Chapter 3

My parents were waiting at the restaurant entrance. When Jocelyn got out of the car, they went over to hug her, smiling.

But when they saw me, their smiles froze.

"What are you doing here?"

Realizing how that sounded, they quickly backtracked. "What we mean is, where did you disappear to this afternoon? We looked everywhere for you."

They didn't sound convinced themselves, and I didn't call them on it.

When we were little, my sister took my doll, and my parents told me not to make a fuss.

I ran out angry. By the time I came back, they'd finished dinner.

My mother brought me a plate of leftovers and called me selfish. She said I'd worried everyone and they'd spent ages out looking for me.

I didn't say anything. I forced down the leftovers despite the lump in my throat.

I'd been crouching by the front door the whole time. All they'd had to do was open it to see me.

That was the day I accepted that my parents didn't love me.

At the table, Jocelyn took the seat in the middle.

I was about to sit down next to Garrett when my mother stopped me.

"Move down. Let Garrett sit with your sister so he can look after her."

Garrett spoke up too. "Evelyn, sit over there. There's a seat free."

I looked where he was pointing. It was a seat at the far corner of the table, where I could barely reach the food.

By the time I turned back, they were all seated.

There was nowhere else to sit.

I said nothing and sat in the corner.

Not long after they ordered, the food came out.

Nashville hot chicken, Buffalo cauliflower, shrimp in spicy tomato sauce...

Every dish on that table had chili in it. Everything was just as spicy as Jocelyn liked it.

Ever since I was little, spicy food had hurt my throat. I couldn't eat it.

So I put down my fork and was about to ask the server for a plate of shrimp without the chili.

My mother looked taken aback and quickly stopped me.

"There's shrimp right there. Why order another plate of it?"

"I can't eat spicy food."

Garrett stopped peeling shrimp and looked across the table.

"I remember you eating spicy food before. Why didn't you say something sooner?"

He was thinking of the first lunch he'd ever packed for me. He'd put chili in it.

I didn't want to disappoint him, so I ate it anyway.

That day, my throat became so inflamed and swollen that I couldn't speak.

He cried as he apologized and promised he would always remember that I couldn't eat spicy food.

His "always" had lasted all of five years.

I was about to explain.

But he had already turned away. He put the peeled shrimp in Jocelyn's bowl and lovingly ruffled her hair.

I closed my mouth again.

What would explaining have changed?

My mother had the server bring a bowl of plain water. She dropped a few shrimp in, swirled them around, and tossed them onto my plate.

"Just rinse them off. Why order a whole other plate? What makes you so special?

"Why can't you be more like your sister? Jocelyn has never given us a moment's worry."

I wanted to tell her why Jocelyn never gave them a moment's worry.

They made every decision based on what she liked.

They never considered me at all.

But I stopped myself before the words came out.

What good would defending myself do?

They would only think I was making a fuss again, picking fights over every little thing.

I peeled one of the shrimp my mother had rinsed and tossed onto my plate.

I took a bite. It was still so spicy that my throat stung.

I gulped down water until the pain eased a little.

My mother glanced over.

"See? You can eat it. You were just making a fuss. Good thing I didn't give in."

I said nothing. I set the fork aside and drank my water.