"Ally, you will always be our most loved child. Don't ever say that again. This is all Eudora James's fault. She's just petty."
I lay curled on the cold floor, the sound of her deep, tender love for another child and her curses at me ringing in my ears.
A week later, every last pretense was shattered.
...
I was still slumped against the table, a smear of frosting on the corner of my mouth.
The gentle way Mom comforted Aileen—it was as if Aileen were her biological daughter.
But when she glanced back and noticed the cake scraps, her expression darkened instantly, like she'd spotted something filthy.
Those scraps were the birthday cake I'd bought for myself. The only one I could afford.
She muttered under her breath, "What a waste. Spending money on garbage even a dog wouldn't touch."
But when her gaze happened to fall on me, curled up against the table, something flickered across her chest—a faint, barely perceptible ache.
Without thinking, she slowly loosened her arm from around Aileen. She took one step toward me. Then another.
She bent down slightly, reaching to help me up.
But just then, Aileen let out a soft, choked sob.