Chapter 3

The apple was red and shiny, emitting a sweet, fresh scent—something I'd never tasted before.

I looked at him, almost blurting out. twelve years old.

But Mom stood right behind him, staring intently at me, her lips silently forming a word.

I knew the word. Dummy.

I immediately understood. I took the apple, giggling stupidly.

I bit into it, skin and core, chewing loudly. Drool ran down my chin, dripping onto my dirty clothes.

Mr. Hayes sighed, shook his head, and left.

That night, Mom cooked me an egg as a reward.

She peeled the shell, saying,

"Daisy, you did well today. Mom knew you weren't completely dumb, you still knew how to pretend."

The egg white was tender, but the yolk choked me, making me stretch my neck.

My heart ached with a bitter, sour feeling, like something was stuck in my throat.

So Mom knew I was pretending.

She knew everything.

This whole act, from beginning to end, wasn't just me performing.

Pretending to be a dummy became an unspoken secret between Mom and me, our most cruel tug-of-war.

She needed me to be a dummy to maintain that money she was becoming increasingly dependent on.

I needed to pretend to be a dummy to earn occasional rewards and a moment of peace.

Like an egg, a pear, or a piece of clothing that wasn't quite so tattered, and her brief, gentle demeanor.

But she was also constantly on guard, afraid I'd become too smart, afraid I'd slip from her control.

If I showed even a hint of curiosity about books, she'd violently destroy anything with writing, as if those words were poison.

I secretly used a stick to write letters on the ground. When she found out, she'd grab a broom and chase me half through the town, shouting for everyone to hear.

"A dummy trying to read? Don't get ahead of yourself!"

I'd be covered in bruises. But at night, she'd come in with some pain relief balm.

She'd roughly rub my bruises, her eyes red, her voice hoarse, saying.

"Daisy, don't blame Mom. Mom has no choice, we're poor. Without that money, we'd starve. Just help Mom out..."

Sometimes, she'd look at my clear, intelligent eyes, so unlike a dummy's, and suddenly panic, shaking my shoulders hard.

"Did you remember? You're a dummy! You were born a dummy! You'll be a dummy your whole life!"

She sounded like she was trying to convince me, but more so, like she was trying to convince herself, trying to drown out the doubt and unease in her heart.