Chapter 2

Something in my chest lit up for a second.

At least Dad still remembered me.

I was just about to walk out when I saw my mother's smile vanish in an instant. She rolled her eyes and snapped, "I wasn't finished telling you yet!"

Then she retold the whole afternoon, laying it on thicker than it had happened.

More than once I wanted to rush out and explain. I didn't.

I just watched my father quietly. I wanted to see how he would react.

His face grew darker and darker, and when she finished, he said with disgust, "How did I raise such a worthless thing."

"Makes her own mistake and still has the nerve to sulk. Fine. Nobody call her."

"Let her reflect on herself in her room."

In that moment, my heart went completely cold.

The last shred of hope I had for this family was gone.

Just then my sister glanced toward my room.

Through the crack in the door, our eyes met.

Hers were bright with open, undisguised triumph.

She hugged Dad's arm and said, "Oh, come on, Dad, don't be angry."

"You came home tonight just to celebrate my birthday. If you're unhappy, then I won't celebrate it at all."

He melted at once, all smiles. "That's my Kate, so thoughtful."

"Not like your sister. You can't get a word out of her if you beat it out with a stick!"

"Always throwing that face around. Anyone who didn't know better would think we owed her something."

My mother put on her own sour look. "If you ask me, she's pulling this stunt precisely because it's her sister's birthday."

"She just can't stand to see everyone happy."

Then she deliberately raised her voice. "If she keeps being this difficult, that bowl of birthday noodles for her birthday in a few days? I just won't make it!"

I slowly closed the door, shut my eyes, and forced down the sting behind them.

Outside, my sister laughed loudly. "Oh, you can't do that. My little sister looks forward to those birthday noodles every year."

My mother's voice turned tender. "You're always thinking of her. Every year you remind me to make her noodles for her birthday. And what does she do? Nothing."

"Sigh. If only she had half your sense."

I couldn't listen anymore. I put in my earphones and started watching an English movie.

I followed along with the actors, working my own pronunciation over and over.

Soon the lines pulled me in, and I had no attention left for the cozy little family scene outside.

I was right in the middle of it when my mother pushed the door open and came in.

She set down a slab of cake, its design no longer recognizable, on my desk, her face hard. "This piece is too much to finish. Lucky you."

I looked at the melted cream and remembered this was the cake bought with my hair.

And in the end I didn't even get the right to eat one intact slice.

I pushed the cake away and kept watching the movie. "I don't like cake."

No. At first I did like it.

But after the first time I begged her to buy me a birthday cake and got slapped across the face for it, I couldn't stomach it anymore.

Now even the sweet, cloying smell of cream is enough to make me feel like I'm choking, nauseated.

Right at this moment, I was only holding myself together, trying to keep one last scrap of dignity.

My sister leaned lazily against the doorframe and said in her usual joking tone, "Oh, Mom, I keep telling you, little sister's in her rebellious phase now."

"You go running after her to coax her like this and she won't appreciate it. She'll just take it further."

"See? Told you I'd be right."

My father passed by the door and gave a short laugh, one with a trace of contempt in it, and a trace of knowing.

My mother turned in an instant, like a cat with its tail stepped on.

She grabbed the cake and smashed it into my mouth, cream shooting up into my nose.

I stared at her wide-eyed and saw her staring back, eyes sharp, grinding out through her teeth, "Still got the nerve to act up?"

"I'd like to see what eating this cake is going to do to you."