Chapter 1

Through college I worked and studied at the same time, coming home every day wrung out, and there was never once a decent dish left for me at the table.

The barbecue ribs were picked down to the bone, the baked fish to the spine.

A few limp vegetable leaves floated in the soup bowl.

In the living room, my parents and my brother were laughing themselves sick in front of the TV.

I had no strength to argue, so I put water on to boil for noodles and started washing dishes.

My mother heard the noise and rushed in to shut off the burner.

"You think gas is free?"

"Mom, I'm hungry. I just want to cook a bowl of noodles."

"Cook what noodles? Didn't we leave you food? A grown girl like you, still this picky?"

I looked at the plates of scraps, leftovers that looked like slop, and let out a sigh. "You expect me to eat that?"

"Why can't you eat it?"

She scooped a little rice into the bowl of bare bones. "That barbecue sauce smells good, doesn't it? Don't waste it. Hurry up and eat, then wash the dishes."

I didn't take the bowl. My eyes just went hot as I asked her, "Mom, I work to pay my own tuition. I'm really tired. Can't I have one bowl of hot noodles?"

"No!"

"Either you eat that rice, or you go hungry."

"I don't know who spoiled you into these disgusting habits."

"And another thing. What does a girl need school for?"

"Work a couple of years, then find a man and get married."

"You actually think you'll change your fate with knowledge?"

...

Under my mother's contemptuous stare.

I bit down hard on my lip.

The tears spilled out before I could stop them.

I'd lost count of how many times I'd cried.

There was nowhere to put the hurt in my chest.

In my parents' eyes.

Nothing I did was ever right.

When other kids brought home an award, their parents would be happy about it for days.

But mine?

The moment I brought an award home.

Their faces would go long.

They'd curse me for showing off.

It was just a worthless piece of paper.

And after the cursing.

They'd toss it straight in the trash.

But my brother?

Bottom of his class, fighting, skipping school, smoking.

Not even one semester in.

Called out by teachers to bring in his parents dozens of times.

By any reason, they should have straightened him out long ago.

They didn't.

Instead, whatever my brother asked for, whatever he wanted to eat.

They gave him all of it.

"What's going on here?"

My father's voice came closer.

He walked into the kitchen and saw my tears.

His brow creased slightly. "You upset your mother again?"

I shook my head, biting my lip. "I didn't."

"Still arguing back?"

"Look at your mother, she's shaking she's so angry!"

My father never asked what had actually happened.

He just laid the whole blame on me.

My mother said, "Your daughter's being picky."

My father's face fell at once.

"Picky again?"

"Every time we leave you food."

"You won't touch it."

"You think you're some rich man's daughter?"

"Your stomach too delicate for it?"

"Won't eat, huh? Then from now on, you don't eat at all!"