at me every few moments, as if worried I’d disappear on her again. 

My father was no better as he sat behind the wheel, stealing glances at me through the rearview mirror. 

However, he could not keep the smile off his face. I found it amusing how he would quickly look away and pretend to focus on the road every time our eyes met in the mirror. 

I didn’t burst his bubble and say that I knew he missed me because he was driving almost 10 miles per hour slower than usual. 

When we got home, I wasted no time carrying my suitcase into my room. 

Everything looked exactly the way it had when I left. The desk. The lamp. Even my old school uniform draped over the back of the chair. 

I opened my suitcase and started unpacking. A sheet of paper slipped out of my coat pocket. 

It was a letter-size sheet of paper, folded in half, with my Defense Technology Institute first-semester transcript printed on it. 

Every grade was above 85. I had even earned a perfect score in Calculus. 

My mother had come up behind me at some point. She reached over, picked up the transcript, pushed up her reading glasses, and studied it for a long time. 

2/3 

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