Chapter 2

There were four rooms in the house. One for my parents, one for my brother, one for Vera.

And one for Vera's toys.

Vera didn't want to share a room with me, and she wouldn't throw out any of her toys.

"Mom, Dad, my sister smells."

My parents looked at me, at a loss.

"Clara, there really isn't any space in the house. You should board at school."

"It's quiet there. Better for your studies too."

My brother chimed in.

"It works out. You grew up in the countryside, so you're behind. Boarding gives you more time to study."

"Two birds, one stone."

Vera and I were in the same class.

The other kids looked at how thin and small I was.

"Vera, is Clara really your sister?"

"You look taller than she does!"

Vera always just smiled and said nothing.

Every day after school, my parents picked her up and took her home. Even when their eyes landed on me, all I got was a flat reminder.

"Clara, don't cause trouble at school, and listen to your teachers."

So I boarded, and I ate in the school cafeteria. But my parents always forgot to pay my meal fees.

Until I fainted from hunger in class and was taken to the hospital, where the exam came back as severe malnutrition.

The teacher hinted, gently, that they were all their own children, and they shouldn't only pay attention to one.

My parents brought me home.

The moment I stepped through the door, my mother smashed a cup, her eyes red.

Her voice was full of wounded grievance.

"Clara!"

"Tell me, what have we ever done to wrong you, that you'd go around telling people we mistreat you?"

"You won't be happy until you've shamed us, will you?"

"You're just like your grandmother. You can't stand seeing us be good to Vera!"

While Grandma was alive, she'd once had a huge fight with my parents over the way they ignored me.

After that, my mother didn't want to see me, and she didn't want to see Grandma either.

Vera cried too.

"My sister told people at school that I bully her at home…"

At school I always kept to myself. I had nothing to wear but one set of the uniform.

The other kids whispered that I was the family's punching bag.

When Vera found out, she shoved me flat on my back, and got a scolding from the teacher for it.

My father held Vera in his arms, his face gone cold.

"Clara, we always thought that even if you never grew up by our side, at least you'd know to be grateful."

"But instead you ruin Vera's name, and on top of that you want to make your mother and me too ashamed to face anyone!"

My brother added, "Clara, imagine if you put all this scheming against your own family into your studies instead."

No comfort, no concern. Only blame.

I lowered my head in silence.

I used to defend myself, once. They always said the same thing, unhappy with me.

"Clara, can't you just be honest? When you're wrong, admit it. Why do you always have to argue your way out?"

From that day on, all the way through college, I studied as hard as I could, working for one thing only: to leave this family.