Chapter 1

Winnie, my ten-year-old sister, was the apple of my parents' eyes. Her frail health consumed most of their attention.

Lucas, my six-year-old brother, was a handful. His constant antics and mischief claimed whatever attention they had left.

When it came to me, all they ever said was, "Be good."

Later, Mom asked me how she could make me forgive her—did I want her to die?

I looked at her, bewildered. "Mom, how can you talk about dying like it's nothing? Do you know how hard I fought to survive the year you abandoned me for Winnie?"

*****

As far back as I could remember, my parents were always busy—busy with work, taking care of my older sister Winnie, who was always sick, and cleaning up after the trouble my younger brother Lucas got into.

They really didn't have any time or energy left for me. Ever since kindergarten, I'd been sent off to boarding school.

So when I stared at the final exam essay prompt, "My Mom," I couldn't write a single word.

I was the only one in my class who failed the exam.

Selena White, our homeroom teacher, had a face like a thundercloud. She told me to take the test home and get it signed.

She had planned to call my parents, but no matter how many times she called, no one ever picked up.

When I got home that weekend, I nervously pulled out the test and handed it to my mom.

She looked at the bright red F on the paper and slapped me across the face.

"What's wrong with you? You're only in second grade and already failing? You ungrateful brat!" Mom snapped, her voice sharp.

She grabbed the baseball bat and swung it at me.

I quickly covered my head and curled up into a ball—as usual.

But today, she didn't hit me for long. After just two strikes, she stopped.

I opened my eyes and peeked through the gap between my arms.

Mom clutched the bat, her arms wrapped around Dad.

She sobbed, "Oh, my poor Winnie."

That night, Mom and Dad didn't even bother making dinner. They just locked the door and hurried out.

At midnight, Grandma rushed over from town with a bag of bread. Only then did I learn that Winnie was back in the hospital again.

Grandma told me to go clean up the kitchen.

I knew she was fixing Lucas a late-night snack—probably fried chicken drumsticks. I'd smelled them ages ago.

I stood up, stretched, and snuck another bread.

"You little rascal, eating all day long, huh?" Grandma shouted after me.

I shut the kitchen door behind me and started wolfing down the bread with some ketchup, pretending it was a fried chicken drumstick.

Tears stung my eyes, but I bit my lip, fighting hard to hold them back.

Winnie had Mom and Dad, and Lucas had Grandma.

I'd got nothing.

For a kid nobody wanted, like me, tears were worthless.

I'd never had a birthday party growing up. When I was little, Mom and Dad would at least blow me off with empty promises—talking about getting me a big cake, a Barbie doll.

But Winnie was always so sick, spending more than half the year in the hospital.

My parents never even remembered my birthday at all.

At first, I'd remind them. But every time, it'd just get me hit.

"Winnie's in this situation, and all you care about are birthday gifts?" Mom'd yell.

Later, I got smart. I just treated their promises like they were nothing.

On a Friday, the year I was about to graduate from elementary school, Yolanda whispered to me, "You're gonna get a cake this year. Your parents went to my cousin Linda's bakery and ordered a huge cream cake yesterday. She said it looked amazing."

She leaned in closer. "I told Linda to put extra strawberries on it for you. Make sure you eat it; don't let Lucas get his hands on it."

Even though I'd been let down by my parents so many times before, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope.

I thought about that cake all day long, even daydreaming about what it would look like during class.

That afternoon, I packed up my stuff early and set it by my desk. The second the bell rang, I bolted out.

But I didn't get far. Selena caught me red-handed.

She snapped, "Did the teacher say the class was over? Graduation's around the corner, and you're still acting like this?"

She made me stay behind, and by the time I finally got home, it was way past dinner.

When I pushed open the door, I saw my whole family sitting around the table. Right in front of Winnie was the huge strawberry cake I'd been dreaming about all day.

But it was already half gone.

Mom froze as she saw me, like she hadn't even realized I wasn't there.

To mask her awkwardness, she started yelling, "Where the hell have you been after school? Do you expect the whole family to wait for you?"

She kept grumbling as she cut off a piece of what was left and shoved it at me. "You can't even get the scraps while they're still warm!"

Mom had real skill—she managed to slice off a tiny piece for me without a single strawberry, just a thin smear of cream.

I glanced at her but didn't take the cake. Instead, I turned and went straight to my room.

Mom snapped again. She yanked me by the hair and slammed my head down onto the table.

"How dare you give me that attitude? We've worked so hard to support you, and this is how you repay us?" she shouted.

Her yelling was so loud that it drew every neighbor in the building.

With an audience, Mom turned up the drama, ranting at the top of her lungs about how ungrateful and disrespectful I was.

"Just because we didn't wait for her to have some cake, she came back sulking!" she screeched.

Yolanda's mom couldn't stand it anymore, stepping in. "Come on, it's Cherry's birthday today. Let's skip the spanking, okay?"

Yolanda, fuming, put her hands on her hips and yelled among the crowd, "That's so unfair. Cherry's never even had a birthday cake in her whole life. But whenever Winnie wants one, you just go and buy it for her."

My parents froze, looking awkward, and stopped hitting me.

I picked myself up off the floor, grabbed a bottle of medicinal oil from the living room, and limped back to my room.

Mom and Dad stood there, looking totally lost as they tried to handle the gawking neighbors.