pte

had the better looks, the perfect grades, and the attention of every boy worth noticing. We were just two years apart in school,

we t

sk if we are

because I stalk her on Instagram. My mom couldn't stop comparing us, and I'm not even sure if I'm jealous... or maybe I am. Things just seem to f

ng at

itty mom. Maybe she knew I was alone and unloved from the start. I don't

miss

y over. My l

to the floor and cri

nger clawed at my stomach. I dragged myself to the fridge and found leftover rice. I nuked it in the microwave an

om work. Had no one noticed I wasn't there? Or maybe they did and

had more to ga

just posted birthday photos. My mom had flown to New York to celebrate with her. There they were-Lucille, her fiancé, and our mom, smiling like they were in some Hallma

lt r

that easy t

ghter. Didn't that mean something? Does carrying me nine months not mean s

. For years I tried to be like her perfect daughter Lucille. God knows I tried. I studied harder. I prayed harder. I joined the choir even though I didn't have the voice. But the grades never came, and t

arth. And I can count on one hand how many of those day

my pregnancy. That day was my happiest day

istance wouldn't work. But he called to say he wanted to try again. That maybe we were worth the fi

d me up and whispered that I was her favorite grandkid. I held onto that memo

ays? They were when I succ

sistency. The priest was doing rounds, meeting his new flock. I heard her calling Lucille out, introducing her like some prodigy. "Top of her class, sings in th

and fury. She never mentioned me. Didn't even a

point I

sure the

d straight into the living room, the smoke trailing behind me like a middle finger. I'll never forg

ugh but couldn't bear to hurt my mom's feelings more. At the same time she w

he days I'd hide in my room because we had

a long time, I w

-even if it was for