My Brother is a Super Star
The words 'Yale Lincoln Farewell Concert' flickering on the screen felt like little flames burning the secret I've hidden for years — Yale Lincoln is my real brother.
To grab two tickets, I asked eighty friends for help.
The night before, I sent each of them a 15-dollar bonus and messaged them one by one: "Set your alarm for 1 a.m.—make sure you wake up!"
My friend Rachel replied, "Don't worry, I'll set my alarm—definitely won't let my mom find out!"
Kevin was even more dependable, saying he'd have both his computer and cell phone running while working overtime, promising to watch out for me.
At 1 a.m., the moment the countdown hit zero, I held my breath, fingers gripping my cell phone tight, my palms sweating.
"Got them!" The moment the app popped up the notification, I was so thrilled I almost dropped my cell phone and quickly took a screenshot.
Last week, Mike was still holding me, his eyes sparkling as he said, "Viola, I really want to hear Yale Lincoln sing 'Starlight' live. It'd be amazing if we could go together."
Before I could even send the screenshot, Mike's message popped up first: "Yolanda's heartbroken and feeling down. I gave her those two tickets you wanted."
I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I rubbed them and looked again, but those words still hurt to see.
Right after that came the second message: "Just wait for us outside the venue; listening from the roadside works too."
I opened the ticket app, and the words "Already Transferred" stood out clearly, with the recipient being Yolanda's cell phone number.
Yolanda was always clinging to Mike Carter, and she'd constantly give me sly, secretive glares.
I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, and dialed that painfully familiar number.
The phone was answered after three rings, Brother's voice hoarse from just waking up: "Viola? Why aren't you asleep so late?"
"Bro, your concert... can I go on stage and play "Starlight" with you?"
I tried to keep my voice steady, not wanting him to catch the hurt behind it.
There was a pause on the other end, then came a surprised voice, "You finally agreed? I've asked you so many times before, and you always rejected."
"Um... I just suddenly wanted you to see how much I've improved."
I didn't mention Mike Carter or that the tickets were given away—I didn't want to make him worry.
"No problem!" my brother's voice was full of warmth.
"I'll have the manager send you the schedule right away, and I'll make sure the sheet music gets to you first thing tomorrow morning."
Right after hanging up with Brother, Mike Carter's call came through.
The moment I answered, his reproach came through first: "Why didn't you reply to my messages? Still upset about the tickets?"
Right beside me, Yolanda's coquettish voice chimed in: "Mike, don't be harsh with Viola, or... should I just give the tickets back?"
"Give them back? No way!" Mike cut her off immediately.
"Yolanda just got dumped, poor thing. What's wrong with giving her the tickets? Viola, why are you so selfish?"
I laughed out loud, but tears welled up in my eyes: "I tried so hard for these tickets, paid people money, stayed up all night—and you just give them away with one sentence? Why don't you give your tickets to her then?"
"I have to go with Yolanda Scott!" Mike Carter said confidently.
"You're not even close with her, so what if you gave her the ticket? Besides, why didn't you grab an extra one? The problem's clearly on you!"
If cell phones could send punches, I swear I'd smack him right through the screen.
"I bought the tickets because you said you wanted to listen to Yale Lincoln, to keep a little memory with me!"
I clenched my cell phone so tight my knuckles went white.
Before Mike could say anything, Yolanda's crying broke out: "It's all my fault, I shouldn't have taken the ticket. I'll return it right now..."
"No need to return it!" Mike's tone softened instantly, like he was soothing a child.
"Come with me, don't pay her any attention; she's just stirring up trouble."
Then he yelled at me, "Viola Lincoln, apologize to Yolanda Scott right now!"
"Apologize?" I thought it was absolutely ridiculous.
"Mike Carter, you need to figure out who's really in the wrong."
After saying that, I just hung up.
I expected Mike to apologize, but all I received was a text: "I thought you were kind and mature, but you're so selfish. If this happens again, we're done!"
My hands were shaking with anger as I read that message.
He has no idea that if I wanted to, I'd be sitting front row at the concert anytime.
I didn't tell him about my relationship with my brother; I just wanted to date him for real, but he treated my feelings like some casual favor to hand out.
Wiping away my tears, I opened the schedule the manager sent. In the end, we decided on the song 'Starlight' for the show—I'd play the piano, and my brother would sing.
Early the next morning, I went to the music room to practice piano.
Sunlight spilled over the keys, but the melody I played lost all its warmth.
The music room door swung open, and my fingers froze. I looked up to see Mike Carter walking in with Yolanda Scott.
He was still holding a cup of hot milk tea, and when he handed it to Yolanda Scott, his movements were much gentler than when he used to buy breakfast for me.
"Not replying to texts and still mad?" Mike Carter frowned, with no hint of apology in his tone.
"Practicing piano." I didn't look up, just kept playing the keys.
"No matter how much you practice, you're still not as good as Yolanda Scott."
Mike Carter ruffled Yolanda Scott's hair; that gesture pierced me like a sharp sting in the eyes.
Yolanda Scott's lips curled into a smile as she sneaked a glance at me—her pride was impossible to hide.
I rolled my eyes, not wanting to deal with them.
"About the tickets, I'll take you out for some spicy hotpot—that'll make up for it."
Mike Carter reached out, trying to take my hand.
I quickly dodged away; his hand froze in mid-air.
He stayed patient and said, "Stop. We're here to tell you something."
"There'll be merchandise sold at the concert, Yolanda wants the rarest doll, so you should line up the night before." He said it like it was totally normal.
"Since you're not watching the concert anyway, lining up would be a good way to pass the time."
I looked up and shot him a cold glare.
Before, I told him I wanted to buy some merchandise together as a keepsake, but he said, "It's a waste of time, better to practice piano more."
Now, it's for Yolanda, and he's making me stay up late to queue.
"It's going to take a long time. Will you come with me?" I asked.
Mike Carter immediately frowned: "Yolanda just broke up and needs someone to keep her company. What's wrong with you going alone?"
"Isn't it just standing in line for a bit? Who are you making that face at?" His tone grew more and more impatient.
"Yolanda's in a bad mood; so what if I give her a gift? Why are you being so petty?"
Yolanda started acting all pitiful again, her eyes red as she said, "Forget it, Mike. I shouldn't have made Viola queue. I'm used to not getting what I want..."
She paused, looked at me, her voice soft: "My boyfriend broke up with me, and I didn't even make it to the piano competition finals... unlike Viola, who had Mike with her in the finals."
The moment tears fell, Mike instantly felt heartbroken: "Look! It's all because of you that Yolanda is so upset!"
He yelled at me: "Just queue up and buy the doll to make it up to her! You have to get it, no matter how!"
Mike hugged Yolanda, gently patting her back: "You little crybaby, don't be sad. I'll definitely get you that doll."
I watched them cuddling and suddenly clapped my hands: "Such amazing acting, it'd be a shame that you didn't become actors."
"Mike, if you like Yolanda so much, why don't you two just be together and stop putting on a show in front of me?"
Yolanda cried even harder: "Viola, Mike and I are just childhood sweethearts, there's nothing more to it..."
Mike stood in front of Yolanda, glaring at me: "Viola Lincoln, why are you being so cruel? It's just lining up, right?"
I took a half step back, watching them coldly.
Mike Carter noticed I wasn't saying anything and softened his tone a little: "I know you're upset about missing the concert, but you can't talk like that."
"So I'll punish you by making you buy a doll."
Yolanda obediently nodded: "Viola, I won’t be mad at you."
Mike took my silence as agreement and sighed in relief: "That's more like it."
Yolanda linked her arm with his, eyes full of mischief: "Thanks, Viola."
Before they left, Mike made sure to stress: "You have to get there early to line up—don't let Yolanda down."
I didn't say anything, just kept thinking—when the concert day comes, I'll show them what I look like on that stage.
On the day of the concert, I packed my things and left.
Just after I stepped out of the school gate, I saw Mike Carter and Yolanda Scott holding hands up ahead.
Yolanda was still holding the ticket I snatched, grinning proudly.
Mike saw me, quickly let go of her hand, and hurried over: "Why are you still here? Didn't I tell you to go line up early to buy the merchandise?"
"If you go now, it'll all be sold out already. Are you doing this on purpose to stop Yolanda from getting it?"
Yolanda Scott, her eyes red and voice full of hurt: "Viola, if you didn't want to line up, you could've just told me. I can go on my own. It's definitely sold out now..."
I slipped my hands into my pockets and looked at them: "Don't worry, I can get as many dolls as you want. No need to line up."
Mike Carter and Yolanda exchanged a glance, their eyes full of confusion.
"You're not buying the dolls that are sold at higher prices, huh?" Yolanda covered her mouth, looking genuinely surprised.
"I don't have that much money to give you..."
"You don't need to give me any money." I said coolly.
Mike nodded with satisfaction: "Now that makes sense."
He hailed a taxi and pulled Yolanda Scott inside.
"Let's head to the venue first. You grab the merchandise and wait for us at the entrance."
As they were just leaving, a black Mercedes-Benz business car pulled up right in front of me.
The driver opened the door and respectfully said, "Ms. Lincoln, Mr. Lincoln sent me to pick you up."
I got into the car, and a cup of warm water was immediately placed next to me.
My brother knows my stomach is sensitive, so whenever we meet, he always prepares something in advance—even for these last-minute pickups.
When we arrived at the waiting area, my brother, dressed in his performance outfit, came over smiling and teased, "You are finally going on stage?"
"Bro, I want the drone to film Mike Carter and Yolanda Scott's spot. I want to see how they react." I whispered.
Brother paused for a moment, then nodded, "No problem, I'll have the staff arrange it right away."
He pulled me along to introduce me to the band members; everyone was really warm and welcoming.
They even said they'd match my rhythm and told me not to be nervous.
As the concert began, the cheers inside the venue rose and fell like waves.
Watching Brother sing and dance on stage backstage, each song sparking a huge sing-along, my heart swelled with pride.
That's my brother—a treasure I've kept hidden for so long.
The final song, "Starlight," was coming up soon.
The platform slowly rose, and as the spotlight hit me, I took a deep breath and sat down at the piano.
My fingertips touched the keys, and the familiar melody began to flow.
My brother's voice echoed in my ear: "Welcome the most important woman in my life—Viola Lincoln."
The whole place erupted instantly, screams nearly ripping off the roof.
I glanced at the small screen beside the stage; Mike Carter and Yolanda Scott were still cuddled up together.
The moment they saw me, their smiles froze instantly.
Mike Carter's eyes widened, and the glow stick in his hand dropped to the floor with a soft clatter.
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