For Thanksgiving week, my parents shelled out a fortune for a brand-new RV to take the family on a road trip through the national parks. My mom pinged the family group chat: **"Departure time is imminent! Princesses, get ready! ?"** I replied with a thumbs-up emoji, just like my older sister Ashley and my younger sister Brooke. Then I finished my last DoorDash delivery and rode my electric scooter back to campus to wait by the main gate. The first stop was Brooke’s dorm. She posted a boomerang on her Instagram story, holding up a slice of watermelon and flashing a peace sign. The caption: **"Parents who spoil you are the best parents! ? Off to Yellowstone for a week of RV life with the fam! #blessed"** The second stop was Ashley’s off-campus apartment. She filmed a short video, panning between two small but stylishly decorated beds in the back of the RV. **"Thank god my parents don’t play favorites. Even in an RV, my sister and I get our own custom beds. ?"** Staring at the clean, dreamy, Pottery Barn-esque interior on my phone, I tugged self-consciously at my own sweat-soaked DoorDash t-shirt. Hours passed. The campus gates were about to be locked for the night when a new video popped up in the group chat. It was from Brooke. **"Ugh, look how gross Cameron looks. She doesn't actually think we're taking her with us, does she?"** The video was shot from inside the RV as it drove right past my campus gate. I was in the frame, still in my bright red delivery uniform, squatting on the curb like a stray dog someone had left behind. A second later, the video was deleted. My legs were stiff as I forced myself to stand up. I muted the family group chat and sent a text to my shift manager at DoorDash. **"Hey Mark, I'm not taking the week off after all. Is the holiday bonus for perfect attendance still on the table?"** If I worked every shift this month, I’d finally have enough saved up for the study abroad program in Finland. I didn’t have a family. But I still had a dream worth chasing. 1 Mark called me back immediately. "I thought you were excited about the trip with your parents," he said, concern in his voice. "Just suck it up and apologize for whatever it was, Cam," he advised. "You're a young woman. Why make your life harder than it has to be?" I curled my fingers into a fist, my voice tight. "They never came… I’m not going." "They're busy people," I added, the familiar excuse tasting like ash in my mouth. "Next time, maybe." *Next time.* That was the phrase I’d heard my entire life. When I was born, they were in the middle of launching their start-up. They dropped me off with my grandmother upstate, and every holiday, every school break, their promise over the phone was always the same: *We’ll see you next time, sweetie.* When I graduated from middle school, I won the award for top student in my class. I ran to the nearest payphone, clutching my certificate. "Mom! I got first in my cl—" For the first time ever, my mother’s voice was sharp, cutting me off like a knife. "Cameron! Your father and I are in the middle of a huge deal! When will you ever learn to stop being so needy?!" "They say children are a blessing, but you… you feel like a curse!" My dad got on the line, his tone just as harsh. "We are working ourselves to the bone out here to provide for you, Cameron. When are you going to grow up?" "Sometimes I wonder if you're even our child. You're such a disappointment." That was the last time I ever called them. They finally seemed to remember I existed when I got a scholarship to a prestigious high school in the city. After I moved in with them, I realized just how successful they’d become. They lived with Ashley and Brooke in a beautiful suburban house. Both my sisters had their own perfectly decorated "princess" rooms. I was given the guest room on the first floor. For a while, I held onto a secret hope that they would see how much they had neglected me. But compared to Ashley, who they'd always raised, and Brooke, the baby of the family who’d never known anything but comfort, I was just the awkward, unaffectionate middle child. The spare part. That neglect curdled into resentment the year we all took the SATs. I scored high enough to get into Brooke's dream school. She didn’t. They were furious with me, as if I had stolen her spot, cursed her with bad luck. A notification on my phone screen pulled me from my thoughts. My mom had sent me $100 via Zelle. The message read: **"This month's allowance. Spend it wisely."** A hollow, teary laugh escaped my lips. It was the last day of the month, and she was just now remembering to send my allowance. One hundred dollars. That was the budget they had set for me. During my freshman year, I tried to gently explain that $100 a month wasn't enough. It barely covered my meal plan at the dining hall, let alone textbooks or basic necessities. I even made a little video diary of my daily expenses to show her. Her response was a furious phone call. "You grew up with your grandmother on a farm, Cameron! Where did you learn to be so wasteful with money?" "Do you have any idea how hard we work? We don't ask you to contribute, but the least you could do is be a little more considerate!" My eyes burned with shame. I quit all my clubs. I started buying the cheapest, generic brand of tampons. Asking my parents for money became the most humiliating act I could imagine. So when my professor recommended me for the fellowship in Finland, my first feeling wasn't joy. It was anxiety. I spent sleepless nights calculating the costs, trying to figure out how I could possibly earn enough money. The minute this semester started, I began delivering for DoorDash in every spare moment I had. On my very first day, I got lost, worked too late, and missed the dorm lockdown. I ended up squatting by the campus gate, just like tonight, debating whether to spend my meager earnings on a cheap motel room. That’s when I saw Brooke’s post. It was a screenshot of her Postmates order history. The caption: **"OMG just realized I spent over $10k on food delivery last semester! My parents truly refuse to let me suffer lol."** Ashley had commented below: **"You're ridiculous! At least I'm saving my allowance to go backpacking through Europe after graduation."** It was in that moment that I finally understood. My parents had plenty of money. It just had nothing to do with me. 2 When I didn’t immediately accept the Zelle payment, a second text from my mom came through. **"Brooke didn't mean to call you gross. She's young and she speaks without thinking. Didn't you see her apologize in the chat? Don't make a big deal out of this."** I clicked back into the muted group chat. After deleting the video, Brooke had sent a flurry of messages. **"Oops wrong chat lol. Cameron didn't see that did she?"** **"Why isn't she responding? She's not mad at me is she??"** **"I'm sorryyyy, I didn't actually think you'd see it."** Ashley had chimed in right after: **"Aren't you busy working anyway? You don't need to waste your time on a family vacation with us."** A few half-hearted, joking "apologies," and because her precious baby was "upset," my mom immediately came running to scold me. I wiped the tears from my face and typed back, my fingers cold and steady. **"I work because my allowance is $100 a month."** **"Unlike Brooke, who has $10,000 to spend on Postmates."** **"And unlike Ashley, who has you to bankroll her trip around the world."** **"I was never really part of this family, was I?"** **"It's fine. But I'm never going to forgive any of you."** I ignored the explosion of angry calls and texts that followed and got back on my scooter. I was focused on my phone, trying to claim a new delivery order, when a speeding sedan shot out of a side street. The world became a blur of screeching tires and shattering plastic. I was thrown from the scooter, and the pavement rushed up to meet me before everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, a searing, throbbing pain radiated through my entire body. Before I could even speak, a hand cracked across my face. My father was standing over my hospital bed, his eyes blazing with fury and disappointment. "Cameron, how could we have raised something so heartless!" he roared. "You were jealous we were leaving without you, so you cooked up this whole drama, didn't you?!" Ashley stood off to the side, taking off her glasses to dab at her dry eyes. "She did it on purpose," she sniffled. "She saw my text in the group chat about my friend Sarah picking me up. She crashed into Sarah’s car on purpose!" "She just wanted to embarrass me in front of my friends, to make sure everyone knows my sister is a delivery driver!" My mother wrapped a protective arm around Ashley, cooing at her. Brooke plopped down on the edge of my bed, her weight landing directly on my injured leg. A bolt of white-hot pain shot up my side, but she didn't seem to notice. She poked me in the chest with a perfectly manicured finger. "You're so twisted, Cameron," she said. "Don't air our dirty laundry in public. We were nice enough to let you work your stupid job, and you repay us by trying to humiliate us?" The scrapes and bruises covering my body were nothing compared to the dull, crushing ache in my chest. No one had asked me where I was hurt. They only cared about their own image. I closed my eyes, my voice a choked whisper. "How is delivering food humiliating?" "How is earning my own living an embarrassment to you?" A hot rush of tears and anger flooded my senses, and the question I had buried for twenty years finally broke free. "Why was I born into this family if it was going to be a mistake?!" "If you didn't love me, why did you even have me?!" The room fell into a suffocating silence. When I opened my eyes again, only my mother was left. She sat on a chair across the room, her expression cold and appraising. She let out a short, bitter laugh, as if remembering something hateful. "Do you know why we named you Cameron?" she asked, her voice flat. "Because when I was about to get an abortion, some quack doctor told us you were a boy. So your father and I decided to keep you. We gave you a boy's name, hoping." "We have fed and clothed you all these years. What right do you have to complain?" My mind went blank. I clutched the thin hospital blanket. "When I start earning real money, I'll pay you back for everything—" "With what?" she cut me off. "Your DoorDash tips?" "Your father and I would just be grateful if you stopped trying to take things that don't belong to you. That's all we ask." I let my eyes fall shut, exhausted. I had no more words left. 3 My parents signed me out of the hospital against medical advice. The nurses urged me to stay a few more days, but I didn't have the money to pay for it anyway. As we were leaving, I overheard one of the doctors sigh. "That family looks like they stepped out of a magazine. Why do they treat their middle daughter like she's a criminal?" I pressed my lips together and said nothing, just hobbled along behind them. When we got to the RV, Brooke turned around. "Why are you still following us? You think pulling that little stunt actually earned you a spot on this trip?" I started to walk past them, toward the main road, but my mother grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the RV door. "Get in the car. You think you can go back to work covered in bandages?" I looked at her, shocked. She avoided my gaze, but I could see a faint redness in her eyes. A bitter, unfamiliar warmth pricked at my heart. It was the first time in my life I had felt even a sliver of twisted, reluctant concern from her, and I found myself unable to refuse. Inside, my parents took the front seats while Ashley and Brooke lounged on their beds, scrolling through their phones. The whole interior was decorated in shades of pink and rose gold. I stood there awkwardly in my dirty, torn DoorDash uniform, feeling completely out of place. My father shook his head in exasperation. "Can one of you just let her sit down for a minute?" Ashley put in her AirPods. "I'm busy explaining to my friends why my sister throws herself in front of cars for attention. I'm so over this." Brooke sat up and threw a pillow onto the floor. "No way," she whined. "She’s disgusting. I don't want her dirt on my bed!" My father glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression a mix of pity and annoyance. "Cameron, just go use the shower in the back." "You're a young lady. How can you let yourself get so filthy?" I clenched the hem of my shirt, took off my shoes, and walked to the tiny bathroom. The warm water felt incredible, washing away the grime and some of the exhaustion. Outside, I could hear Brooke’s whining. "Mom, look! She got her gross footprints all over my favorite bath mat!" "This is so annoying! Can't we just drop her back at her dorm?" Ashley chimed in. "Seriously, it’s like having a stranger with us. It's so awkward." My mother cut them off. "Alright, that's enough. It's just a bath mat. I'll wash it for you, and when we get back, I'll buy you ten new ones, how about that?" My father's low voice rumbled in agreement. "And didn't we promise you that condo for graduation? You can cover the whole floor with them then." Suddenly, the warm water in the shower turned ice-cold. The shock of it made me gasp. My mother was outside, washing the bath mat, using up all the hot water, completely forgetting I was in here. Just like they discussed my fate as if I couldn't hear them. I was used to it. But still, the tears came, hot and silent, mixing with the freezing water. Hidden by the sound of the shower, I finally let myself cry for twenty years of accumulated loneliness. 4 I stepped out of the bathroom, shivering, wrapped in a towel. Brooke’s head snapped up. She let out a shriek and lunged at me, trying to rip the towel away. "Who said you could use my towel?! This is from Neiman Marcus! You're not worthy of touching it!" My face flushed with humiliation as I clutched the towel tightly. "My clothes are wet! I'll change as soon as they're dry!" "I'm sorry, Brooke, I'll wash it for you as soon as I can, okay?" She dug her nails into my arm. "Now! Take it off right now!" My mother came over and pulled us apart, rubbing her temples. "What is it now? Can you two go five minutes without fighting?" Brooke’s eyes instantly filled with tears. "Mom, she stole my birthday present! This towel has my monogram on it! I haven't even used it yet!" My mother’s glare was ice. "Cameron, we let you manipulate your way onto this trip. Why do you have to keep causing problems? Does it make you happy to make everyone else miserable?" I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and silently picked up my still-damp, dirty clothes. "I'll change right now." I hung the freshly washed designer towel up to dry and found a small corner of the floor to curl up on. I hadn't slept in what felt like days, and between the accident and the brewing fever, my head felt like it was full of cotton. I just wanted to close my eyes. The RV hit the highway as night fell. Ashley stepped over me to get to the bathroom. A moment later, I heard a piercing scream. She stormed out, her hair dripping wet, and slapped me hard across the face. The force of it knocked me from my sitting position onto the floor. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?!" she shrieked, pointing at me with disgust. "You turned the water heater off! You want me to get sick so you can take my spot on this trip? In your dreams!" My mother rushed over with a dry towel and started rubbing Ashley's hair. "Sweetie, are you okay? Does your head hurt? I'll make you some hot tea, don't you worry." Ashley clung to our mother, her voice filled with venom. "She's a psycho, Mom. She's been trying to ruin this trip from the second she got on. If she's here, none of us are going to have any fun!" This time, my mother didn't yell at me. She just looked at me with a cold, weary expression, as if I were a complete stranger she was tired of dealing with. "Tonight," she said, her voice flat, "you're sleeping at the truck stop." "Don't you dare ruin what little bit of family feeling we have left, Cameron." They pulled into a desolate, 24-hour truck stop and pushed me out the door. I heard the lock click behind me. Through the window, I could see them setting up the projector to watch a movie. My mother was making hot chocolate for Ashley. Inside, it looked like a cozy, loving home. Outside, I squatted in my damp clothes, shivering in the cold. I waited until all the lights inside went out, but the door never opened. There was no motel, so I curled up on a metal bench, clutching my phone. The balance of my savings account was my only source of warmth. If I could just survive this week, I could go back to campus and finally be free. For the next few days, my fever came and went. I begged to stay and rest in the RV, but Brooke threw a fit. "If you stay here alone, who knows what you'll steal!" So I became their pack mule. I carried their souvenirs, their backpacks, and I was the designated videographer for their happy, four-person family moments. The last stop on their seven-day trip was Lake Jenny in the Grand Tetons. As a "reward" for being so obedient, they let me come with them on the tour boat. Before we boarded, my father pulled me aside. "Your sisters have actually been in a good mood the last few days," he warned, his voice low. "You keep your mouth shut and do what you're told, and tonight, I'll let you sleep in the RV." My fever-addled brain could barely process his words. I just nodded numbly. He looked at my weak, unsteady posture with disgust. "Who are you trying to guilt-trip with that pathetic act? Your mother and I are not the kind of people who let one person's mood ruin a vacation. Don't think for a second we'll cut this trip short for you." Out on the sparkling water, the tour guide offered to take a family photo. I instinctively took everyone's bags and started to step away, but my mother grabbed my hand and pulled me back. "You behave," she hissed, "and I'll still acknowledge you as my daughter. Got it?" She positioned me on the very edge of the group, just barely in the frame. As the camera shutter clicked, I felt a hard shove from behind. My body tilted, tipping uncontrollably over the side of the boat. A desperate survival instinct kicked in. Just before my strength gave out completely, my hand shot out and clamped down on a piece of clothing. *SPLASH!* *SPLASH!* Two bodies hit the water. The boat erupted in screams. I had pulled my mother in with me. As the icy water closed over my head, a strange sense of peace and release washed over me. Acting on pure instinct, I used my last ounce of strength to push her upward, toward the surface. I felt her being pulled from the water by other hands. Then, I lost consciousness completely.
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