them again w

ed from washing dishes and scrubbing floors. I had small cuts

hers. She traced the rough skin with

e said softly. "You

ater that day. I heard their

all the housework. Her hands ar

Don' t be so dramatic. She' s just trying to get attention

helpful. In her eyes, it was a trick. A performance. T

, stocking shelves and running the register. I worked hard, hoping my parents would see

never

inventory. The door was slightly ajar, and I cou

," my mom was saying. "You just focus o

Chloe?" Br

e' ll be fine. She' ll probably just stay here, marry some loc

m. They had already decided my future. It was small and gray

ng for a high shelf when my hand slipped, and a jar of cheap candy fell

the store. My mom

d with fury. She strode over to me, and witho

ustomer gasped. My cheek burned, and my eyes

hissed, her voice low and venomous

roken glass and candy with shaking hands, my

oom. I didn' t have to say anythin

heart. You can' t force a connection that isn' t there. It' s like a bad seed; it will never grow

uldn' t earn their love by being helpful, may

my eyes burned. And it worked. I brought home a report card w

all my saved-up pocket money on ingredients and baked her a cake. It wasn' t perfect.

ing, my heart full of nervous

ake. A look of disda

?" she asked,

t for you,

turning away. "Take it

nd wobbled. I tried to catch it, but it was too late. It tilted, and the ca

oken, lumpy mess.