I Got Into Harvard, but Mom Accused Me of Eloping

My sister's birthday and mine are four days apart.

For as long as I can remember, Mom bought a cake on my sister's birthday.

On mine, there was only a bowl of plain broth noodles.

Mom said, Just think of it as sharing your sister's birthday.

And these broth noodles are made just for you. Your sister doesn't even get any.

From then on, my birthday was always just a bowl of broth noodles.

Until my senior year, when I earned early admission to Harvard.

I didn't tell my parents. I quietly went and sold my hair to keep the money for travel.

The four hundred dollars I got I hid under my pillow.

But the next day, the money was gone, and there was a fancy cake sitting on the table.

Mom gave me a cold look and said, "Your sister's coming home tonight for her birthday. That money you saved is perfect for buying her a cake."

I said stiffly, "Mom, that money was for my train ticket."

Her face went dark all at once. "So you've grown a spine, huh? Barely turned eighteen and already running off with some man?"

"You're planning to ditch your own family?"

Looking at her twisted face, I said in my heart: Yes, I really don't want it anymore...

...

Since I said nothing, Mom took my silence as guilt admitting it.

She raised her hand and slapped me, cursing, "How did I ever give birth to something as shameless as you?"

She put her whole strength into that slap. The sharp pain sent black spots swimming across my vision.

I held my cheek and, fighting the sting behind my nose, asked her, "Mom, why do you assume I bought a ticket to run off with a man?"

She gave me an "as if it could be anything else" look, like I really was that kind of person.

She jabbed hard at my forehead and said, "After your SATs, you go get a job at a local electronics plant."

"I raised you all these years. You'll earn some money for me first, for a few years, and then you can think about men."

Mom never cared about my studies.

All because my sister once pulled out a math test I'd scored an eighty on, and the whole family decided I was a bad student.

But that had been an old exam from the top national math competition. Our teacher had a few of us contest students try it.

I came first, forty points ahead of second place.

I explained it. They didn't believe me.

From then on, Mom was certain I'd never scrape by with more than a high school diploma.

She'd even worked out my "future" for me long ago.

I opened my mouth, and in the end I didn't tell her about the early admission.

She wouldn't believe me anyway.

And anyway... I wasn't planning to come back.

That four hundred dollars could stand for the cut.

I hoped that later, every time she thought of the cake she'd bought with it, she'd remember the things she said today.

I hoped that when the time came, she wouldn't regret it.

I turned and went back to my room.

Mom, still not satisfied with my attitude, banged things around and cursed, "What's with the face?"

"You expecting me to fork out money to send you to some community college?"

"You know what kind of family we are, don't you? Where's the spare cash for you to waste?"

My hand paused on the door. Looking at my mother's furious face, I only felt how absurd it all was.

For as long as I could remember, Mom said we weren't well off.

Yet my sister always wore designer clothes and went to a private international school.

She'd studied painting and dance since she was little, tens of thousands a year.

Two years ago, she got into a private arts college.

Tuition alone was thirty thousand a year.

Her monthly allowance was four thousand.

And this was the family with no money?

I shut the door and stopped looking at my mother.

I had to think of another way to get travel money, fast. Not long after, I heard the front door open.

I cracked my door open and saw my sister bounce in.

My father was right behind her.

Mom's voice was full of delight. "Elwin Gilbert, weren't you away on business? How'd you come back together with Kate Gilbert?"

My sister spoke loudly, as if afraid I wouldn't hear. "Dad said it was my birthday, that he'd get back no matter what."

"So I had him pick me up at the train station."

Dad looked at her, his eyes full of tenderness. "My precious girl's birthday. Of course I couldn't miss it."

In that moment, the three of them, happy together, drove into my heart like a dull blade.

Then my father suddenly asked, "Where's Kayla Gilbert?"

Something in my chest lit up for a second.

At least Dad still remembered me.

I was just about to walk out when I saw my mother's smile vanish in an instant. She rolled her eyes and snapped, "I wasn't finished telling you yet!"

Then she retold the whole afternoon, laying it on thicker than it had happened.

More than once I wanted to rush out and explain. I didn't.

I just watched my father quietly. I wanted to see how he would react.

His face grew darker and darker, and when she finished, he said with disgust, "How did I raise such a worthless thing."

"Makes her own mistake and still has the nerve to sulk. Fine. Nobody call her."

"Let her reflect on herself in her room."

In that moment, my heart went completely cold.

The last shred of hope I had for this family was gone.

Just then my sister glanced toward my room.

Through the crack in the door, our eyes met.

Hers were bright with open, undisguised triumph.

She hugged Dad's arm and said, "Oh, come on, Dad, don't be angry."

"You came home tonight just to celebrate my birthday. If you're unhappy, then I won't celebrate it at all."

He melted at once, all smiles. "That's my Kate, so thoughtful."

"Not like your sister. You can't get a word out of her if you beat it out with a stick!"

"Always throwing that face around. Anyone who didn't know better would think we owed her something."

My mother put on her own sour look. "If you ask me, she's pulling this stunt precisely because it's her sister's birthday."

"She just can't stand to see everyone happy."

Then she deliberately raised her voice. "If she keeps being this difficult, that bowl of birthday noodles for her birthday in a few days? I just won't make it!"

I slowly closed the door, shut my eyes, and forced down the sting behind them.

Outside, my sister laughed loudly. "Oh, you can't do that. My little sister looks forward to those birthday noodles every year."

My mother's voice turned tender. "You're always thinking of her. Every year you remind me to make her noodles for her birthday. And what does she do? Nothing."

"Sigh. If only she had half your sense."

I couldn't listen anymore. I put in my earphones and started watching an English movie.

I followed along with the actors, working my own pronunciation over and over.

Soon the lines pulled me in, and I had no attention left for the cozy little family scene outside.

I was right in the middle of it when my mother pushed the door open and came in.

She set down a slab of cake, its design no longer recognizable, on my desk, her face hard. "This piece is too much to finish. Lucky you."

I looked at the melted cream and remembered this was the cake bought with my hair.

And in the end I didn't even get the right to eat one intact slice.

I pushed the cake away and kept watching the movie. "I don't like cake."

No. At first I did like it.

But after the first time I begged her to buy me a birthday cake and got slapped across the face for it, I couldn't stomach it anymore.

Now even the sweet, cloying smell of cream is enough to make me feel like I'm choking, nauseated.

Right at this moment, I was only holding myself together, trying to keep one last scrap of dignity.

My sister leaned lazily against the doorframe and said in her usual joking tone, "Oh, Mom, I keep telling you, little sister's in her rebellious phase now."

"You go running after her to coax her like this and she won't appreciate it. She'll just take it further."

"See? Told you I'd be right."

My father passed by the door and gave a short laugh, one with a trace of contempt in it, and a trace of knowing.

My mother turned in an instant, like a cat with its tail stepped on.

She grabbed the cake and smashed it into my mouth, cream shooting up into my nose.

I stared at her wide-eyed and saw her staring back, eyes sharp, grinding out through her teeth, "Still got the nerve to act up?"

"I'd like to see what eating this cake is going to do to you."