Love and Hate: When I Completely Leave This World

The next morning, Jane was in my room.

Mom wasn't around to play referee, and Jane's eyes were full of nasty schemes.

"Nora, you're just too bossy, too tough. Mom hates that."

"All these years, and you still haven't learned to chill."

She was grinning like she was on top of the world, schooling me like I was the outsider who needed to shape up.

Too bad, I was spoiled rotten from the get-go, never kissing up to anyone I couldn't stand.

And I definitely didn't pull punches with people I despised. Guess she forgot I really did hit back when pushed.

I set down my glass and gave her the cold shoulder.

And I slapped her hard—payback for earlier.

Jane clutched her red, swollen cheek, glaring, "You hit me?"

I laughed, "I did. Just putting a bully in her place. Not the first time, won't be the last."

Jane was five when they brought her home.

They picked her up from some orphanage.

Mom held my hand back then, "Sweetie, you're so lonely, let Jane keep you company."

At first, I didn't mind, just another playmate.

But Jane and I? We were like oil and water—never mixed well.

We had like eight hundred tricks up our sleeves.

She had eight hundred and one, and I was one short.

At dinner, she'd stick to her veggies and bread. Mom would push her to eat more meat. She'd say, "Mom, save the meat for Nora, I'm good."

Though the platter was stacked.

People say things without thinking, but ears pick up a lot.

Mom watched her, all teary-eyed with pride, and then shifted the pork chops from my plate to Jane's.

"Learn from your sister, how thoughtful she is, not like you, always so spoiled."

"We spoiled you rotten, that's why you turned out so selfish."

I lost my appetite. I hadn't done a thing, yet here I was, the selfish one.

They kept giving me martial arts over ballet any day. I'm all about boxing and fighting.

As I was locking horns with Mom, Jane popped up.

She was at the door, twisting her shirt, whispering like a mosquito, "Mom, if Nora doesn't want to, can I go for it? I love to dance."

At that moment, Mom's face went from disappointed to delighted, "Absolutely, honey. I'll get you into the best school in the city."

"Jane's the thoughtful one, not like you, always at odds with me."

From that point on, it was all about Jane. She was considerate, kind, and had the right attitude. Mom praised her to the skies.

And me? I was stamped as the rebel, the faker, selfish, petty, and jealous.