I always felt like the black sheep in my family. When we moved to a two-bedroom house, my parents decided Daniel needed his own room, while I was shoved into the unfinished basement.
Daniel got a bright, spacious room with new furniture and decorations. I, on the other hand, received junk from the garage. When they showed me my new “room,” Mom excitedly gestured around the cold, concrete space. “Isn’t this exciting?”
I stared at the bare bulb and cobwebs. “Yeah, Mom. Super exciting.”
Determined to transform my basement prison, I took an after-school job at the grocery store. My Aunt Teresa became my saving grace, helping me turn the dingy space into something vibrant with paint, curtains, and string lights.
Months later, I stood back, admiring my work. Just then, my parents came downstairs. Instead of praise, Mom frowned. “If you can afford all this, you can start contributing to the household.”
I was stunned. “What? I’m 17!”
Dad chimed in, “Time to learn financial responsibility.”
Frustrated, I agreed to pay rent, knowing it would derail my college savings. Just then, Daniel came down, yanked my LED lights, and damaged the wall. My parents brushed it off, leaving me feeling defeated.
A few weeks later, my parents invited Aunt Teresa and her friend Ava, an interior designer, over for dinner. Aunt Teresa proudly brought Ava to see my basement.
Ava was impressed. “You did all this yourself? You have a real eye for design. We have an internship opening up at my firm. Are you interested in design as a career?”
I could hardly speak. “Absolutely!”
“Great! It’s paid, and you might earn a scholarship if you pursue design,” she added.
My internship changed everything. I worked hard, balancing school, my job, and my new role. My parents seemed unsure how to treat me. The rent demands stopped, replaced by vague inquiries about my “job.”
As the school year progressed, I built my portfolio for college applications. Ava encouraged me, saying, “These schools would be lucky to have you.”
I applied to top design programs, and the waiting was agonizing. Finally, I heard Mom call from upstairs, “Elena? There’s a big envelope here for you.”
I rushed up, tore it open, and read, “We are pleased to offer you admission to our School of Design…”
Not only had I gotten in, but I also received a full scholarship, thanks to Ava.
When I shared the news, my parents’ reactions were muted. They went back upstairs, and Daniel complained about not getting an internship. I felt their bitterness but didn’t care. I finally had what I wanted.
Ava held a celebration for me at her office, and Aunt Teresa threw a big party. The next room I decorated was my dorm, then my life, filled with colors and patterns that reflected my soul and the supportive family I created along the way.
