Wake up at 6 AM, make a breakfast sandwich and coffee, and hop in the car. It's been my routine for 5 years since I started at Hidden Gem Marketing, and I can't think of one thing I could change... except for the incessant buzzing that's been following me since sophomore year of college. From sunrise to sunset, that stupid scoreboard has been following me with a flashing "3.5 Stars!"

Most would think a 3.5-star review is decent, right? Not when you're judged on a scale of 10, and all your siblings have an 8 or 9. Want to know what kind of competition I'm up against, or why we even have a scoreboard judging our every move? Let's get started.

We first saw the scoreboard at 18, right after high school graduation, but I had heard about it since 5. My dad wanted to hide it from all of us, but my mom loved the bottle a bit too much and things slipped out quite a bit. I never told the others though; the mothers got into arguments over the littlest thing, and I never wanted to set them off. That's right, mothers. I grew up in a setting far, far from the nuclear family. Our dad, Ezekiel Brant, was a geneticist, CEO, real Richy-rich type. For one reason or another, he never married, but always wanted kids, so he used some of his medical connections, found 16 single, low-income women from fertility clinics and made a deal: If they come to live on his family farm and use his 'seed' to have a child, he'd pay for all of our expenses, schooling, everything. It sounds like the start of a dystopian horror movie, but it was actually fun growing up. I was always surrounded by different cultures, there was great food from the mothers competing every day, and dad was surprisingly fun. He always made time to play games with us (My personal favorite was when he took me to painting classes), go on field trips, and give advice. He even acted protective whenever we brought partners home; I'll never forget how scared my boyfriend from my summer job in high school was when my dad asked him questions ranging from particle physics to how he defined a "person's sparkle" while everyone got plates at dinner. Even after that, and wrapping his head around my football team of a family, he still wanted to date until we lost touch freshman year. After that, finding guys that could deal with 6 sisters and 9 brothers became... challenging.

It didn't help that I always had a drone following and filming me, calculating everything from food choices to sleep schedule. The purpose? So my dad could understand how each of our brains worked, how we would approach life, and testing nature vs nurture to new extremes. He could've just given each of us a weekly call, sure, but he liked to be thorough. 8-10 meant you had achieved a high level of personal success, but anything under 6 meant you had a lot of work to do. Now imagine being under 4. When it first started, we were all 10s, but after freshman year we sank like rocks to 2s and 3s as we figured out how to navigate the real world. Everyone except me. All my siblings were extremely smart, but I held the best test scores since middle school. I always knew what I wanted to study (Double major in business and psychology) and nothing could stop me. I was riding a solid 7.8 until summer sophomore year. Then Junior year came, and things got... strange. 6 of my siblings left college to pursue random crap like creative internships and hard labor trades, 7 more moved overseas to work with farms and eco-villages, and the other 2 joined film programs. Film. Their grades flew out the window, while I joined the honor program, and somehow their numbers soared to 7 and 8 and I fell to 5. I was devastated; I was always close with our father, and I'll admit I was never great with tech, but I automatically began to feel a strange distrust to my dad and his experiment. What kind of algorithm could value their gallivanting over my hard work? I studied my ass off, graduated valedictorian (In four years, mind you! Not an overage in sight!) and yet it sunk another .5. Sure, my filmmaking siblings had a few award-winning short films, so of course their scores are a solid 8, but the rest ranged from starving artists to bleeding heart farmers to falling off the family grid entirely, and they all held the same level.

Soon, the change in their voices started. The "Oh, you poor thing" voice. "What a sad little girl." It was nauseating; I had spent my life swearing to keep far away from the image of what my mother had done with herself, and even after all of my accomplishments they treated me the same way they treated her. I couldn't bear it anymore, so when I landed my executive assistant role at Hidden Gem, I cut contact. I blocked any news story with their names, deleted numbers, all to escape any mention of my family's convoluted view of the world. And yet the scores followed me. Everyone getting higher and higher numbers, barely ever dropping, and my name flashing with a red hue. I couldn't help but imagine the laughter and shame they must've felt. How could their sister possibly fail in their father's eyes? How could such a smart woman have such low standing with her own family? The more I thought about it, the harder I fought to prove myself to everyone around me. How else could I move from a go-fer to a manager to a vice president in half a decade, hmm? Only someone with vigor, with strength could do something so daring, right? So why did it still feel so pointless?

Now, back to today. I get in my car, drive to the office, and my assistant stops me with a grim look before I even walk through the door.

"Ms. Brant, I'm afraid I have some bad news. It's a man claiming to be one of your brothers. Joel, I think?"

"Oh, right, the body-horror shutterbug. What does he want?"

"He says your father's sick; something with his pancreas. They just found out, but it's progressing quickly. He's telling all of your siblings to gather for goodbye."

A sharp pain washes over me. All of that anger I hold disappears for a moment. I stand completely still, considering what I should do for a moment, but I know there's only one answer: If I wanted to say goodbye to my father, make up for a small piece of lost time, I'd have to endure the looks, the jokes, and the unspoken gripes of my family. Even if it was going to be like walking over hot coals, after all the pain this experiment has caused me, I'd do it. For him. I tell the board members I'd be taking some of my years' worth of unused vacation days, and after the initial shock of learning I had family, the approval email hit my phone. I book my plane ticket for the next day and immediately pack my essentials. As I board the plane the next day, I'm met with a strange sight: For the first time in years, my score increases. It's only .3, but still, it felt good, albeit a bit odd something as simple as stopping work and visiting my dying parent would bump it up.

My brother Joel is the one who picks me up from the airport, his perfect little 9 hanging over his head as we walk to the car. Outside of the soft rock playing over the radio, we drive in silence, although I can't help but shrivel my nose when I study his car; an old pickup with a faint smell of corn baked into the seats. He has 3 Oscars. Why would he willingly drive this? He seems to notice my expression, and before we turn the bend toward the farm, he turns and laughs.

"I like to keep things simple. This truck has been with me since I started. All the ups and downs, and this baby always knows how to keep me going. It's like a creative jumpstart, you know?"

I merely shrug and stare out the window. Creativity, at least the kind he was referring too, had been out of my wheelhouse for quite some time.

We drive up to the gold gates outside the farm, and it's exactly as I remember: 16 giant cabins spread across the fields in a circle, with the large silver and black farmhouse sitting in the middle like a fair king's castle. Recently, I had seen my father as anything but 'fair", but I kept whatever opinions I had locked away. I couldn't make this moment about my grudge, especially with everyone here. Joel's car stops in front of the main house, and I get out to look over the acres. It's just as beautiful as I left, but I see a few new additions: Leafy greens, slender cane-like stalks, and small, dark bushes... wait a minute...

"Oh, you can't be serious. Dad let Levi grow that here?"

"Yeah, he was skeptical at first but it helped when his arthritis got bad, so he let him add it to the family crop."

"Wait, he has arthritis too? Why did no one..."

I stop myself before I can finish the sentence; it's my own fault I've been kept out of family business. Instead of getting mad, Joel walks over and gives me a hug. It catches me off guard, but I can't help but embrace him.

"We can tell you all about it, okay? Everyone's really excited to see you. Everyone."

He lets go and opens the door, but I'm confused why he put so much emphasis on 'everyone.' My mother fell off the wagon and left after graduation, so I know she'd be one of the last people Dad would try to find on his deathbed. I follow Joel into the kitchen, with its shiny white walls and expansive stove filled with scents of the same baked bread and pasta recipes we used to make when we were kids. Two of my siblings, Rodney and Ella, glide from station to station preparing the food while Levi washes some corn in the sink. Everyone else is gathered around the table, but everyone stops when me and Joel walk in, all eyes landing on me. I'm at a loss for words for a moment, but I eventually wave my hand and show a small smile.

"Hey, sibs... How's life been?"

A few of them look a bit displeased to see me (I swear I hear my sister Natalie call me an obscenity in one of those dead languages she researches), and I can't blame them, but Joel seems to show some unspoken gesture, and everyone gets up and hugs me. Rodney even makes me a plate filled with polenta and meatballs, my favorite meal. I smile and take the plate, and nearly fall over once I take a bite.

"Oh, my God, this is delicious! You two really have some skills!"

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Yeah, you pick up a thing or two at Apicius. Besides, they don't give Michelins to just anyone."

"You got a Star?! Ella, that's amazin-"

"We both got a star. At the restaurant we opened. How the fuck do you no-"

"We'll cover all that later, guys. Do you want to wake Dad from his nap?"

Rodney and Ella back off and walk back to the kitchen, but they give me one last glare. I expected it, but I feel a different emotion than what I expected. Instead of anger, or pity from expecting some of them to have given up their pursuits, I feel... shame. And for some reason, envy? I know my worth, and I have an amazing life, but their lives all seem so exciting. I spot the posters for Joel and Sasha's movies in the corner, next to Eli's platinum album, and a magazine showing Lisa's announced pregnancy after winning the world cup. I look closer at the date and realize that was 2 years ago. On the table next to the magazine is a swathe of framed family pictures... she had twins. In fact, half of my siblings had 1-3 kids, and I didn't know any of their names. I had been an aunt for years, and I didn't even know it. A door down the hallway opens, and I turn to see who's walking out; everyone is around the table except for everyone's mothers and Dad himself, but instead of any parents exiting, I'm face to face with yet another facet of my past: Thomas, my high school boyfriend, wearing a pair of purple scrubs. He stammers for a moment, and I stammer back, until Joel gets up and slaps him on the back.

"When Dad started going downhill, he started going to Mayo for treatment, and we saw Thomas had become a nurse there. He remembered how he held up to his questioning when we were teenagers and decided to hire him as his full-time aid."

"W-Wow! That's amazing. You left a position at the Mayo Clinic to help out my Dad?"

"Of course. Your family was always so welcoming and loving, and I was getting tired of the rat race in Minnesota, so I thought 'why not?' How... How have you been? I heard you're a VP at an ad agency? How fun is that?"

"Yeah, it's nice, but not really much time for fun. Calls, emails, and meetings fill a lot of my days."

"Well, there's nothing like coming home to fix that, right?"

I smile and nod, and just look at him for a moment. God, he aged well. He smiles back, and Joel seems to notice since he clears his throat and pats Thomas again.

"So, T-Bone, how's Pops doing? Is he okay for visitors?"

"Oh, yes, he just woke up. He's feeling better at the moment, so if someone wants to talk to him, you can go in."

Joel thanks Thomas and Ella hands him a plate, encouraging him to sit. He walks over to a seat, but turns to me again.

"It was nice seeing you after so long. I can't believe we lost touch."

"Y-yeah, I just got the new job, and was so busy, and I didn't want to, you know, put you through a big 'thing.'"

I gulp hard, nerves turning my legs to jelly, but Thomas just shrugs.

"It's fine. We were young, we've both changed a lot. Bygones be bygones, right?"

I nod in agreement, but before we can continue, I hear a cough coming from Dad's room.

"Is-is that my dear Hazel? Come in; it's been so long since we've talked."

I'm frozen. It's been so long since I've heard my first name and not 'Ms. Brant' that it feels foreign, not to mention hearing Dad in his weakened state. He sounds frail, and I can tell he doesn't have long left. I walk down the hall to talk to him, and Joel follows me, but Dad raises his hand.

"Just us this time."

Joel seems stunned, but he nods and closes the door. Dad gestures for me to sit on his bedside, and I oblige.

"I remember when you used to sneak over and sit right here to pull the tablet out of my hands so I could stop focusing on work and help you draw. You were only five, but you were already so wise."

For a minute, I can barely remember that time, but soon it comes back to me. I remember the feeling of my old leather notebook and colored pencils and dragging anyone in sight to watch me trace the flowers in the yard. I wonder what happened to that book. Dad snaps me out of the memory with his hand on my shoulder. It feels colder, thinner than I remember.

"So, tell me what you've been up to."

"You already know, Dad. You see from the... you know."

"Sure, I see the outside; the interviews, the new campaigns, the big events, but what about inside, hmmm? You're telling me you haven't found a way to ditch the drones for a moment for a date or maybe a nice relaxing trip?"

"Dad, you know I can't leave work for that stuff. I have too many people I need to look after to worry about that."

"Funny... I had biotech company for 40 years and I still made sure to watch you kids grow up, and still made sure to find someone new to run it that wouldn't turn into a comic book villain."

"You sold the company?! But Dad, that's our legacy! No one in the family wanted to run it?"

"I didn't want anyone in the family to run it. They have their own paths to create, and hell, they all hate the business more than me."

"What do you mean? I thought it was your passion. You always loved helping people, and finding solutions to the world's problems, and-"

Dad pulls me in close, to the point he's staring me in the eye, and I feel his wavering breath on my forehead, just like when I was little and got in trouble for not doing my chores. I know he means business.

"I was interested in it, sure. I saw it as a science-fiction tale, a massive story all under my direction. But I hated the day-to-day; it was nauseating. It turned away from why I actually joined the field to endless budgets in a blink. I wanted to change careers, become a professor, but then we always made new breakthroughs and I felt obligated to stay. I lost the thing that made me sparkle, and I'll always regret that. Do you understand what I'm saying, Hazel?"

"Wh- are you saying I should regret my career?"

I step back from his grip with a furious look. I pace the room, confused at how the conversation turned.

"I thought you'd be proud of me, but instead you look at my life like a failure!"

"Darling, that's not entirely tr-"

"A 3. A 3, Dad! Tell me, what is it about my position that pisses you off so bad?"

"BECAUSE YOU LOST YOUR SPARKLE TOO! Your artwork was amazing, and you just pushed it to the side to prove a point! You are a master of your craft, yes, but painting, sketching, any form of art was your passion, your fated purpose, and don't act like I'm lying. Don't tell the others, but Hazel, the drones and scores were never about how much wealth you amounted or what position you rose to. Sure, it's nice perks, and it gives you a lot of options in life, but the point was who could tap into their sparkle; personal success meant personal satisfaction, happiness, pleasure! As long as no one is hurt and my children could find ways to enjoy their lives while enriching others, that is all I ever wanted."

I'm stunned. I always thought he cared about the money we made, or the accolades, but it all boiled down to joy? It was a bit trite, but I suppose that's a deal many kids would dream of.

"I-it doesn't matter. I'm sorry you couldn't pursue your dream, I really am, but I am perfectly fine with my career. Sketching was just a-"

"Hobby? Tell that to the smile you had when you held a pencil, or when you cried in awe when we went to the art museum, or when you dressed up as famous painters for Halloween. You never had that kind of happiness when it came to your studies, and certainly not your job. Every finals, you called me in tears. Every meeting, there was a panic attack. After every donor event, there were tears, vomiting, and sleepless nights. That is not how life should... be..."

Dad starts to gasp for breath and a beeping starts in the corner of the room. Thomas rushes in to feel his chest and Joel picks me up and pulls me into the hall.

"What happened to him? Is he going to be alright?"

"He should be fine. It spread to his lungs and he gets choked up when he's excited, but it usually passes. What were you guys talking about?"

I don't think I have the strength to tell him yet. Especially since most of it revolves around a piece of information Dad told me not to share. Instead I just cry silently and Joel pulls me in for another hug.

"I'm going to stay a while longer, if you'll have me. I need to stay for as long as dad has, and to help with whatever you guys want around here. I have a year of vacation days, two months of sick days, and if I pull a few strings, maybe I can- I can..."

"It's okay, Sis, you can stay as long as you need. Whatever it is, we'll work it out together, okay? It'll be fine. You're gonna be fine. You're home now."

I sniffle and cough for a few more minutes, then once I'm somewhat composed, I turn to look at Thomas, giving my father an injection to put him back to sleep, then to the basement door on the other side of the hall.

"Hey, maybe while I'm here I can relearn some of the family trades? Help Levi farm, maybe get some cooking tips from Ella before she lobs my head off. And possibly... look through some of my old stuff downstairs. I think I left something really important here. Thomas seems to know the house pretty well nowadays."

Joel smiles a knowing smile and pats me on the back.

"Oh yeah, did I mention he's been single for a few years now? Anyway, I'm sure he'd love to help you around here, catch up. As long as you stay in your own cabin and give me absolutely zero details, family therapy will go just fine."

I give him a joking punch but follow it with one more hug. I look down the hall and see my siblings. My family. I had seen them in such horrible lights for so long, trapped in my own bubble, while they thrived and built their lives. I don't know what Joel's idea of 'Family therapy' would look like, but I know it'd certainly be rough. But I'd deal with it as long as we can learn each other's lives and I can eventually meet my nieces and nephews, even if we have to get unconventional. Besides, I hear art therapy is all the rage now...