Chapter 3
Mom closed the door, her chest still heaving, muttering under her breath, "Oliver is the real troublemaker. He's got all of you fooled."
I floated next to Mom, watching her face all twisted up, and my heart sank.
Mom, I wished I could be the kind of kid you never have to worry about.
Dad came into my room once and stood by my bed for a long time.
He let out a sigh and whispered, "Oliver, I know things have been tough for you.
"But your mom is really having a hard time because of Wilbur. She's barely holding it together."
His hand hovered in the air, like he wanted to comfort me, but in the end, he let it fall.
He tucked the blanket around me.
"Once you fall asleep, you won't be sad anymore. Tomorrow, I'll make your favorite eggs," he said softly.
Then he turned and walked away, his back looking hunched and tired.
Dad, I was sleep now and not sad anymore.
But it seemed I won't be able to eat the eggs tomorrow.
Before bed, Mom came in to check on me, grumbling as she did.
"You're such a troublemaker," she muttered. "All you ever do is sleep. If I raise a cat or a dog, it would at least make me smile."
She walked over to my bed.
I wished so much she'd fuss over me like she did when Wilbur was sick. Maybe she would check my forehead, maybe even pick me up and hold me tight.
But instead, she jabbed my shoulder through the blanket.
"Oliver, stop pretending and get up," she snapped.
I didn't move at all.
Mom's brows knitted together. "So stubborn, huh? Let's see how long you can keep this up."
Wilbur got startled by the loud slam of the door and started crying that he was scared.
Mom walked past my door, cradling Wilbur and humming a lullaby.
Mom sang, "The moon is bright, the wind is calm, leaves cover the window. My baby, close your eyes..."
Back then, she used to hum that same song to me.
It was when Wilbur wasn't born yet.
She used to rock me in her arms, calling me her precious baby.
But that was so long ago, it felt like it happened in another life.
By noon the next day, I still hadn't gotten up.
Mom was getting nervous. "Could the brat Oliver really be sick? I've tried everything, but he won't wake up."
Dad looked worried too. "Let me go check on him."
But Mom had second thoughts and blocked Dad from going in.
"What's the point? He's just faking it. If you go in now, you'll be playing right into his hands," she shot back.
They thought I was giving them the silent treatment out of spite.
But Mom, Dad, I was not sulking or trying to get back at you.
I just couldn't wake up anymore.
The house felt different today.
Mom had brought home a gorgeous cake, covered with adorable little animals.
I suddenly remembered it was Wilbur's birthday.
It was mine too.
Wilbur and I share the same birthday. Mom always joked that we were meant to be brothers.
But later, she started saying I was a bad lucky charm, and would hurt Wilbur.
Our house was packed with people. Grandmas and grandpas from both sides of the family came.
They all brought gifts, but every single one was for Wilbur.
There was the latest Ultraman toy and a pair of cool overalls.
No one remembered that today was my birthday too.
No one even asked, "Where's Oliver?"
Wilbur was running around the living room in his new clothes, looking just like a little prince.
Everyone was all smiles, showering Wilbur with praise, calling him adorable and clever.
Mom was beaming, her eyes crinkling with happiness.
I couldn't help but smile too.
Finally, Mom was smiling again.
Grandpa suddenly looked around and asked, "Where's Oliver?"
Mom's smile disappeared right away, and she snapped, "Don't even bring him up. He's been sulking in his room for days, and won't get out of bed or eat. He's just causing trouble.
"It's a happy occasion. Don't let him come out and ruin it."
Grandma sighed. "That boy's got a stubborn streak."
And just like that, no one mentioned me again.
When it was time to cut the cake, Wilbur piped up, "Save a piece for Oliver!"
Mom kissed Wilbur on the cheek. "You're such a sweet kid, always thinking about your brother. But he doesn't deserve any of your birthday cake."
Dad hesitated for a moment, then stood up. "We should still take him a piece. He hasn't eaten in two days."
Mom shot him a glare. "No way! He's just throwing a tantrum, trying to get us to fuss over him.
"If we give in now, who knows what he'll pull next?"
Dad looked at Mom, saw how furious she was, and with a heavy sigh, sank back into his seat, defeated.
From outside, I could hear the birthday song.
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."
It was all for Wilbur.
The singing was so loud, I couldn't even get to sleep.
"Mom, look, I'm being good now," I wanted to say.
I wasn't sulking or acting out.
I wasn't causing you any worries anymore.
I won't touch Wilbur's candy, or play with his Ultraman car, or do anything to upset you ever again.
The cake was finished, and the guests were about to head out.
Wilbur, arms loaded with presents, rushed off to his room.