My Mom Raised Me to Be the “Perfect Daughter,” But I Revealed Her Secret on Graduation Day

"Don't say that," Mom said to the camera, dabbing at her tears. "She's grown up now. It's normal that she looks down on these cheap things from her poor mother..."

I shoved the tin box at the neighbor. "Want this for your grandson? Next time he's sick, maybe skip the hospital down the street and take him to some back-alley clinic instead?"

The neighbor shuffled backward, embarrassed. The box clattered to the ground.

Aunt Naomi moved to charge at me again, but Mom grabbed her arm, choking out: "Tomorrow I'll go buy you the most expensive imported ones—"

"Don't bother." I turned and walked away. Passing the reporter, I muttered under my breath, "Got enough footage?"

Aunt Naomi's voice cut through the air behind me, dripping venom: "Just wait until your uncle gets here! We'll see how smug you are then! No father to keep her in line—no wonder she's out of control!"

Mom crouched on the ground, picking up the scattered pills. Her knuckles were swollen and rough, her graying hair trembling in the wind.

The crowd kept swelling. Their whispers buzzed around me like flies.

Mom was still making excuses. "It's my fault I couldn't give her better..."

I stood off to the side, arms crossed.

June. Sweltering. Everyone else wore short sleeves. I was still in my school jacket.

Sweat trickled down my back. The fabric clung to my skin like a damp cocoon.

Something inside me snapped.

"Where are the new clothes you promised?!"

I screamed at Mom. "I'm the only one dressed in rags!"

Someone in the crowd couldn't hold back: "How dare you talk to your mother like that! Look at her—does she ever buy anything new for herself?!"

Mom grabbed my arm frantically, pulling out a crumpled wad of cash.

One-yuan bills. Fifty-cent notes. A few coins.

She pressed them into my hand. "I sold some recyclables this morning—take this for now. Once your uncle gets here, I'll take you shopping."

I knocked the money out of her hand. "Cut the act! If you've got time for this performance, why don't you go beg Aunt Naomi for Evan's hand-me-downs!"

Aunt Naomi's face went white with rage. "What the hell did you just say?! My son wears designer! You think you deserve to wear his clothes?!"

The crowd erupted.

Someone held up their phone, livestreaming: Saintly Mother Attacked by Ungrateful Daughter.

Comments exploded across the screen:

[Top scorer in the city? Zero points for character!]

[She doesn't appreciate anything!]

[If you think the money's dirty, don't spend it!]

I stared straight into the camera, enunciating every word: "Yeah. I think it's filthy. You all love it so much? Strip down and wear it yourselves."

Crack!

A slap sent my head snapping to the side.

Uncle Albert Dickerson shouldered through the crowd, eyes blazing. "I'm going to teach you a lesson today, you ungrateful little—"

Mom threw herself at him, clinging to his arm. "She's your niece! Your own blood!"

"How did my sister give birth to something like you?!"

Albert jabbed a finger in my face. "When you were born, your grandmother took one look—saw you weren't a boy—and wanted to drown you in a chamber pot right then and there! Middle of winter, your mother ran out barefoot, knelt in the snow, begged her on her hands and knees!"

The comments shifted instantly:

[Oh my god... what a mother.]

[She raised her daughter under that kind of pressure.]

[She really is the most selfless mother!]

I swallowed the familiar taste of iron.

Mom's voice came out small: "Once you have a child, you're responsible for them..."

She crouched down again to pick up the scattered coins, wiping each one before holding them out to me.

The neighbor's voice shook with emotion: "When you started elementary school, your father wanted to pull you out. Your mother divorced him without a second thought! Said she'd never let anything get in the way of your education!"

I yanked my hand free from Mom's grip. "That was her choice. It's compulsory education—she can't use that to guilt-trip me."

Aunt Naomi let out a theatrical sigh. "Every penny your mother had went to your tutoring classes. Her own clothes? Begged from charity, door to door. But every one of your school uniforms is brand new. She starved herself to make sure you'd never feel ashamed in front of your classmates."