Chapter 3

Right then, the door swung open.

My parents came back with Norah, and none of them was carrying anything.

Sure enough, less than a minute later, there was another knock at the door.

Sales reps from every luxury flagship paraded in, arms full of logo bags. Five minutes later, the living room looked like a Neiman Marcus stockroom had exploded.

Norah raised an eyebrow, looking at me with utter disdain as I sat there with my takeout. She said, "Mom, Dad, look at Remy. She's pigging out on junk food and didn't even bother to wait for us."

My dad frowned. He shot a sharp look at the table and snapped, "Remy, you deaf or just defiant? No garbage in my house. How'd I get stuck with a kid who can't even act human? Be one-tenth of Norah, and I'd throw a damn parade."

Mom glanced at me coldly, too.

I sighed. I set down my fork and headed back to my room, feeling their judgmental eyes burning into my back.

After a while, I heard someone eating downstairs.

Norah had swiped my spot, fresh fork in hand, shoveling those takeouts like it was her last meal. TV on full blast, mouth full, cackling at some reality-show meltdown.

My parents were on either side of her, fussing over her: wiping her mouth, and reminding her to take it easy.

They were a far cry from the way they'd looked at me just moments ago.

Figures. The one who was always favored just got away with everything.

But hey, at least I'd be out of here soon enough.

Early the next morning, I hit the courthouse and walked out with my emancipation order, one sheet of paper that said Remy.

One copy for me, one for the clerk, and zero for my parents.

With my emancipation order in hand, I went to school to handle my transfer.

The teacher looked at me, surprised. She said, "Remy, you're transferring? Your parents have to take care of the transfer, you know."

I shook my head and showed her my emancipation order. I said, "No need. I'm emancipated. My signature's enough. New guardian's filing the papers this week; he'll copy the school once it's final."

My grandpa had already given the school a heads-up, so the whole process was a breeze.

Staring at the date on my transfer application, I realized I still had a full two days left. Just two days from now, I'd be on a plane, finally breaking free and kicking off a brand new chapter in my life.

In the afternoon, I went to say goodbye to some of my old classmates I used to be close with, and ended up getting home pretty late.

Just like always, no matter how late I got back, my parents never even called to check on me.

As I opened the door, I could hear the lively chatter from the living room: Norah was pouting cutely, trying to get my dad wrapped around her finger.

I paused for a second, then walked in.

The laughter slammed shut.

The whole house reeked of sugar-roasted chestnuts: sweet, burnt, and suffocating.

Norah was holding tight to a bag of chestnuts.

The moment I caught that sickly sweet smell, I instinctively wanted to escape to my room.

But Norah called out to me, "Remy, these chestnuts are delicious. Dad even shelled out extra cash to have them sent over. Come have a taste."

I pretended not to hear her and hurried straight to my room.

Suddenly, Norah started whining, sounding all pitiful. She choked out, "Remy, I know you never liked me, but Dad went out of his way to get these chestnuts for you. Can't you accept it for his sake?"

I froze with my hand on the doorknob, then muttered under my breath, "I'm not having any, thanks."

"Remy, what's with the attitude?" my dad snapped from behind me.

He glared at me, face stern. He demanded, "Remy, this is what I taught you? Norah's sitting on her favorite chestnuts, waiting for you, and you pull this ice-queen crap? Who's the audience, huh?"

I stayed silent, but my face said it all: I was clearly refusing.

My mom ran out of patience. She ripped the chestnuts from Norah, peeled two in a blur, and crammed one past my clenched teeth before I could shove her hand away.

She snapped, "Let's see if eating this chestnut will really kill you. Didn't I tell you? Norah's 18th birthday party is in two days. I told you to behave, but you just have to make trouble, don't you?"

That sugary chestnut tasted like ashes on my tongue.

My mom shoved her hand over my mouth, not even letting me try to spit it out.

In the past, I might've forced myself to swallow the chestnut just to act obedient, but now, I was done being the good girl.

I shoved my mom away and spat the chestnut onto the floor.

My mom was shaking with rage, raised her hand, ready to slap me.

But I moved out of the way and looked at her, calm and steady. I asked, "Mom, if eating this chestnut would actually kill me, would you still force me to eat it?"

My mom paused, then her anger flared even hotter. She thought I was just trying to push her buttons. She snapped, "What'd you say? Want to die? Then go ahead. Die right here and save me the trouble."

I gave her a faint smile and said, "Mom, you forgot? Chestnuts shut my throat at six. You fed me one, and the ER team spent twenty-four hours prying me back to life. Remember now?"

My mom was genuinely stunned. She stared at me like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.