My Family Auctioned Everything, So I Put My Life on the Block

The year my sister turned fifteen, my father, Grant Davis, became obsessed with holding auctions at home. Everything in the house, from a plate of meat to a turn with the washing machine, from school lunch money to after-school activity fees, had to be won by bidding with family credits. I worked odd jobs until I dropped, sleeping only three hours a night, and finally saved up a thick stack of family credits, the paper soft and warped from my sweat. All Melody had to do was sit on the couch and shed a few tears, and my father would stuff fistfuls of credits into her arms. "Girls deserve to be spoiled. Can't have Melody feeling left out." That day, the item up for auction was an old necklace that had belonged to my grandmother, Ruth Bennett. Eyes burning, I pushed everything I had onto the table. "Eight thousand." Melody tossed out ten thousand without a second thought, her voice sweet and wheedling. "This necklace would go perfectly with my new dress." I begged my father through tears. "This is the only thing Grandma ever left me. Please." My father slapped me so hard my ears rang and my vision blurred. "Highest bidder wins. That's the rule! You're too poor to win, so don't blame anyone else!" Melody snatched the necklace, gave it a look of disgust, and casually tossed it into the roaring fireplace. "Oops, the fire's getting low. This'll make good kindling." I threw myself at the fireplace. The back of my hand split open instantly from the heat, the skin blistering and peeling away. They left, slamming the door behind them, complaining that my screaming was bad luck in the house. Later, I couldn't stop thinking. If I put my own life on the auction block, how many credits would you bid?