My Father's Point-Based Game

To prevent me from being jealous of my stepmother's son, my dad implemented a "family point system".

Washing dishes earned 1 point, and getting a perfect score on a test earned 10 points.

Accumulating 1000 points meant you could make a wish come true.

When my stepbrother broke a vase, Dad said it was a sign of good luck and awarded him 50 points.

When I insisted on going to school with a fever, Dad said I was trying to garner sympathy and deducted 100 points.

I scrambled to scrape together every point I could, all for that exorbitant Math Olympiad registration form.

On the day I finally accumulated enough points, my stepbrother cried and said he wanted a pair of limited-edition sneakers.

Dad immediately emptied my points. "We're family. Your points are your brother's points too."

I looked at the torn-up application form and jumped from the 18th-floor balcony.

A loud crash came from the living room.

I was in my room, grinding away at Olympiad math problems. My hand slipped, and the pen tip drew a long black line across the paper.

I knew that sound all too well.

Last time, when I was washing dishes, I accidentally broke a cheap white plate.

My dad, Gary Mills, deducted 50 points.

The reason: carelessness and damaging public property.

50 points. I would have to get five perfect scores in exams or wash 50 dishes to earn that back.

The living room was dead silent.

I put down my pen and pushed the door open.

The floor was a mess.

That antique vase, Dad's pride and joy, had shattered into pieces.

My stepbrother was stepping on a soccer ball with a nonchalant smirk on his face.

My stepmother, Esther, was crouching on the floor.

"Oh dear, Patrick, how could you be so careless? This is Gary's favorite vase..."

She scolded Patrick, but at the same time, completely shielded him from my father.

Dad stood beside her with a grim face, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

I leaned against the doorframe, feeling a strange sense of schadenfreude.

That vase was supposedly worth thousands of dollars.

According to the "family point system" rules, damaging property resulted in a point deduction equivalent to the property's value.

Patrick's pitiful amount of points wouldn't even cover the cost. It would go into the negatives.

I waited for the show to begin.

Dad took a deep breath, his eyes going back and forth between Patrick and the shards on the floor.

Patrick pouted. "I was just kicking a ball around. The vase wasn't very steady."

I scoffed.

If it were me, I'd have been slapped by now.

Dad glanced at Esther, who was already tearing up, as if they were a pitiful widow and a single child who were about to be bullied.

Dad suddenly smiled.

"It's alright, it's alright."

Dad waved his hand.

"There's an old saying, breaking a vase brings good luck! This will bring good luck to our family!"

I was stunned.

Bring good luck?

Last week, when I broke a plate, he called me a "good-for-nothing".

Dad walked over to the large whiteboard on the wall.

He picked up a whiteboard marker and wrote under Patrick's name.

"Patrick is energetic and brings life to the house. He broke a vase to bring good luck to our family! +50 points!"

I couldn't stand it and rushed out of the room.

"Dad! The plate I broke only cost five bucks, yet you deducted 50 points from me. This vase is worth thousands, and you're giving him points?"

Dad turned around, the smile instantly disappearing from his face.

"How old are you, Myra? Why do you have to make things difficult for your younger brother?"

"It's not making things difficult! It's about your rules!" I pointed to the whiteboard. "You said everyone would be treated equally in the family point system!"

"I'm doing this for the sake of this family's harmony!"

Dad slammed the marker on the table.

"I'm Patrick's stepfather. If I'm too strict with Patrick, people will say I'm abusing him. I'm strict with you because I'm your father and I have high hopes for you! Don't you understand that?"

It was always this same excuse.

To avoid suspicion, for the sake of his reputation, for optics, he treated his own daughter like dirt and his stepson like treasure.

"I can't accept it." I stared intently at that glaring "+50".

Dad snorted and uncapped the pen again.

"Disrespecting elders and talking back."

Under the column "Myra", he wrote: "-20".

"I was going to let things slide, but since you love keeping score so much, let's lay it all out."

He pointed to the previous record on the whiteboard.

"The other day, you had a fever and didn't go to extra classes, so you wasted my money. You admitted it yourself. -100 points."

I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

That day, I had a 100-degree fever and could barely stand.

But Dad said I was putting on an act to avoid studying.

"Fine."

I lowered my head, my nails digging into my flesh.

"As long as I save up a thousand points, I can exchange it for the Olympiad math class application form, right?"

Dad waved his hand impatiently. "As long as you can do it, I always keep my word."

I turned around and went back to my room.

Behind me, I heard Esther's voice say, "Gary, you're so kind to Patrick. Patrick, hurry up and thank your father."

"Thank you, Dad. You're the best, unlike Myra. She's a miser."

I closed the door, shutting out that room full of disgusting behavior.

I took out the Olympiad math workbook.

Blood from my nose dripped on the pages and formed a crimson flower. I wiped it away nonchalantly.

200 points.

I only needed 200 more points for the application form.

With it, I could join the camp. It would only last a month, but it would allow me to escape this suffocating home.

For this goal, I was willing to put aside my dignity and become a point-earning machine.