Alexander was quite proud of himself. He frequently mapped out my future, telling me, "You're a girl, so your IQ is naturally lower than a boy's. Even if your grades seem okay now, you'll fall behind in middle school. But girls have it easier; if you don't make it to high school, you can just get married."
I was confused and felt something was off, but I hesitated to argue, thinking maybe Alexander's luck was the reason for his success, and that's why my grades were so poor.
Middle school flew by quickly. My parents decided I was unlikely to amount to much and planned to send me to a factory to work. But since I was underage, I was sent back home. My parents were furious, "How's your brain wired? If people ask your age, just say you're an adult to avoid these issues. You're just trying to slack off and not repay us. You're a burden, not as considerate as your brother."
Maybe Alexander's luck really was that good, because suddenly I became the top student in the city, attracting offers from two prestigious high schools and earning a hefty scholarship.
Mom and Dad were ecstatic, not because of my achievement, but because my success meant they could get some return on their investment...
"Why did we bring her back? I specially prepared seafood today. That selfish girl might steal the food meant for Alexander!" Mom's voice pulled me out of my memories.
Her voice was soft but enough to shatter my last bit of hope.
"Alexander still needs 30,000 dollars for the car. If we don't give her something sweet, she might not want to borrow money for her brother," I heard Dora's voice, deliberately hushed but still audible since she was close to Alexander.
"Does she dare not help Alexander?" Dad's deep voice came through clearly, "What's she saving her money for? To make life easier for her in-laws? Girls these days are just so selfish and ungrateful."
Then I heard footsteps, indicating that the person with the phone had left the room, and Dad's voice became faint.
In the past, I'd occasionally heard such background noises during phone calls. But back then, I still held out hope. I kept believing that if I worked hard and did well, I'd gain my family's approval and love. It wasn't that I was particularly naive.
What child could easily accept that their parents didn't love them?