Chapter 2My Parents Have Double Standards

Early the next morning, I was woken up by the crisp ring of a bicycle bell from the alley.

I recognized it immediately. It was Jenny's Schwinn bicycle.

She had won it in our second drawing.

The year before, Dad had been named an outstanding worker, and his workplace had rewarded him with a bicycle purchase voucher.

The bicycle was brand new. Its chrome handlebars gleamed, and the bell rang with a bright chime.

Dad announced that the bicycle would belong to whichever child drew the red stick.

By then, I had already been living in the city for over six months. It took me forty minutes to walk to school one way, and during winter my ears would ache from the cold.

I stared at the two sticks. My palms were slick with sweat.

Mom handed me the wooden tube. As always, I was told to draw first.

After taking a deep breath, I reached inside and pulled out a white stick.

"Then the red stick belongs to Jenny again."

The very next day, Jenny rode the Schwinn bicycle to school.

She rang the bell all the way there.

As she rode past me, she laughed.

"Sorry, Christina. I only know how to ride by myself. I can't give you a lift."

Over the past three years, everything had been decided this way. The family's radio, the sewing machine, the larger portion of meatballs, and the best seat at the movies all went to Jenny because I ended up drawing the white stick each time.

It happened 47 times. I had never even seen what the red stick looked like.

Every time, I drew first. Every time, I got white, and the red stick automatically went to Jenny.

I had always thought I was simply cursed with bad luck.

Now I knew that my fate had been decided long before I ever reached into that wooden tube.

I got out of bed, washed my face, and stared at the numb expression reflected in the mirror. I then forced a smile. The girl in the mirror looked like she was about to cry.

When I went downstairs, Jenny was already seated at the table.

She was carefully peeling a hard-boiled egg.

"Morning, Christina." She looked up with a bright smile that reached her eyes. "Mom made oatmeal today. It smells amazing."

I nodded and sat down.

Mom served me a bowl of oatmeal, but she avoided my eyes when she did so.

Dad sat at the head of the table. He was reading the newspaper as if nothing significant was about to happen.

"Dad. Mom." I set my bowl down and kept my voice as calm as possible. "Isn't today the drawing for who goes to the countryside?"

Dad's hands trembled slightly. He slowly lowered the newspaper and looked at me.

"That's right. The country is calling on educated youth to go to the countryside. One of you has to go."

"Are we deciding by drawing lots?" I asked.

"Yes. Draw lots. Fair and square."

Mom turned around to retrieve the wooden tube. Her movements were oddly stiff.

"Whoever gets the red stick stays in the city. Whoever gets the white stick goes to the countryside. Christina, same as always, you draw first."

I stared at the wooden tube.

After three years, its edges had become smooth from constant handling.

It had given me hope time after time only to cast me into despair again and again.

I didn't move.

"Christina, go ahead and draw," Jenny urged impatiently.

I looked at my parents. "This time, let Jenny draw first."

The moment I said that, all three of their expressions changed.

Mom's expression darkened.

"We've followed this rule for years. You've always drawn first. Why should Jenny suddenly–"

"Exactly. For years, I've been the one drawing the white stick every single time."

I paused.

"I've never even seen what the red stick looks like. Jenny's always so lucky. Let me see what a red stick looks like for once."

"Christina!"

Mom shot to her feet. "What are you implying? Are you accusing us of cheating?"

"Mom, I didn't say that. I just want Jenny to draw first for once. Just this once."

Dad stared at me in silence for a long time.

Mom's chest rose and fell with anger.

Jenny bit her lower lip. She clutched the hem of her shirt as tears welled up in her eyes.

I met Dad's gaze. "Dad, may I see the sticks first?"

His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. "What do you need to see them for? Just draw. It's been three years. Don't you know how this works by now?"

I smiled and looked at him.

"Exactly. It's been three years. So I'd like to know what the sticks inside that wooden tube actually look like."

Mom's expression changed. She wanted to speak, but Dad silenced her with a glance.

"If you don't trust your Mom and me, then forget it. Just pretend we never–"

As he spoke, he reached to take the wooden tube away.

I reacted faster and grabbed it.

Clatter.

The tube fell to the floor.

Two drawing sticks rolled out. Both of them were white.