The Overlooked Daughter's Perfect Score

I still remembered when Elaine first came to us. It happened to fall right on my birthday.

I'd begged and begged for my mom to take us all out for a nice steakhouse dinner.

The whole ride there, Elaine sat in the back seat next to me, all smiles, playing cat's cradle with me.

Then, when they brought out the cake, she looked at the name written across the top.

Elaine burst into tears, clinging to my mom, saying how much she missed her own mommy and daddy.

And how she envied me for having parents to spend my birthday with.

Without a word, my mom scraped my name right off the cake and pulled my dad and my brother in to sing "Happy Birthday" to Elaine.

Then she announced:

"Even when it's not your birthday, you can still have cake."

That day, I was supposed to be the star. Instead, I became a bystander.

Afterward, my mom brought out the very first reward coupons.

Just like the stack in front of me now, a full five of them.

She flung them at my face, glaring at me, furious.

"Sibyl, what stunt are you pulling this time? Elaine picked that restaurant just for you. Why didn't you show up?"

I looked at her, feeling the paper's edge sting where it grazed my skin.

The ripple stirring in my chest slowly went still, and I let it go.

"You think I didn't want to go?"

My mom froze, as if only now realizing they hadn't waited for me at all.

Then she looked at me with a fresh flicker of disgust, set the takeout box down on the table, and let her face go cold.

"Whose fault is that? You're the one who dawdles."

"I'll make it up to you next time."

I didn't say anything more.

At my dad's call, she went back into Elaine's room and started fiddling with the brand-new PS console they'd just bought, the one that cost tens of thousands.

The four of them, a family, sat down to play a co-op game together.

Listening to the sound of their laughter and chatter.

I pressed a hand to my lower belly, which was starting to throb, and cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

Almost on instinct I pulled out my phone and got an online doctor on the line, clenching my teeth as I described all my symptoms.

The answer came back: suspected acute appendicitis.

Face bloodless, I hunched over and knocked on Elaine's door.

I wanted my dad to drive me to the hospital on his little scooter.

But a few minutes later, my brother came to the door with a black look on his face, and when he heard my answer he let out a sudden, cold laugh.

"Your stomach hurts? I think you're just jealous everyone's spending time with Elaine, so you're faking sick and lying."

I shook my head. The pain left me no strength to argue.

The hand clamped over my belly pressed harder.

In the end it was my mom, worried the noise would break Elaine's concentration, who reached under the TV stand, grabbed a packet of cold medicine, and tossed it at me.

"It's probably just those cold leftovers upsetting your stomach. It won't kill you. Just tough it out."

I chewed it down dry, and my stomach only hurt worse.

With no other choice, I dug the piggy bank out from under my bed and smashed it open.

Clutching a little over five hundred dollars in loose change, I went to the hospital for an IV.

But the test results weren't good.

The doctor frowned, holding my chart.

"This is bowel necrosis caused by a foodborne virus. A family member has to sign. We need to operate immediately to remove it."

"If we wait and the bowel perforates and fluid leaks into your abdominal cavity, it'll be too late."

Hearing that, I started shaking all over.

A chill crawled straight up from the soles of my feet to my spine.

I tried to call my mom, nearly hitting the wrong button several times.

But the line just kept ringing, unanswered.

It wasn't until my fifty-eighth call home that my brother finally picked up, annoyed.

Before I could get a word out, he laid into me.

"God, are you done? If it won't go through, it means we don't want to answer. Your ringtone's broken Elaine's concentration a bunch of times already."

"Whatever it is, tell us later. Stop calling."

I called again right after, and I'd already been blocked.

Out of options, I called Teacher Chavez.

The moment she heard something was wrong in my voice, she grabbed a cab and rushed to the hospital.

Signed the papers, fronted the medical bills.

Gave it everything she had.