2: 2
I remembered the way home. No trafficker ever snatched me off the street.
It was just that no matter how hard I studied for a perfect score, no matter how useful I made myself, Mom would never spare me a second glance.
When I judged the time was about right and stood up, my legs had gone numb from crouching so long.
I'd made a whole table of food.
Mom loved garlic-butter shrimp and green salad.
My brother loved braised pork and egg tarts.
I had just carried the last dish out when Mom and Max came home.
Mom kept smiling and chatting with him, never once looking at me.
I edged closer, careful:
"Mom, I made dinner for you and Max."
She looked at the loaded table as if seeing it for the first time.
"Elijah, who told you to waste all this food?"
"Haven't I said I'm decluttering? Why do you keep making garbage for me?"
"You didn't actually think I'd be touched, did you?"
I didn't know what to do with my hands.
"It's not garbage."
"I figured you probably hadn't eaten yet, so I made some of the things you like."
Slap!
Mom's hand landed across my face.
"You figured? You wasted all these groceries on a feeling?"
"Have you studied yourself stupid?"
Max looked at the red mark on my face and clapped, laughing.
"Mom took me out for seafood today. One king crab costs eight hundred and eighty-eight dollars, and I ate four in one sitting."
"Hey! Eli, why's your nose all red? You look like a clown!"
He ran up to the table and started flinging the dishes like frisbees.
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Take that, clown!"
I couldn't dodge fast enough. Sauce splashed all over me.
My arm blistered from the heat, shards cut my skin, and beads of blood welled up.
The floor I'd spent most of the afternoon mopping three times over
was now covered in the food I'd made.
Mom watched Max with a doting look.
"Amazing, Max!"
"Hits every time!"
Then she shoved me.
"Can't you make sure Max hits you every single time? The plates don't move. Are you dead too? Nailed to the spot?"
Caught off guard, I fell into the sauce and the broken shards.
Fragments dug into my palms and knees, a piercing pain.
Blood mixed with the spilled sauce.
Max pinched his nose and broke into a little dance to fan away the smell.
An obnoxious backing track blared out into the living room.
"I really love you so much, so why are you crying~"
Mom applauded.
"That's my city-born Max for you. He's even got a talent for dancing."
"Dance and take out the trash for Mom while you're at it. Just like Mom, you know how to declutter."
Max danced harder, his footprints tracking sauce everywhere.
Mom turned to me, her face cold.
"Home all day doing nothing but causing trouble!"
"Clean up this mess. You're not allowed to sleep until it's done!"
Thinking of the acceptance letter, I pulled the porcelain shards out of my palms and knees.
Biting back the pain, I started cleaning all over again.
Mom muttered something under her breath.
I heard it.
Mom said, if I'd known it would turn out like this, I never should have given birth to you back in that town.
A dull ache spread through my chest, and somehow it made the pain in my knees and palms fade away.
By the time I carried the last bag of trash downstairs, it was past midnight.
My stomach growled with hunger.
But orientation was at dawn, and my acceptance letter was still with Mom.
After going back and forth in my head, I decided to go up and ask her for it.
But I entered the code three times, and each time it was wrong.
On the fourth try, Mom's phone rang.
"What are you doing at the door in the middle of the night?"
