Chapter 2
My mom caused a scene.
She stared at the thick smoke pouring out of the room and shrieked, "Oh no, what's happening? Hurry, help! Somebody, put out the fire!"
Everyone scrambled for water, rushing frantically to put out the fire.
The living room was empty.
Expressionless, I made my way toward the prize box.
Half an hour later, the fire was finally out.
"Thank goodness we caught it in time. Only the blanket got burned, nothing else was touched," Mom said with relief.
But then she glanced up and saw me just standing there in the living room, while my sister's wrists were all red and marked up from carrying buckets of water.
Seething with anger, she snatched up a teacup and flung it straight at my head.
"The whole house is about to go up in flames, and you're just standing there all calm?" my mom yelled.
"What, are you trying to make me drop dead so you can snag the inheritance quicker?" she snorted.
I dodged sideways, and the cup smashed to pieces on the floor.
Mom instantly snatched up a broom, ready to batter me with it.
My younger sister Beatrice rushed to block Mom, saying, "Don't do this, Mom! Stella didn't even eat breakfast before going out. She's so hungry; how could she react fast?"
Just like always, whenever my parents started laying into me, she'd be quick to make excuses on my behalf.
But in truth, every word out of her mouth was secretly setting me up.
I couldn't care less.
I just watched her pat Mom's back, that satisfied little smirk creeping onto her face.
Just keep acting, and soon you'll be out of tricks.
The tension in the room was practically crackling by now.
Right then, my dad, the eternal peacemaker, jumped into smoothing things over, as usual.
"Okay, okay, let's not spoil the celebration over a little thing like this. Raffle time! Sticking with our old tradition, Stella and Beatrice get first dibs; the rest of you hold tight," he said.
He continued saying, "Everyone's busted their butts this year, so I've prepped some seriously fancy gifts for you all."
The whole family was buzzing with excitement.
Dad brought over a cardboard box and set it right in front of me and said, "Stella, you're up. In our family, you always get first pick. Go ahead."
"But let's get one thing straight; no matter what you pull out, don't throw a tantrum or make a fuss," he added.
"Got it, Dad," I replied.
The affection in his eyes looked real, but everything he did just made me want to puke.
I calmly reached into the box.
As expected, I drew the red ball, as always.
"Wow, it's the red ball. Stella, you're really in for some good luck today," Beatrice said.
She glanced at me with envy and reached into the box for her turn.
Just like clockwork, Mom stopped her, saying the same old line she repeated every year.
"There are only two balls in the box, one red, one yellow. Stella already picked the red one, so obviously the yellow one's yours. No need to draw," said Mom.
Mom handed out the red and yellow gift bags she'd prepped on the table, one for me, one for Beatrice.
Beatrice snatched up the yellow gift bag, barely gave it a glance before bursting out in excitement.
"Oh my god, Mom, Dad, I won!" she shrieked.
"I drew the Bentley!"
"You guys are the best! Love you so much!"
Beatrice was practically bursting, singing, spinning, totally unable to contain herself.
Everyone in the family was beaming, totally hyped for her.
"See what I mean? Beatrice's got all the luck; she always snags the jackpot!"
"I've watched this kid since she was little; she's just born lucky! Whatever she picks, it's always the best stuff!"
My parents couldn't stop smiling, beaming so hard it looked like their faces might crack.
Dad chuckled, "You silly thing, no need to thank us! That's all your luck, nothing to do with me or your mom."
Mom snorted, "Yeah, unlike Stella, even luck dropped right on her lap, she just brushes it off."
I snapped back, "Excuse me, what's that supposed to mean?"
Dad shot Mom a look, then turned to me, speaking in that gentle but solemn fatherly way.
"Stella, don't forget what I always told you; if you play along, you play by the rules."
"No matter what you end up drawing, you've got to be satisfied and thankful. That's what shows true character and good upbringing."
"Yeah, Dad, I know," I replied. He'd been saying the same thing for twenty-six years.
Dad nodded and then praised, "Good kid."
With that, Dad turned away, getting ready to let the rest of the family pick their prizes.
Just then, a relative caught sight of the keys Beatrice had pulled out and shouted in shock.
"Wait a second; these are for an electric scooter! Where's that Bentley you were talking about?"