Chapter 17
Joycelyn’s POV
After weighing offers from both Princeton and Harvard for weeks, I ultimately chose Harvard’s Math–CS Joint Concentration program.
I’d waded through mud my entire life–now I wanted to experience the rarefied air of Cambridge’s
academic elite.
During my first semester, the parents who’d vanished from my life for three years suddenly reappeared after seeing my profile in The Boston Globe. They claimed they’d missed me terribly.
My response was to walk away and block their numbers before they could finish their rehearsed speech.
They erupted with rage in a barrage of texts from new numbers, their masks finally dropping:
“You think we ever wanted you? Your name was supposed to be just ‘Joy‘–as in ‘the only joy we got
was when you finally shut up crying.‘ We only added ‘Celyn‘ because your grandmother insisted you
needed a middle name. No one in this family or this world ever welcomed you. You were the ceiling
that crashed down on our dreams! You should be grateful we even kept you!”
They threatened to contact media outlets about how the “Harvard scholarship prodigy” abandoned her struggling parents after achieving success.
I calmly informed them I’d use my million–follower TikTok account to tell everyone how my family was so desperate for money they tried to marry me off to a middle–aged family friend when I was
fifteen.
“And I’ll make sure to include Dad’s DUIS and how my brother’s gambling addiction drained my
college fund long before I left,” I added. “If I’m going down, you’re all coming with me.”
The threats stopped immediately.
That night, I created a song that I hummed all the way back to my dorm: “I am my own Joy, not what you call me. I bring my own light, celestial and free. Finally seeing Lynn, the girl who survived the
storm.”
During my sophomore year, I was invited to speak at TEDxHarvard’s “Breaking Barriers” event,
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Touchdown PLAY: Cheer Queen vs. Quarterback King
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Chapter 17
which would be livestreamed nationwide.
I prepared that speech with unprecedented care, knowing somewhere in the audience were countless students trapped in the same quicksand I’d once fought through.
That day, I wore my most professional blazer (thrifted, but you’d never know) and walked onto that stage with deliberate confidence as I faced the cameras.
I wanted them to see what breaking free looked like. I wanted to plant a seed of possibility in their
hearts.
At the conclusion of my talk, I stepped away from the podium and moved closer to the audience:
“If you’re stuck in the mud right now, if everything around you is dragging you down, remember this: turn thorns into lifeboats and obstacles into stepping stones. Only you can pull yourself from the mire to witness open skies, chase distant stars, and forge your own path forward.”
“I’ve gone ahead, and I’m waiting for you on the other side.”
After leaving the stage, Alex Chase–a recent Harvard graduate and co–founder of Nexus AI who’d just secured $40 million in Series A funding–approached me:
“Some of us are heading to Border Cafe for dinner after the event. There’s an empty seat with your
name on it.”
I was about to accept when I spotted a familiar face in the crowd.
Our eyes met, and he turned to leave, but I called out to him.
“Nathan. Wait.”
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L—Vina
