They were always telling me that, if I played nice with Ashley, things would go easier for me.
But here was the thing. Ashley’s parents were gone, and mine were still around, but they chose to ignore me over her. So, what made my life any different from an orphan?
It was Christmas. I was in the kitchen filling up a pot with water when Ashley strutted in, all dressed up in her newest dress. “Grace, do you think this dress looks good on me?”
I ignored her and tried to move past her.
But she wasn’t having it. She latched onto my arm from behind. “I’m waiting for an answer.” I frowned, trying to pull away.
She grabbed my other hand, splashed herself with the hot water, and then let out a scream. “Please no Grace!”
“What are you doing?!” I asked her.
“Who do you think Mom’s going to believe, you or me?” Ashley smirked, and right on cue, my mom walked in and saw the whole thing, just the way Ashley had set it up.
“Grace, if you’ve got an issue, you come to me,” my mom said, her voice heavy with disappointment. “Why would you do this to Ashley?”
Ashley was all teary–eyed, playing the victim. “Mom, please don’t be mad at Grace. It’s my fault.”
My brother yanked my arm. “Are you jealous of Ashley? You know we
have family coming over, and you messed up her dress on purpose?”
My dad’s face was a storm cloud. “Grace, you’re grounded. You stay here. and think about what you’ve done. Ashley, go change, and we’ll all head out for dinner.”
Ashley looked like she was about to cry, and my mom was right there, soothing her with gentle words and a soft touch. I used to feel that warmth, but it was a distant memory from another life.
If they had just looked a little closer, only looked at me for a moment, they might have seen the burn in my hand.
But no, they didn’t. They all left, a happy little family of four, without even looking back.
As she was leaving, Ashley shot me a triumphant glance, as if to say, ‘Grace, I’ve won again.”
It didn’t take much longer than two weeks for my mom’s Instagram to become a chronicle of Ashley’s adventures with our family, showcasing their delicious meals and memorable trips.
My brother even brought a cake once, but it was only for her, and they didn’t even share a slice of it with me.
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