I sat on the bed, my hands trembling.Three days earlier, I'd turned eighteen.Nobody remembered. No one even called.I made myself a bowl of instant noodles and drifted through the day in a daze.The next morning, Mom called me long-distance."Sweetheart, Sophie's eighteenth birthday party is coming up."That girl insists you come home for it, so pack your things."Oh, and she wants one of those iPhones. Buy her one."I opened my mouth, then pressed my lips shut again.I wanted to ask them for money, but then I remembered that helpless prophecy from all those years ago.For as long as I could remember, whenever I spent even one extra cent of the family's money, disaster followed.Bumps and bruises were a regular part of my life. I'd even spent three days and nights in the ICU.So, to stay alive, I ate leftovers and wore Sophie's hand-me-downs.When I was fourteen, I dropped out of school and left home to work so I could eat. I supported myself with the money I earned.I'
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