Chapter 2

"Is it good?" Lionel asked.

I nodded, smiling. "It's good." Anything Lionel gives me always tastes great.

Soon, my mouth started burning fiercely.

Then pain exploded in my throat, stomach, and chest—so intense I ended up rolling around on the floor, writhing in agony.

The sound of my brothers jeering echoed in my ears.

"I knew she'd drink it," one of them said.

"Good? Of course it's good. Chili water is just delicious, right?" another sneered.

"Bet you won't snitch on us next time," a third taunted.

I was dying for a drink, but my brothers had hogged every water source in the house.

I ran into the kitchen, scrambled up onto the counter, and turned on the faucet.

My brothers burst out laughing as I gulped water with my head thrown back, mocking me and saying I looked just like a toad.

I kept chugging cold water, gulp after gulp, hoping it would help.

My belly was so full, it felt like it was about to burst.

My eyes watered nonstop from the burning, and before I'd even taken a few steps, I ended up throwing up everything.

The beautiful carpet was now stained with yellow vomit.

Emily saw the mess and grumbled under her breath.

"What's wrong with you? Just like your mother, never letting anyone have a moment's peace," she muttered. "If you keep acting up, I'll go straight to your dad."

Somebody scooped me up. But I could barely catch my breath.

Mom flashed through my mind.

I clutched the necklace around my neck; it was the last thing she ever left me.

'Was it because I was bad?' I wondered. 'Is that why she left me behind? But Angela's been good now... When will Mom come back?'

After Emily cleaned me up, I buried myself under the covers, trying to hide.

My stomach ached.

My face was burning.

No matter how much I rolled around in the big bed, I just couldn't find a comfortable spot.

I couldn't fall asleep for a long time.

Late at night, I heard Dad's footsteps.

I carefully climbed out of bed, cracked the door open, and peeked my head out.

I wanted to tell Dad my tummy hurt.

But Dad looked scary, his face as dark as a thundercloud.

"Why aren't you asleep at this hour?" he asked. "Why can't you ever learn to behave?"

I stared down at my small, pale feet.

'Is it because I'm still not good enough that Mom doesn't want to come back?' I thought.

My lips quivered, and I wanted to cry again.

But Dad scooped me up and carried me back to bed.

"Don't act out again," he said.

"Okay, Dad," I mumbled.

He tucked me in, and I was about to tell him my stomach still hurt.

But then his phone rang, and he walked out.

I know he'd always be so busy—he didn't even eat with us.

I just kept quiet.

Drifting in and out of sleep, I could almost see Mom, just out of reach.

Mom walked out on us when I was three.

That day, I didn't do what she told me.

I went and told Dad that Mom wanted to ride the carousel with me.

Dad totally lost it again, his temper flaring.

He snapped at Mom, "Henrietta, are you really dragging our kid into this? Don't you feel bad at all?"

They were shouting at each other, voices echoing through the house.

We ended up at the amusement park after all.

Mom said she'd go buy some ice cream and told me to wait right there.

But then this gorgeous butterfly flew by, so I ran after it, and when I finally stopped, Mom was nowhere to be seen.

Eventually, Dad showed up with a bunch of guys in black suits and had the whole amusement park locked down.

When Dad looked at me for the first time, his eyes were wild, like a monster about to gobble me up.

I asked, my voice shaking, "Where's Mom?"

I just broke down crying, totally freaked out.

After that, Mom was just... gone from my life.

All three of my brothers said it was my fault that Mom left us.

I kept trying to be good, doing whatever Dad and my brothers said.

Maybe if I'm good, Mom will come back.