Brittany and I were the same age, fifteen.
But she was way more mature than me, way,
less clueless.
She saw me in her room, and her face tightened
for a second. Then she plastered on this fake
smile and said, “I heard Sarah was coming
home, so I asked to leave class early. Do you
like the room? You can have it.”
Then she bit her lip and looked away.
Mom and Dad were eating it up.
Mom rushed in and pulled me back. “Honey,
why don’t you pick a different room? That one’s
too big. It’s going to be a pain to clean.”
“Why?”
I was genuinely confused.
And I could feel the vibe shifting.
But what did I know? I still thought my parents
were crying because they loved me.
And Brittany seemed to be handing over her
room without a fuss.
I was their real daughter, wasn’t I? Why
couldn’t I just pick the room I wanted?
So I just stood there, staring at them.
Mom’s expression changed again. She was
trying to say something but nothing was coming
out
Г
48
Dad got all serious and didn’t say a word either.
Brittany came over and started fluffing the
pillows. “You can have it. This is your home after all.”
3
And I moved in.
Back in the boonies, all I’d known was pots, pans, fields and farms. Then I came to the city,
and everything was still just pots, pans, fields and farms.
But the city didn’t have any pots, pans, fields and farms.
So I didn’t get it. What was so wrong?
My parents had cried for me, they seemed to
love me.
<
Brittany had even given up her room.
I was their real daughter, wasn’t I. Didn’t I
deserve this?
