"But others laugh at me," I cried, my tears soaking my ill-fitting clothes.
My mom, indifferent to my tears, was only annoyed. "At eight years old, you're still so gullible? I've told you, your fate is bad, you're a burden. Being named Lily is supposed to let you share some of your brother's good fortune. You, a worthless girl, can't have any luck to help others. Your brother is the one with real fortune." She repeated this several times as if saying it often enough would make it true.
Finally, she couldn't be bothered with me anymore. "You're not smart, and you can't get into a good school. This afternoon, wash your brother's clothes. I need to cook for him. He needs to stay sharp."
My older brother Alexander was five years older than me. When I was in elementary school, he was preparing for his middle school exams. Mom was obsessed with his success, constantly making him special meals.
He ended up doing well, thanks to Mom's nutritious meals. He passed the threshold for self-funded schooling, and we spent 50,000 dollars on school selection fees to get him into high school.