I Was the "Adopted" Kid They Trained

I've never been one to take a loss. If my dad, Jared Ingram, buys a cake for my sister, Harper Ingram, I'll demand to have half of it. If my mom, Lindsay Sutton, buys a phone for my brother, Simon Ingram, I'll demand to buy a new digital tablet. When I'm eight, my whole famy goes on a trip, and once again, they forget to buy a ticket for me. I run out onto the main road and call the police using a passerby's phone, claiming that my parents have abandoned me. My parents, who have only just left, are forced to turn back. Mom is so furious that she throws my adoption papers at me. "Beth, you're adopted. What more do you want from me?" From that day onward, I stop fighting for what I want. To stay in this family, I try my best to please everyone. When Simon gets in trouble, I kneel in the snow and plead for him. When Harper doesn't want to do her homework, I stay up all night to help her finish it. My parents work hard, so I take care of all the house chores. When my aunt, Brianna Lane, visits us, she pulls Mom into the room and asks, "Lindsay, how did you pull this off? You gave Harper, your adopted daughter, 3,000 dollars a month, but only 300 dollars to your own daughter. Why doesn't Beth ever makes a fuss about it?" Mom lets out an arrogant little laugh. "That's easy. I just told Beth that she was adopted. Forget giving her less money. Even if I gave her nothing at all, she'd still be grateful to me." Chapter 1 The fruit plate I was holding fell to the ground with a sharp clatter. The conversation in the room halted as I bent over to pick up the scattered grapes and oranges, my hands shaking. My mom, Lindsay Sutton's footsteps, grew closer, and she opened the door. When she noticed me squatting on the ground, her expression changed momentarily before returning to normal. "Beth, why are you so clumsy? You can eat the ones that fell on the floor. Wash another batch and bring them over." She sounded perfectly calm, like nothing had happened at all. I looked up at her and, for the first time, really studied her features. My almond-shaped eyes and curved brows looked just like hers, but because I was so sure that I was adopted, I never dared to think about it that way. My aunt, Brianna Lane, poked her head out from behind Mom. A flicker of awkwardness appeared on her face when she saw me. I didn't say anything and walked to the living room. When I passed the dining room, Harper Ingram was sitting there with her legs crossed, scrolling through her phone. The table was covered with expensive makeup she'd gotten from a personal shopper. My brother, Simon Ingram, was sprawled on the couch playing games, his brand-new jacket tossed over the back of a chair. The jacket I was wearing was still the one Brianna had bought me three years ago because she couldn't stand seeing me in my old one anymore. I went back to the kitchen and washed another plate of fruit. I didn't eat the ones that had fallen on the floor earlier. Since no one was in the kitchen, I ate a slice of pineapple. Fresh pineapple didn't taste like alcohol at all, and it didn't make my tongue tingle either. I ate one piece after another, as if that could make up for all the hardship I'd gone through over the past 14 years. When I brought the fruits to the table, Harper frowned. "Where's the pineapple? I thought Mom told you to buy it." "They fell on the floor. There isn't any left." "You're so useless!" Harper muttered and went back to browsing on her phone. If this had happened in the past, I would've apologized to her immediately. But now, I merely stared at her without saying a single word. Harper must have sensed that something was off and glanced at me. "What are you looking at?" "Nothing." Then I turned and walked back to my room. I slowly slid down the door with my back against it. For 14 whole years, from age 8 to 22, I had basically turned myself into a free maid in this house. Once I had calmed down, I dug out the adoption paper. The folds had already yellowed, and the edges were frayed. I had kept this paper that Mom threw in my face when I was eight all these years because I was afraid that one day, they might abandon me. At least this paper could prove that I once had a family. But now, this paper was the cruelest irony of all. Chapter 2 I hadn't been in the room long before Mom called me out to help her with dinner. When I was eight, I wasn't tall enough to reach the stove, so I could only peel garlic and wash vegetables for Mom. At nine, I started standing on a stool to cut up vegetables. By ten, Mom handed over all the kitchen work to me. She rarely praised me, but one time, she told me I was capable. Meanwhile, Harper, who was a year younger than me, lived like a princess. She didn't need to know the difference between scallions and chives. All she had to do was call out to Mom sweetly, and she'd get whatever she wanted. I started prepping the ingredients with practiced ease, working alone in the kitchen for four hours. By the time I served all 12 dishes, Simon and Harper were already seated, both on their phones. Not one of them even offered to help me. I had just sat down when Mom told me, "Beth, get some wine for your Uncle Seth." I did as I was told. "Beth, Harper finished her drink. Pour her some fruit juice." I simply obeyed. "Beth, place that dish in front of Simon. He loves it." I did as she asked. I was on my feet the whole meal, running around taking care of everyone. After they finished eating, I collected the dishes and cleaned up the table. Then I went into the kitchen and ate the leftovers alone. Brianna passed by and saw me, looking like she wanted to say something, but held it back. As she and my cousin, Mia Ingram, walked away, I heard Mia whisper, "Mom, Beth is their own daughter. Why does it feel like she's living worse than the adopted one?" Brianna cut her off. "Don't get involved." I paused for a moment before I continued eating. So they all knew Harper was the adopted one. I was the only one who had been kept in the dark. … The next day, I got up even earlier than usual. I hadn't slept all night, and my head was still a little foggy. Yet, I instinctively started making breakfast. By the time I regained my senses, there was already a spread on the table. Mom and Dad had sensitive stomachs, so they liked plain toast in the morning. Simon had a big appetite, so I cooked two extra eggs and added some sausages for him. Harper was a picky eater. I made her a pancake with cheese and bacon and cut it into small pieces so she could eat while she was on her phone. I had never made a decent breakfast for myself, though, and it didn't matter what I liked to eat because I only got whatever they left behind. This time, I made myself toast and eggs and sat down at the table for a bite. Who knew something as simple as this could taste this good? After I was done eating, I took a few strands of hair, roots and all, and went to the hospital, paying extra for an expedited DNA test. The next few hours were torture before I finally got the results. It was a 99.99% match between Mom and me, confirming that she was my biological mother. I stared at the report for a long time before folding it neatly and holding it against my chest. On the way home, I bumped into my elementary school friend, Jane Atkin. She turned around and looked at me several times before stopping. "Beth Ingram?" I nodded, and we chatted for a bit. Jane said, "I nearly didn't recognize you. You weren't like this when we were kids, were you?" "What was I like back then?" Jane pondered for a moment before answering, "You used to be like a little ray of sunshine, unafraid of anything." I waited until she was gone before letting myself cry. I was a demanding kid before I turned eight. Whenever my family bought something, I had to have one too. When Mom tugged on my ear and called me spoiled, I'd just grin and remind her I was her daughter, and she was the most amazing mom in the world. Finding out that I was "adopted" killed off all that confidence. I was never the same after that. Chapter 3 A week after the new semester started, the school announced that the dorm and textbook fees would cost 2,800 dollars altogether. The DNA test had already eaten up almost all the money I had, so after hesitating for a while, I finally picked up the courage to call Mom. When I told her what I wanted, there was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. "Why do you need money again? Didn't I just give 300 dollars last month?" "That was for my living expenses. This is for tuition." "Ugh, fine. I'll transfer it to you later." I waited a whole week, but nothing came. So I called Mom again. "Mom, the tuition…" "Beth, why is it that every time you call, you're asking for money? Harper's dance classes cost 4,000 dollars a semester, and Simon just signed up for driving school. Even though you're our adopted daughter, you're already an adult now. You can't just keep asking us for money." Maybe I stayed quiet for too long, because when Mom finally spoke again, her voice had turned a little awkward. "How about the end of the month? I'll transfer it once I get paid." By the end of the month, the school had already sent me three reminders about the unpaid fees, and I still hadn't received anything from Mom. Then my counselor messaged me privately. "Beth, is something going on at home? Are you having trouble with the fees?" I stared at my phone, typing out several lines before deleting them one by one. In the end, I replied, "Things are a little tight at home right now. I'll definitely pay it next week." When I went home Friday night, I heard Mom talking to my dad, Jared Ingram, before I even walked through the door. "Beth's tuition is 2,800 dollars. Transfer it to her." "We're out of money again? Didn't you just give her money last month?" "What can that amount even cover? Harper's shoes alone cost 800 dollars. If you hadn't insisted on adopting her back then…" I pushed the door open, and they both looked at me at the same time, their faces full of guilt. I pretended I hadn't heard a thing, changed my shoes, and went inside. The next morning, I got a notification on my phone. I'd received 300 dollars, and the note read, "This month's living expenses. Make it last." Of the tuition money I needed, I had only gotten 300 dollars. Sitting on my dorm bed, I laughed for a long time until my eyes started to sting. Yet, I didn't call to ask for the rest. Instead, I jotted down the amount in my old ledger. I'd been keeping track of every penny since I was eight—what I ate, what I used, and every bit of money I received. I didn't want my "adoptive" parents to lose money because of me, and I wanted to grow up quickly, get a job, and pay them back. Over the past 14 years, the total came to 48, 562.70 dollars. But I'd spent all those years working as the family's unpaid maid, doing things they would've had to pay someone else to do. Ten dollars for each meal. Three dollars for cleaning the house. At that rate, I'd have paid back everything they'd ever spent on me a long time ago. I didn't owe my parents anything anymore—not for giving birth to me, and not for raising me. And I didn't want to owe them anything ever again. My roommate, Tanya Kirk, noticed I was upset and asked me what was wrong. I tossed my overheated phone onto the bed. "Do you know any part-time jobs that pay fast?" Tanya looked a little surprised. "Don't you already have a few part-time jobs? And with grades like yours, why aren't you going to grad school?" "I'm broke." Tanya paused, and a few minutes later, she found me a part-time job waiting tables at a nice hotel. I'd help clear plates and wipe down tables during lunch and dinner, with meals included as part of the job. The pay was 200 dollars a day. Fortunately, I barely had any classes to attend during my senior year. A month later, I'd saved enough to pay for tuition. The day I paid it off, I treated myself to a bowl of beef stew. Just then, a freshman walked past with her arm linked through her mom's. The two of them chatted as the girl laughed happily. I looked down at my phone. Mom's last message was still from two weeks ago. It read, "Beth, the curtains need washing. Come back this weekend and take them down." So I went home as she'd asked, washed the curtains, and mopped the floors while I was at it. Mom sat on the couch scrolling through short videos, occasionally looking up at me. "Beth, do you have enough money to get through this month?" I paused because this was the first time she'd ever asked me that. "Yeah." She nodded. "Great. Harper spent too much this month, so I need to cover some of it for her. Be understanding, okay? After all…" I knew what she didn't say. Because I was adopted, I didn't deserve to live too well. But I was the one struggling to get by now, while Harper got to live comfortably. How could she not feel guilty about that? I continued mopping the floor without saying another word. Chapter 4 For the rest of the year, I stopped asking my parents for money and never went home again. They seemed to have forgotten about my living expenses too, and not once did they ask how I was doing. Watching my bank balance grow made me feel more confident that I could really leave them behind. Then the new year came. Before the new semester started, my family held a birthday celebration for Harper. This time, Mom cooked everything herself. My 22nd birthday had been less than a month earlier, and that day, I'd posted "Happy birthday to me" on my Instagram. Tanya and my coworkers from my part-time job liked that post, but not a single member of my family did. At first, I thought something was wrong with my phone. But when I was helping Dad adjust the font size, I noticed he'd hidden my posts from his feed. On the other hand, Harper was the only person he'd pinned at the top. Dad liked and commented on every post she made, then shared them to the family group chat. After the semester started, I went back to my part-time job at the hotel. Whenever I had free time, I sent out résumés to companies in other cities. The farther away the city was, the more applications I sent. Dozens of online interviews later, a design firm in Southia finally sent me a job offer. They offered me 8,000 dollars a month, with weekends off and full benefits. I was supposed to graduate at the end of June and start work after that. As graduation got closer, I went home again. This time, the whole family was focused on me. "Beth, have you found a job yet?" I hesitated momentarily before nodding. Mom's face immediately lit up. "That means you'll be staying in the company housing. Harper found an internship too. It's close to home. I always thought her room was too small. We can knock down the wall between her room and yours, so she'll have more space." Even though I'd already decided never to come back, hearing that still made my heart sink.They just assumed I'd be living in company housing, without caring where I was going to work or how far away it was. "Do whatever you want," I said. Harper exhaled and relaxed. Mom tapped her on the nose. "I already told you that your sister would agree to it. After all, we're family." I didn't stay the night, and just before I left, I couldn't help asking, "My graduation ceremony is next Saturday. Do you have time to come?" Dad checked the calendar and nodded. Seeing that, Mom nodded along. But then, Harper glanced at the calendar and said, "Oh, isn't that the day we planned to take our family photos? What should we do now?" Mom and Dad immediately changed their minds and said taking the family photos was more important. "It only happens once a year. We can't miss it." Yet, they didn't realize that my graduation ceremony was a once-in-a-lifetime event. … Soon, it was my graduation day. Just like all those times I'd carried my own luggage to school at the start of a new semester, I was on my own again. Once I picked up my diploma that afternoon, I went home and started packing. Back when I was a child, Harper and I had shared a big bedroom. But after Mom revealed that I was "adopted", I was moved into a cramped storage room no bigger than a walk-in closet. The small room had been cleared out for me at the last minute, and the light was always flickering. With the wind howling outside, I'd lie there with my eyes wide open, scared that if I closed them, some monster would come for me. It wasn't until I grew older that my fear started to fade. I didn't have much to take with me, just my ID, bank cards, a few changes of clothes, and the official paperwork they'd just gotten for me with only my name on it. When I left, my family still wasn't home, and no one even reminded me about the family photo. Their family photo from the year before was still hanging by the front door, and just like always, I wasn't in it. In all 13 years, I hadn't been in a single family photo. Harper was always the one who picked the date and time for the family photos, and somehow, I could never make it. Sometimes I was given the wrong date or time. Other times, she gave me the wrong location. Even when I managed to get there in time, the picture that ended up in the frame would still only have the four of them in it. I turned the family photo facedown. Then I placed my ledger, filled with all the expenses I'd kept track of, along with my DNA test results, on top of it. With that, I dragged my suitcase out and left the place that could hardly even be called home.