On the day of my medical entrance exam, I woke up to a nightmare. I glanced at my phone and felt a wave of panic. Somehow, all my alarms were turned off, and the clock read 9:55 a.m.—just five minutes before my exam was scheduled to start. Everything I had worked for seemed to be slipping away in that moment.
I could feel my heart pounding, the pressure of years of preparation crashing down on me. But just then, someone completely unexpected came to my rescue—my little brother, Jason, only 8 years old, with a courage that changed everything.
Since I was young, I’d dreamed of becoming a doctor. My desire only grew stronger after my mom passed away from cancer. Losing her was devastating, and I wanted to understand the disease that took her from me, to give others a fighting chance that she didn’t have. I’d studied endlessly, night after night, every effort building up to this one exam.
I’d taken every precaution to make sure I’d wake up on time—I set three alarms and even left my curtains open to let the first light in. The last thing I did was think of my mother and silently say to her, “I’m going to make you proud.” But the next morning, my eyes opened to darkness. My phone, instead of displaying the time I expected, showed me a horror—9:55 a.m., all alarms off.
Heart racing, I tore down the stairs and went straight to my stepmother, Linda. She was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee with a look that instantly made me feel uneasy. “Linda,” I begged, breathless and frantic, “I’m late! Please, can you drive me?”
But Linda’s face stayed cold, and a slight smirk played at the corners of her mouth. “Well,” she said, taking a long sip, “maybe it’s just not meant to be. Maybe you’re not meant for medical school.” She shrugged as if my dream was a trivial thing, something that didn’t matter.
Her words hurt deeply, but I was too desperate to let them stop me. Just as I turned to run out the door, I heard a small, brave voice from behind me. “I know what happened,” Jason said, his eyes wide but determined.
I stopped, stunned, and looked at him. Jason’s face was pale, but he took a deep breath and stepped closer to me. “I saw Linda last night,” he said, almost whispering. “She went into your room and turned off your alarms.”
Linda’s smirk vanished instantly, and her face turned sharp. She sneered, “You wouldn’t have made it anyway. Becoming a doctor is a waste of time and money.”
I could feel anger and sadness welling up inside me, but Jason wasn’t done. He looked up at me with resolve and said, “I called someone for help.” A second later, we heard the sound of sirens outside. Jason held my hand tightly, giving me strength, as two police officers walked in. Jason explained everything to them with courage I’d never seen before. The officers, understanding the urgency, offered me a ride.
With Jason cheering me on, I hopped into the squad car, and we sped through the streets, the sirens clearing the way. When we arrived, I bolted into the exam hall. The proctors, moved by my story, allowed me to sit down and start the test. As I took my seat, I felt my mother’s spirit beside me, giving me the strength I needed.
Hours later, I left the exam room, completely exhausted but with a sense of victory. Jason was waiting at home, his face lighting up with pride when he saw me. Together, we told Dad everything that had happened. Dad listened, his face growing serious, and then he looked at Linda with a firm expression. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” he said.
Jason had done more than help me get to my exam on time; he’d uncovered the truth and kept our family safe. His bravery made it possible for me to pursue my dream, and as I looked at him, I felt sure our mom would be incredibly proud of him.
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