I started to feel guilty. Part of me wanted to tell them the truth.
I didn't want Laurel to keep living like this.
All I'd wanted was to see how far they'd go for her. To see, with my own eyes, just how deep the favoritism ran.
I never wanted her to suffer.
I was just about to come clean.
Then Mom turned to me, her eyes bloodshot and blazing.
"Why isn't it you?" she spat. "Why couldn't it have been you, Lillian?"
"When I was pregnant with you, I thought for sure you'd be a boy. But no, you turned out to be another girl, and not just any girl, a colicky, impossible nightmare of a child!"
"Up all night, every single night. Still needing to be nursed at eighteen months! If it weren't for you, I never would have lost my job!"
She was right about one thing: Mom despised me. Always had.
According to her, Laurel had been a perfect baby from the day she was born. Ate, slept, ate, slept. Never caused a moment of trouble. Because Laurel was so easy, Grandma and Grandpa Sally and Andrew were happy to come help out. Once Laurel was a little older, Mom went back to work.
Then, when Laurel turned three, the grandparents started pushing for a grandson.