Fake Home

We'd just moved into a new house, and along with it came a brand-new fingerprint lock on the front door. On moving day, my parents rounded up the whole family to register their fingerprints. I was the only one left standing outside in the cold for half an hour. By the time I was finally let back in, my brother and sister were already testing the new lock, giddy with excitement. My mother cupped my sister's hand fondly, as if the fingerprint scanner might have hurt her fingers. "Oh, our little princess has her face and fingerprint all set up now. No need to worry about forgetting her keys." My father beamed, unable to stop smiling. "From now on, if anyone ever dares lock Cassandra out of this house, they'll have to answer to me first!" Nobody seemed to think there was anything wrong with that. I looked at the lock and asked quietly, "Dad, what about my fingerprint?" The smile on my father's face faltered for a second. He waved a hand dismissively. "The app for this lock only lets four people register. Your mom and I plus your brother and sister already fill all four slots. There's no room left for you." My mother shot me a look of open distaste. "You barely even leave the house. What do you need to register your fingerprint for? Just knock when you get back, isn't that simple enough?" I watched the four of them, huddled together in cheerful harmony, and thought back to something my parents had said when they bought the lock. 'A real family is one where anyone can push the door open and walk in, any time they want.' As it turned out, I had only ever been the outsider who had to knock. If there had never been a place for me in that house, then I decided I wouldn't be walking through that door again. Chapter 1 The motion-sensor light in the hallway went dark, worn out by my silence. I turned and made my way downstairs, my numb legs dragging with every step. I found a budget hotel nearby and checked in. That night, I slept like a log. The next day after work, I called a rental agent and found a studio apartment close to my office. I paid the deposit, then went back to the house with its brand-new fingerprint lock. I stood outside the door and rang the bell. From inside came the sound of laughter from a variety show. A while later, footsteps shuffled slowly toward the door. The door opened, and Cassandra Mapes poked her head out. The smile on her face faded the instant she saw me. "You're just getting back? We already finished dinner," she said, blocking the doorway without any intention of stepping aside. "I'm just here to grab a few things," I said. I slipped past her into the entryway and bent down to change my shoes. But the shoe rack was nearly empty, save for a row of brand-new designer sneakers. My slippers were gone. "Where did you run off to last night? Didn't even say a word. Your temper just keeps getting worse," my mother said, coming out of the kitchen with a plate of sliced fruit and glancing at me. "Your old slippers were worn through anyway, so I tossed them when we moved. You can go in barefoot." I didn't answer. I just padded across the floor in my socks, heading straight for the end of the hallway. When I pushed open the door to the second bedroom, I froze. My single bed was gone, and so was my old desk. In their place stood a wall of custom-built closets, packed with Cassandra's dresses and designer bags. An unfamiliar perfume had replaced the smell of old books. Cassandra trailed after me, not even trying to hide the satisfaction in her voice. "Mom said I had too many clothes and the old closet couldn't fit them all. This room gets the best light, so it's perfect for a walk-in closet." I turned to look at the person eating an apple on the couch. "Where are my things?" My mother didn't even glance up from the television. "They're on the balcony. That junk should've been thrown out ages ago," she said flatly. "You're always working late anyway. Nobody even sees you around here. Just lay something down in the living room tonight and make do." She said it so matter-of-factly, as if the fact that I no longer had a bed to sleep in in this new house was nothing worth mentioning. I went out to the balcony, crouched down, and opened the top box. My clothes had been balled up and crammed inside without care. My photo albums and diary were buried at the bottom, their covers torn. Cassandra walked over and kicked the box. "Sort this stuff out already. I want to put a vanity out here tomorrow." This time, I didn't argue about who'd been there first, the way I used to. I didn't even ask where I was supposed to sleep. I pulled a few changes of clothes out of the box and stuffed them into my bag. "Got it," I said. My mother scoffed from the living room. "Walking around with a face like she's owed a million dollars." I stood up and ignored the jab behind me. Just a little longer, I told myself. Six more days until my new apartment was ready. Chapter 2 Maybe it was the half hour I'd spent freezing outside. In the middle of the night, I came down with a raging fever. My whole body ached like I'd been run over by a car. I curled up on a rusted old folding cot, wrapped in a thin blanket, and gritted my teeth until dawn. It was the weekend, and the house was unusually lively. My brother, Tyler Mapes, had just won the city basketball championship, and the whole family was celebrating. The smell of cooking drifted from the kitchen, the roar of the range hood mixing with my parents' laughter. By noon, the food was on the table. Tyler cheered and ran over, while Cassandra snapped a flurry of photos of the spread with her phone. I braced myself against the wall, fighting off wave after wave of chills, and dragged my heavy feet into the living room for a glass of warm water. The table was crowded with seafood. Steamed snow crab, garlic butter scallops, and a heaping pot of spicy Cajun crawfish, glistening red. I stared at the pot of crawfish, and a chill settled in my stomach. Everyone in the family knew I was allergic to shellfish. It broke me out in hives every time. And on top of that, I was running a fever. I couldn't handle anything spicy right now anyway. My father popped open a bottle of beer, about to pour Tyler a glass, when he turned and spotted me. His brow furrowed, displeasure written all over his face. "What's with that face? It's a happy occasion, and you just have to come in here looking like a wet blanket?" I couldn't help coughing. My throat was so raw I could barely get words out. "I have a fever. Is there any fever medicine in the house?" My mother spooned some crab roe into Tyler's bowl, then turned to me and pinched her nose in disgust. "How do you go and get a fever out of nowhere again? You're always causing some kind of trouble. "Stay away from the table. Don't go giving your germs to your brother. He has midterms next week." She pulled a twenty out of her pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table. "We didn't make anything bland today. Go buy yourself a bowl of noodles downstairs. "Take a walk outside after you eat, and don't come back until your fever's gone." I stared at the bill for a couple of seconds. I didn't pick it up. I turned and walked straight out the door. It had started drizzling outside at some point, and the wind cut straight through to the bone. I hailed a cab alone and went to a community clinic nearby. My temperature came back at 102.56°F. As the nurse hooked up my IV, she couldn't help muttering, "Your fever's this high and you're only coming in now? No family with you?" I shook my head and watched the cold liquid drip steadily into my vein. My phone buzzed. It was a message from my boyfriend, Eddie Davis. [Kitty, what are you up to this weekend?] I stared at the screen, my eyes stinging, and typed back one-handed: [At the clinic, getting an IV.] Less than twenty minutes later, the clinic's glass door swung open. Eddie strode in, still damp from the rain, carrying an insulated food container. The moment he saw how pale I looked, his brow knit tight, and he hurried over to sit beside me. "How did you end up with a fever this bad? Where are your parents?" I leaned against his broad shoulder and closed my eyes. "They're busy." Eddie didn't press for more. He just unscrewed the container and poured out a steaming bowl of chicken and rice soup. He blew on a spoonful to cool it, then carefully brought it to my lips. Warmth finally spread through my stomach. My phone screen suddenly lit up. It was a photo Cassandra had posted in the family group chat. In it, the four of them were gathered around a huge two-tier cake, all smiles. The message right under it read: [Our happy family weekend!] I looked at the photo for a moment, then tapped my finger lightly on the screen. I left the group chat. Chapter 3 Monday night, I was working late on the balcony. It was an extremely important bid, and the final proposal was due first thing the next morning. The folding cot was too small to work on, so I balanced my laptop on my knees and typed by the faint glow of the moon and the screen. In the living room, Tyler sprawled across the couch playing video games, the sound effects blasting. I rubbed my aching eyes and got ready to do a final formatting check. Suddenly, Tyler clicked his tongue in irritation. "Why's this stupid tablet dead again?" He shuffled onto the balcony in his slippers, charger in hand, glancing around. There was only one outlet on the balcony, and my laptop was plugged into it. The battery had long since worn out. Unplugged, it wouldn't last a minute. Without a second thought, Tyler reached over and grabbed my power cord. "Don't pull that out!" I cried out and lunged to stop him. But it was too late. The plug came out with a sharp snap as he yanked it free. My screen went black instantly. I froze, my mind completely blank. "Why would you pull my power cord?" Tyler plugged his own charger in and pursed his lips. "It's just a plug. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? "How was I supposed to know your junky laptop couldn't last a single minute? Worst case, I'll charge it back up for you later." I got to my feet, my temples throbbing. "I was working on tomorrow's final bid proposal! Do you have any idea how long I spent writing it?" Hearing the commotion, my father came in from the living room, his face dark. "What's going on? What's all this shouting for in the middle of the night?" I pointed at the blank screen, my voice shaking beyond my control. "He pulled my power cord. My entire proposal is gone." My father glanced at Tyler, then back at me, his frown deepening. "It's not that big of a deal. If it's gone, just write it again. You're the older sister. Why are you yelling at your brother over some stupid proposal?" My mother came out of the bedroom too, a face mask still on, grumbling as she went. "Exactly. All you ever do is work, work, work. What's the point of that pathetic salary anyway? "Tyler has school tomorrow. Don't go scaring him like this." The three of them stood together under the living room's warm light, united against me, their faces full of impatience. Looking at their self-righteous expressions, I suddenly felt like the whole argument had lost its point. I packed the laptop into my bag and turned to walk out. "Where do you think you're going?" my father barked behind me. I pulled open the front door without looking back. "Back to the office." The cold air in the hallway hit my face. Just two more days, I told myself. I only had to hold on for two more days. Chapter 4 The last day. After work, I headed to the bank to withdraw some money. I was signing the lease tomorrow, first month plus a three-month deposit, and I still needed to buy some basic necessities. I sat down at the counter and handed over my payroll card. My mother had forced me to open the account back when I first started working. It was under her name, supposedly to help me save. Over the past few years, I'd scrimped and saved until the balance hit twenty thousand dollars. The teller typed for a few moments, then looked up at me apologetically. "I'm sorry, miss, but the balance on this card is only two dollars and thirty-five cents." I froze, certain I'd misheard. "That's impossible. There should be twenty thousand dollars in there. Please check again." The teller turned the screen toward me. "The twenty thousand you're talking about, it was all spent just recently." I don't know how I made it out of the bank. When I pushed open the front door to my family home, the living room was full of laughter. Tyler was trying on a new pair of sneakers, Cassandra was snapping selfies with the latest foldable smartphone, and shopping bags were piled on the couch. My mother sat on the couch, watching them with a satisfied smile. I walked up to the coffee table and stared straight into her eyes. "Where's the twenty thousand from my account?" The room went quiet for a beat. The smile faded from my mother's face. She picked up her teacup and took a sip, her tone dismissive. "Oh, I spent it. Cassandra's phone was lagging and she wouldn't stop nagging me for a new one. Tyler had his eye on those sneakers for ages, so I bought them for the two of them." I was shaking with anger. "That was my money! Money I saved up working overtime, night after night, for," I started. "For what?" My father looked up and slammed a hand on the table. "Your money is the family's money! We feed you, we house you. What's wrong with spending a little of it?" My mother let out a cold laugh too. "Exactly. You eat our food and live under our roof every day. What's so wrong with the older sister spending a little on her brother and sister? "I gave birth to you and raised you, and you act like the world's ending over a little spent money. I'd have been better off raising a dog than an ungrateful wretch like you!" Off to the side, Cassandra fiddled with her new phone and muttered under her breath. "It's just money. Do you really have to be this petty about it? So stingy." Twenty-some years of grievance, resentment, and swallowed pride finally came crashing down in that one moment. I looked at the four faces in front of me, at once so familiar and so foreign. My body stopped shaking, all at once. A strange, almost laughable calm settled over me. I turned and walked to the balcony, picking up the last of my clothes. "What are you doing?" My father shot to his feet, his face livid. My mother's voice rose behind me, sliding back into her usual sneer. "Here we go again! Threatening to run away every five minutes, who do you think you're scaring?" "I'm telling you, Kitty Mapes, if you've got the guts to walk out that door, don't you ever come back!" "Fine." I said it quietly, just the one word. I walked out and swung the door shut hard behind me. It slammed shut with a heavy thud. The fingerprint lock let out its cold electronic chime. This time, I wasn't going to look back.