My Parents Have Double Standards

On the first day I returned to the Schmidt family, my parents told me, "Christina, you may be our biological daughter, but Jenny has been part of this family for fifteen years. She's a daughter of the Schmidt family too. "A biological daughter and an adopted daughter are both our daughters. We love you both equally." To make sure no one could accuse them of favoring either of us, they said every important decision from then on would be made by drawing lots. A red stick meant the better outcome, and a white stick meant the worse one. It was fair and impartial. Over the past three years, we drew lots 47 times for matters big and small, but not once did I draw a red stick. I truly believed I was just unlucky. It wasn't until the 48th drawing. This time, the Schmidt family had to send one person to the countryside. Whoever drew the white stick would be sent to the countryside, and whoever drew the red stick would stay in the city and start working there. As I passed the study, I overheard Mom speaking to Dad. "Don't forget to replace tomorrow's sticks with two white ones. Jenny's body is too weak. She can't endure the hardship of being sent to the countryside. "Christina spent fifteen years in the countryside. She's used to it." I stood outside the door while still holding the glass of warm milk I had just prepared for myself. The glass felt hot in my palm, yet no warmth could reach the chill that had settled deep inside my heart. It turned out nothing had been fair over the last three years. Chapter 1 I didn't push the door open. Still holding the glass of milk, I quietly returned to my attic room. The attic was tiny, stifling in the summer, and drafty in the winter. A single wooden bed took up nearly half the space. Jenny's room was downstairs. It faced the south, where the winter sun streamed in. That was the result of one of our lottery draws. Three years ago, when I had just returned to the Schmidt family, Mom held my hands and said I had suffered a lot with tears in her eyes. Dad stood beside her. Even his usually stern face softened with emotion. Jenny called my name sweetly and eagerly showed me her closet full of new dresses and shelves packed with books. At the time, I thought I was the happiest girl in the world. That very evening, Mom announced the family's new rule. "To be fair, and to put Jenny's mind at ease, from now on, every important matter in this family will be decided by drawing lots." She retrieved a wooden tube containing two drawing sticks. "The red stick means the better outcome, and the white stick means the worse one. Whoever draws red is simply lucky. Whoever draws white has no one to blame." The very first drawing was for the bedrooms. "There aren't any extra rooms in the house. There's only one south-facing bedroom and one attic." Mom looked at Jenny. "Christina has just come home, and she's the older sister. Why don't you let her draw first?" Jenny smiled and nodded. I remember thinking then that having a younger sister wasn't so bad. Mom handed me the wooden tube. After taking a deep breath, I reached inside and pulled out a stick. It was white. After that, she never handed the tube to Jenny. "Jenny, there's no need for you to draw. Since your sister got the white stick, the red one naturally belongs to you." "Thank you, Mom!" Jenny happily wrapped her arms around Mom's. She never even touched the wooden tube. I carried my small bundle up to the attic while telling myself it was only the first time. I had simply been unlucky. Next time would surely be different. But for three whole years, my luck never changed. Lying on my bed, I stared at the slanted rafters as tears silently slipped down my face. Mom's words echoed repeatedly in my mind. 'Christina spent fifteen years in the countryside. She's used to it.' She said I was used to it. It turned out that in their eyes, the suffering I had endured was only natural. Chapter 2 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. Chapter 3 Mom's face instantly drained of color. Dad froze for a split second before quickly putting on a look of surprise. "Huh? How could this happen? I distinctly remember putting one red stick and one white stick in there!" I said nothing. I simply watched the two of them put on their performance as if no one else were in the room. A few seconds later, Dad suddenly exclaimed, "Ahh!" He crouched down as if picking something up from the floor. "It fell out. That explains it!" When he stood upright again, there was a red stick in his hand. It was the first red stick I had ever seen. It was bright crimson from end to end and as vivid as fresh blood. Jenny's eyes lit up as if she'd discovered something extraordinary. She held the red stick up and waved it in front of me. "See, Christina? There is a red stick! Who said there wasn't?" The house fell silent. The only sound was the steady ticking of the old wall clock. I took the red stick from her and examined it in my palm. I then quietly placed it back into the wooden tube. Now, with one red stick and one white stick inside, it was finally fair. I looked up at Dad's horrified expression and Mom's uneasy expression. Softly, I asked, "Dad, Mom, can we draw lots now?" Mom opened her mouth but couldn't find any words. Dad's gaze turned dull. He stared at the wooden tube in my hands before looking at me. Only after a long silence did he start speaking. "Go ahead." "Jenny should draw first." I set the wooden tube in the center of the table. "She's always been lucky. Maybe she'll draw the red stick right away." The smile on Jenny's face stiffened. She glanced helplessly at Mom. Mom started to speak, but I beat her to it. "However, Jenny's health isn't good, and she can't handle hardship. If she ends up drawing the white stick, I'll go to the countryside in her place. I'm her older sister anyway." The moment I said that, Dad, Mom, and Jenny all brightened up. But seeing me continue to watch her, Jenny's face turned pale. Forcing a smile, she said, "Christina, what are you talking about? Our family has always been fair. Whatever you draw is what you get." "Really?" I smiled. "Then that's perfect. Go ahead." Jenny reached into the wooden tube. She hesitated. Her slender fingers hovered over the opening for what felt like forever before finally plunging inside. She drew out a stick. She didn't dare look immediately. Covering the tip with her palm, she slowly peeked through a tiny gap. Then, the color drained completely from her face. It was white. It was as if the white tip of the stick stabbed her right in the eyes. She shot to her feet, and her chair scraped harshly across the concrete floor. "Why is it white? That's impossible!" She turned to face Dad, then Mom, and her voice broke into sobs. "Dad! Mom! I'm not going to the countryside!" "Jenny!" Dad cut her off sharply. His expression was darker than ever. Being sent to the countryside was supposed to be an honorable thing. Everyone knew how miserable it would be, but no one dared say it out loud. Mom hurried to Jenny's side. She gently patted Jenny's back while glancing at me uneasily. "Christina, look. Your sister, she–" "A white stick is a white stick," I cut her off calmly. "Mom, Jenny just said it herself. Our family is the fairest. It's been three years. Surely it's finally my turn to draw a red stick." I reached into the wooden tube and pulled out the remaining stick. It was red. It was the color of blood. It almost felt like it was mocking me for the past three years of my life. I placed it gently on the table and slid it toward Dad. "Dad, I drew the red stick. According to the rules, I get to stay in the city and start work. Jenny goes to the countryside." I paused before looking at Mom's pale face and Jenny's tear-filled eyes. "Jenny's too frail to handle that kind of hardship. That's okay. I'll inform the City Hall that I'll go instead. That way–" I let the sentence hang for a moment. "You won't have to secretly replace both sticks with white ones just to fool me." Mom looked up in shock. "C-Christina, we never did that! "Your father just accidentally dropped one–" "Mom, I heard everything last night. "For three years, every single draw ended with me getting the white stick. If I'd used my brain even a little, I would've realized something was wrong." I stood up and pushed my chair back under the table. "Dad, Mom, for those 47 drawings over the past three years, I believed every one of them. I thought I was simply unlucky. It turns out you just never wanted me to have a better life. "Since the beginning, this family never truly wanted me. "If that's the case, then I don't want this family either."