On the morning of my medical entrance exam, I woke up in a total panic. I glanced at my phone and felt my heart sink. Somehow, every single alarm I’d set had been turned off, and the clock read 9:55 a.m.—I had just five minutes to make it to my exam! Everything I’d worked for seemed like it was slipping away in that moment.
I’d dreamed of becoming a doctor my whole life, especially after my mother passed away from cancer. I wanted to help people like her and give them a fighting chance. But now, I was almost certain I’d miss my chance—until my little brother Jason, just 8 years old, stepped in with a courage I’ll never forget.
I’d studied hard for years, staying up late every night, preparing myself for this one exam. To make sure I’d be on time, I set three separate alarms and even left my curtains open so the sunlight would wake me. I thought of my mother before I went to sleep, silently promising her, “I’m going to make you proud.”
But when I opened my eyes the next morning, something felt wrong—it was still dark. I checked my phone, and my heart dropped as I saw it was already 9:55 a.m. All my alarms were off.
I raced down the stairs in a panic, my mind whirling. I ran straight to my stepmother, Linda, who was calmly sipping her coffee, watching me with a look that made my stomach twist. I begged her, “Linda, please, I’m about to miss my exam! Can you give me a ride?”
But her face remained cold, and she gave me a dismissive look, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “You’re already late,” she said, with a shrug. “Maybe that’s a sign. Maybe you’re just not cut out for medical school.”
Her words cut deep, but I knew I had to get to my exam. I was ready to run there if I had to. Suddenly, I heard a small, steady voice behind me. “I know what happened,” said my little brother, Jason, his face serious.
I looked at him, shocked. Jason took a deep breath, his small hands clenched. “I saw Linda last night,” he said, his voice strong. “She went into your room and turned off your alarms.”
Linda’s smirk vanished instantly, her eyes narrowing with anger. “You wouldn’t have made it anyway,” she sneered. “Becoming a doctor is a waste of time and money.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. But Jason wasn’t done. He took my hand and said, “I called for help.” Right then, we heard the sound of sirens approaching. Jason held my hand tightly as two police officers arrived at our house. With courage far beyond his years, Jason explained what had happened. The officers understood the urgency and offered me a ride.
With Jason cheering me on, I climbed into the squad car, and we sped through the streets, the sirens clearing the way. I reached the college just in time, breathless but ready to face my exam. The proctors, moved by my story, allowed me to sit down. As I took my seat, I felt my mother’s spirit with me, giving me strength.
Hours later, when I finished the test, I left the exam hall exhausted but grateful. Back at home, Jason was waiting with a proud smile. We told our dad everything. He listened, a stormy look on his face, and then turned to Linda, saying, “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
Jason had done far more than just get me to my exam—he had exposed the truth and showed incredible bravery. Because of him, my dream was still alive, and I knew that our mother would have been so proud of him.
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