Chapter 2

I could vaguely remember a time when Mom used to brush my hair gently.

She bought me pretty little dresses and fed me all kinds of delicious treats.

Then one day, I came home from school to find her looking at me with excitement.

“Natalie, you’re going to have a little brother.”

“Aren’t you happy?”

I was seven then. I had no idea why she was so thrilled.

Mom already had me.

Why did she need another child?

Why was having a boy something to be happy about?

I didn’t understand.

But Mom was beaming.

Even Dad was smiling at her belly.

He rested his hand on it as though it held some priceless treasure.

So I smiled, too, and said loudly,

“Yes!”

Everything changed the day my brother was born.

I stood outside our front door, knocking again and again.

No answer.

No one had told me what was happening.

I didn’t know where to go or what to do.

My stomach growled with hunger, and tears slipped down my face.

I sat on the steps, wiping my eyes and whispering for Mom.

By the two-hundred-and-thirty-fourth time,

they finally came home.

Dad, who had always insisted he didn’t like children, was holding a tiny bundle.

Mom saw me on the steps. The moment our eyes met,

all the hurt inside me surged up.

But before I could start sobbing, her words stopped me.

“This is your brother, Ethan.”

“Would you like to touch him?”

I froze. The mother standing in front of me suddenly felt like a stranger.

She didn’t ask if I’d been scared, the way she used to.

She didn’t ask if I was hungry.

She asked if I wanted to touch my brother.

It was as though she couldn’t see my tears.

She took my hand and guided it toward that little thing that did nothing but cry.

I instinctively pulled back.

Mom frowned. Her voice turned cold. “You’re a big sister now.”

“You need to take responsibility. Look after your brother and be good to him.”

“Do you understand?”

She took out her keys, and the door I hadn’t been able to open, no matter how hard I knocked,

finally swung wide.

Dad went in first, carrying my brother.

Then Mom.

Then me.

When I went to bed that night, their bedroom light was still on.

Laughter drifted out now and then.

“Boys really are different. Even looking at him makes me happy.”

“Now we can finally stop worrying.”