The morning of my medical entrance exam turned into chaos. I woke up far too late, only to discover every one of my alarms had been switched off. In the midst of panic and despair, my 8-year-old brother came to my rescue—with a plan that would change everything.
Becoming a doctor had been my lifelong goal. After we lost our mom to cancer, that dream became even more personal. I wanted to understand what took her away from us. I wanted to fight for others in her memory.
Years of effort had brought me to this moment—late-night study sessions, stacks of textbooks, and endless tests. And today was the day that would determine it all: the medical entrance exam.
To avoid any chance of oversleeping, I had taken every precaution. I set three alarms on my phone: one at 6:00, another at 6:15, and the last at 6:30. I even left my curtains open so the sunlight could help wake me up. As I drifted off the night before, I whispered a silent promise to my mom—I would make her proud.
But when I opened my eyes the next morning, something felt off. The room was too dark. I grabbed my phone—9:55 a.m. My exam started at 10:00.
I jumped out of bed, panicking. “No, no, no!” I fumbled for my phone. All my alarms were turned off.
“I know I set them,” I muttered in disbelief, my hands trembling as I scrambled to get dressed.
I tore down the stairs, calling out desperately. “Linda! Please, I need a ride! I’m going to be late for my exam!”
She was calmly sipping her coffee in the kitchen, her face unreadable. She looked at me coolly.
“You’re already late,” she said with no hint of concern. “Next time, try setting your alarms properly.”
“But I did set them,” I cried, my voice shaking with panic and hurt. “I checked them three times.”
She smirked slightly. “Well, clearly you didn’t. Maybe that’s a sign. If you can’t even wake up for a test, how do you expect to handle medical school—or patients?”
Her words stung. I stood frozen, disbelief crashing over me like a wave. Could she really be that cruel?
With no time left, I turned to leave, ready to run if I had to. But just then, a small voice called out behind me.
“I know what happened,” my little brother Jason said, his voice unsure but steady.
I spun around. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated, then looked straight at Linda. “I saw her. Last night. She went into your room and turned off your alarms.”
Linda’s face snapped toward him. “Jason, stop telling lies.”
“I’m not lying!” he shouted, his small fists clenched. “You said Emily didn’t need to go to some dumb test. I saw you do it.”
My heart dropped. I looked to Linda, hoping she’d deny it. But instead, she folded her arms and sighed.
“Alright, yes. I did it,” she said coldly. “You’re not meant to be a doctor. It’s a waste of time, energy, and money your father could use on something actually worthwhile.”
“Like your beauty salon?” I snapped before I could stop myself.
As I opened the door to leave, sirens pierced the air. They were getting closer—heading straight for our house.
Jason reached for my hand and gave it a small squeeze. “Don’t worry, Em. I called them.”
Linda’s eyes widened. “You what?!”
Jason didn’t flinch. “You’re the villain, Linda,” he said, his voice firm. “Emily is going to be a doctor. Mom would have believed in her.”
Before Linda could say anything else, two police officers stepped through the front door.
“Everything alright here?” the taller officer asked, scanning the room.
Jason stepped forward bravely. “I called you,” he said. “My sister’s supposed to take a really important test. Linda turned off her alarms so she’d miss it.”
Linda scoffed. “This is ridiculous! They’re just kids making excuses for being late.”
The female officer knelt down to Jason’s level, her expression gentle. “You called for help?”
Jason nodded. “Yes. Emily worked so hard. She deserves this chance.”
The officers turned to me. “Is that true?” the male officer asked.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “I need to get to the exam center right now or I’ll miss my only opportunity.”
They exchanged a look, then nodded.
“Come with us,” said the female officer. “We’ll get you there.”
Linda looked shocked. “You’re really doing this?”
The officer didn’t even look at her. “It’s our job to help.”
Jason squeezed my hand again as I hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Minutes later, I was in the back of their patrol car, racing through traffic, lights flashing and sirens blaring. My heart thudded in my chest—not from fear anymore, but from determination.
When we arrived, the exam center doors were already closed. One of the officers quickly explained the situation to a proctor standing outside.
“She was intentionally delayed. Is there any way she can still take the test?”
The proctor eyed me seriously, then after a moment’s pause, gave a small nod. “Alright. Let her in.”
I rushed inside, heart pounding, took a deep breath, and focused. I thought of my mom, of Jason, of everything I’d been through to get here.
I sat down, picked up my pencil, and started the test.
Hours later, I walked out exhausted but relieved. The officers were gone, but I carried their kindness with me.
Jason was waiting on the porch, eyes wide with hope. “Did you make it?”
I smiled. “I did. Thanks to you.”
He threw his arms around me. “I knew you could.”
Inside, Dad was waiting. His face was tight with worry, but Jason immediately started explaining what had happened while I was gone.
As Jason talked, Dad’s expression darkened. He looked over at Linda, his jaw clenched. “Is this true?”
Linda faltered. “I… I was trying to stop her from making a mistake. That’s all. I didn’t mean—”
“You sabotaged her future for your own reasons,” Dad said, voice like ice. “You don’t belong in this house anymore.”
Her face paled. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” he said. “Pack your things. Now.”
Jason and I stood quietly as she gathered her things and left. It wasn’t triumphant—it was just right.
And for the first time in a long time, our home felt like it belonged to us again.