When my parents divorced, Mom fought for my older sister, and Dad fought for my younger brother. I was the middle child, the one nobody wanted. Everyone bet against me, but irony has a funny way of working out. After the SATs, my sister ended up at a community college, my brother dropped out, and I? I was the state's top scholar. Suddenly, it was my turn to be fought over. I shook off their hands, pulling two documents from my bag. "Kids who've been abandoned once have trust issues," I said coolly. "So, here's the deal—" "Whoever signs this will, leaving everything to me, gets to be the parent of the top scholar." 1 My dad is a cop, and my mom is a surgeon. To everyone else, they have glamorous careers. But to me, they were just permanently "busy." Especially after the divorce. Every time I asked Mom for allowance, she'd rush off, saying, "I'm saving lives, ask your dad." When I called Dad, he'd sound exhausted, "I'm arresting bad guys, ask your mom." They kept passing the buck, assuming the other had already paid up. In reality, I was often starving. When I was really broke, breakfast was two steamed buns—three yuan. That was my food for the day. When stomach cramps hit, I'd lay my head on the desk and tell myself to endure it. Classmates went to the cafeteria for lunch; I said I wasn't hungry, but the truth was I had no money. There were lucky days, of course. Sometimes they'd both remember me and transfer money simultaneously. But that "luck" was random. Most of the time, I was hungry. Once, after three days without a proper meal, seeing black spots from hunger, I called them. Both rejected my calls with the "busy" excuse. That moment clarified everything. In this world, money is more reliable than love. Love disappears, gets ignored, gets forgotten. Money doesn't. From that day on, I wanted money. Lots of it. Enough to buy the best food in the world. So I'd never have to go hungry again. 2 One day before the SAT registration fee deadline. I still couldn't reach my parents for money. Because they were "busy." Yet, my sister and brother just updated their social media. Sister's post: A photo of her in a new dress, smiling brightly. Mom stood beside her, hand gently on her shoulder. They looked so alike, gentle and elegant. Caption: [Thanks Mom for the pre-exam gift, love you~] Brother's post: On the basketball court, shooting hoops, Dad coaching him. Both wearing brand-new matching sports gear. Caption: [Dad said gotta blow off steam before the big test, can't have too much pressure.] I stared at the photos for a long time. So they weren't busy. They were just busy for me, the extra daughter. A familiar bitterness spread in my chest. I should have known. I was the surplus, wasn't I? Just like the day of the divorce. In court, the judge asked about custody. Mom didn't hesitate: "I want Grace." She looked at my sister with adoration. "She's sensible and obedient, just like me. She'll go far." Dad chimed in quickly: "I'm definitely taking Lucas." He patted my brother's shoulder, eyes shining with expectation. "He's got athletic talent, he'll follow in my footsteps and be a cop." The judge flipped through the files, frowning. "What about the other child?" My parents froze. "Oh, right, Zoe." Then came the hot potato game. "I already took one, can't afford two." "She's a Lin, she should stay with the Lin family!" Mom argued. "Zoe's a girl, you're her mom, she should be with you!" "My work is too demanding, the hospital needs me, I don't have time for two kids..." I sat in the corner, watching them fight to not take me. Finally, I broke the stalemate. "I can live alone, as long as I have living expenses." And so began my life of solitude and hunger. Looking at the class group chat, classmates posting screenshots of their paid fees. Only I hadn't paid. The class rep reminded me again. No fee, no SATs. I bit my lip, stomach cramping again. One bun today. My balance couldn't even afford two. But hunger didn't matter now. The registration fee wasn't just about food; it was my only way out. If I couldn't take the test, my life was over. I had to get that money. Since they ignored my calls and texts, I'd go to them. Mom's place was closest to school. I decided to start with her. 3 Standing before that familiar yet strange door. I took a deep breath. Finger trembling, I pressed the doorbell. The door opened quickly. It was my sister, Grace. Seeing me, her face instantly filled with impatience. She turned and yelled toward the kitchen: "Mom, Zoe's here." Her tone dripped with disdain. She blocked the doorway, no intention of letting me in. Sounds of cooking came from the kitchen; Mom was busy. "Oh, let her in then." Only then did Grace reluctantly move aside, leaving a crack for me to squeeze through. I walked into the living room. Grace was back on the sofa, taking up the whole thing. I sat awkwardly on a small stool in the corner. Like an unwelcome beggar. Soon, Mom came out with a bowl of soup. Milky white broth, smelling divine. My starving stomach growled immediately. "Gracie, this is bird's nest soup with lotus seeds." "I stewed it for three hours. Just this small bowl, very nourishing." "You've been studying hard, drink it while it's hot." Grace took the bowl, sniffing the aroma. "Mom, you just finished a ten-hour surgery and still made soup for me? You're too tired, you drink it." "Silly child, Mom won't drink. You're Mom's precious baby, anything for you is worth it." They pushed the bowl back and forth. Finally, sharing it. One sip for you, one sip for me. A heartwarming scene. And me? The invisible person. Sitting three steps away, watching this mother-daughter bonding. I checked my phone. Deadline approaching. "Mom, the SAT registration fee is due soon. Can you send me the money?" As soon as I spoke, Mom's face changed. Gentleness vanished, replaced by impatience and disgust. "Look at you, every time you come it's for money. Like a debt collector." "Besides money, do you know how to say anything else?" Grace chimed in: "Yeah, Zoe, can you not be so materialistic?" "Mom works so hard, and you just have your hand out." My fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into my palm. "But I'm just asking for the registration fee, not allowance." "It's mandatory." "And it's your obligation to support me." "Obligation?" Mom sneered. "I raised you till now, what value have you created for me?" "Just spending money, useless." "Registration fee is over a hundred, isn't that money? You think my money grows on trees?" Hearing this, my heart felt squeezed. I stood up slowly, eyes on the exquisite white porcelain bowl. Half a bowl of bird's nest soup left, gleaming temptingly under the light. I saw the price tag at the pharmacy days ago. Premium bird's nest, dozens of dollars per gram. This bowl was worth hundreds. And I was asking for a registration fee of just over a hundred. She'd spend hundreds on soup for Grace. But grudged a hundred for my future. "Money grows on trees"? What a joke. All my grievances exploded in that moment. I grabbed the soup bowl. "Zoe, what are you doing?" I didn't answer. I smashed the bowl on the floor. The crash echoed in the living room. Soup splattered everywhere. "Are you crazy?" Mom stared, wide-eyed in disbelief. Slap! A loud slap landed on my left cheek. Burning pain spread instantly. But I didn't retreat. I looked her in the eye. "Give me the registration fee." "You wretched girl!" Mom trembled with rage. "You dare act wild here over a registration fee?" I repeated: "I want the registration fee." Infuriated by my attitude, she grabbed her phone with shaking hands. Beep. The transfer notification sounded. She threw the phone onto the sofa. "Take the money and get out. Don't disturb Grace's studying." I checked the amount. Fifty-something. Exactly half the fee. "Why only half?" Mom sneered. "I'm divorced, not widowed. The court ruling said your dad and I split your costs 50/50." "Go ask your dad for the rest." She pointed at the door. Get out. The broken porcelain glittered coldly on the floor. Just like my heart. Cold. Grace sat on the sofa, watching coldly. A smirk played on her lips. Fine. At least I got half. Though only fifty-something, it was better than nothing. For the other half, I had to find Dad. 4 Leaving Mom's, my cheek still throbbed. But I couldn't care less. Half the fee was still missing. Dad lived across the city. Two hours by bus. His door was ajar. I pushed it open gently. Quiet living room. Only the flickering light of the TV. Dad was curled on the sofa watching a kung fu movie. Wearing loungewear, messy hair, looking exhausted. Strangely, the TV was muted. He didn't look up until I stood in front of him, blocking the screen. "Oh, Zoe, you're here." "Why is it muted?" I asked. Dad pointed to Lucas's room: "Lucas is doing homework. Can't disturb him." I nodded, sitting on the other end of the sofa. Jackie Chan was fighting on screen, silent punches and kicks looking comical. Dad glanced at me, gaze fixing on my left cheek. "What happened to your face?" "Who hit you?" Dad's face shifted from fatigue to anger. "Went to ask Mom for the registration fee, and she..." Before I finished, Dad stood up, dialing his phone. "Hello, Zhang Yulan, are you crazy?" As soon as it connected, Dad roared: "You hit Zoe? She's just a kid, how could you?" Mom's shrill voice came from the other end. Couldn't hear the words, but she was yelling too. "What do you mean I didn't fulfill my duty as a father?" Dad got louder. "What kind of mother are you? Won't even pay the kid's registration fee?" "You have the nerve to lecture me? Look how you spoiled Grace!" "At least our Lucas is sensible, unlike your..." The argument escalated. Tension filled the living room. Lucas ran out of his room: "Dad, what are you arguing about? So loud." "Nothing, go back to your homework." Dad covered the mic, voice instantly gentle. But Lucas heard. "Dad, is that woman yelling at you again?" Hostility filled his voice. "That woman" was said with heavy emphasis. Grace's screech came through the phone: "Lin Youbao (Lucas), what 'that woman'? That's your mother! Where are your manners?" Lucas grabbed the phone, putting it on speaker. "Lin Enci (Grace), who do you think you are? A super-senior retaking 12th grade has no right to lecture me!" "Besides, Dad divorced her, she's not my mom anymore!" Grace's voice pitched up. "You little brat! Grades so bad you have to rely on sports to get into college, and you dare bark at me?" Lucas wasn't backing down. "So what if I'm an athlete? Unlike some people still in high school at 20!" "I skipped a grade, getting into college at seventeen." They argued red-faced, wishing to stomp the other into the ground. And I, the extra daughter, sat there like an outsider, watching a war started because of me. What a ridiculous family. Divorced parents, each spoiling their favorite, treating the other's child like an enemy. Sister and brother despising each other, raised in comparison, now enemies. This war wasn't for me. They argued to prove their parenting was superior. To prove their chosen child was better. Finally, like a pact, both sister and brother declared they would crush the exam. "I'll score higher than you, make Mom proud!" "Lol, I have extra points for sports, I'll beat you by ten points easy. Glory for Dad!" Both eyes burning with competitiveness. Hanging up, Lucas turned to Dad for validation. "Dad, going back to study." "I'll definitely beat that repeater Grace, make you proud!" Dad beamed with satisfaction. "Good son, Dad believes in you!" "You have talent and drive, you'll get into a great college." Encouraged, Lucas strutted back to his room. The living room fell silent. Dad finally remembered I was there. He turned to me, expression flattening instantly. No gentleness like for Lucas, no anger like for Grace. Just plain, perfunctory. "Right, you came for the registration fee." I watched him tap his phone. "Sent the other half." I checked. Exact amount. Not a penny more. "Getting late. Be safe on the way back." With that, he sat back down. Resumed his silent movie. "Okay, I'm leaving." I whispered, turning to the door. No sound behind me. No "stay," no "careful," not even a "bye." I closed the door gently, standing in the dim hallway. The sensor light flickered on, blinding white. I touched my throbbing cheek. Doesn't matter. I have the money.
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