Marriage On Hold by Mark Twain 3
Chapter 3 Pride Points
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Chapter 3 Pride Points
Eileen couldn’t stop bragging about the things she saw on her Instagram, like whose boyfriend had bought the latest Louis Vuitton bag, and whose boyfriend had whisked her girl away to Italy.
As she talked, she looked at Barnaby, eyes sparkling with admiration and expectation.
Barnaby kept his spine straight, but his face flushed a deep red.
After dinner, Dad summoned me to his study.
He laid that maroon-covered ledger on the desk again.
“Because of your stubbornness, Eileen now has the wrong impression of our family, and you made a fool of your brother before her!”
His tone dripped with reproach. “You’re responsible for his ’emotional damage.’
“So tell me, how are you gonna make it up to him?”
I gripped the edge of my shirt so tightly that my knuckles turned white. “I… I’ll apologize to Barnaby.”
“Apologize?” Dad sneered, as if hearing a joke. “Apologies are the cheapest, most useless form of compensation! Can they turn into money? Can they mend your reputation?”
He flipped open the ledger and jabbed at it with his
pen.
“I checked the price of the bag that Eileen talked about on its official website. It’s 2,300 dollars. And I’ve done the math for you. You’d have to work at the convenience store for ten months straight without spending a cent on food or drinks. And no, I’m not saying you should buy it
now.”
He looked up, each word falling like the judge’s gavel. “The scale exists to maintain equilibrium. If your brother’s ego took a hit, you have to fix it somehow. Eileen thinks you’re smart, right? Then go and win something more valuable than a national scholarship, and let that shining honor restore the ‘pride points’ that he lost today!”
I dragged myself out of the study, feeling as numb and empty as a soulless puppet.
In the living room, Barnaby and Eileen were cuddled up on the couch, watching TV.
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Chapter 3 Pride Points
Eileen nestled into Barnaby’s arms, her voice soft but loud enough for me to hear.
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“Barny, your sister is incredible. She’s smart. She can make money to support the family. Unlike me, I’m bad at everything. All I do is spend your money. I’m so useless.”
Barnaby got excited. He puffed out his chest and declared with pride, “Of course! The women of the Ravenscroft family are born to serve men! Every penny she earns now will be mine eventually!”
I was losing my mind.
I’ve become nothing but a money-making and studying machine.
I took a part-time job at the school library. I attended classes during the day, spent the evenings organizing books, and worked night shifts at the convenience store.
With three jobs a day, I ran around like a headless chicken.
I could barely hold it together, but I didn’t dare to stop.
Dad warned that once I stopped, the scale would topple under the weight on Barnaby’s side.
I must make money and pay for Barnaby’s endless indulgence.
And I had to devote my waking hours to studying, chasing a certificate whose name I didn’t know, yet was somehow “more valuable.”
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