When I was three years old, during a car accident, I was struck in the head by a car while trying to protect Mom.

After that, the doctors said something inside my head had broken, and I'd never be quite right. Everyone back home called me the slow one.

Late at night, I'd see her crying alone.

On my seventh birthday, Mom took me to Manhattan, and that was when I discovered that she had a second home and another daughter, Charlotte.

In front of strangers, she wouldn't claim me. She only let me call her Miss Eleanor.

On the third night, She sat down at her vanity. On the table was a small black box.

I thought it was a present.

She opened the box and took out a black silicone bracelet, with a little light embedded in the clasp—small, dark, switched off.

"This is called a TruthBand. It's something a company in California makes. The light turns green when you tell the truth, and red when you lie. If you wear this, Mommy will always know."

She fastened it around my wrist. Tight.

The little light blinked green.

I thought that if I was good enough, she would love me the way she loved my sister.

But then she made me do ski practice with Charlotte. Charlotte was a junior champion.

"You're both my daughters. I don't play favorites. Whoever falls, gets punished."

Charlotte never fell. I couldn't even keep my skis straight. Every single run, I was the one Mama dragged off the mountain and locked in the cellar.

On Thanksgiving Day, Mama spent the whole afternoon cooking.

I wanted to help. I dropped a bowl.

She closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were red. She grabbed a little pill bottle off the counter, tipped my chin up, and forced something between my teeth.

"Dumb as a rat. Are you happy now? Did you finally embarrass me enough? "

I lay on the kitchen floor, gasping. While she wasn't looking, I scraped up three little pink pellets that had spilled and tucked them into my fist.

Mommy, I told myself, I'll be good now, and then you'll be happy. Right?

I wiped the blood off my mouth and slipped one of the pellets between my lips.

I swallowed it down with spit.

Mama was already across the room, holding Charlotte, soothing her while Charlotte laughed into her shoulder. Mama didn't notice the porcelain shard digging into my palm.

I kept my head down and slid the little pill bottle into the belly of my stuffed bunny.

Mrs. Hayes, the housekeeper, looked at my hand and sighed.

"Why can't you behave? Just give your mother a little peace."

"Mrs. Ashford told me this bracelet thing is recommended by experts. It's supposed to help you. It'll teach you not to lie. She bought it for you, you understand? She's trying to help."

I nodded.

I know Mama is trying to help.

But when I tell the truth, it goes red anyway.

Maybe I'm so slow I can't even tell the truth right.

She walked me upstairs and shoved a clean dress over my head. Then, the way she always did, she sank her nails into the soft part of my arm and twisted.

"You disgusting little stray. How is a slow thing like you supposed to be anyone's daughter? Now I have to wait on you. You're nothing but baggage."

Coming back down the staircase, my stomach turned over. A wave of pain rolled through me. I bit down on my lip so I wouldn't cry.

I can't make Mommy worry. I can't be more trouble than I already am.

Then the room tilted. My foot missed the next step, and I tumbled. My head cracked against the floor.

The porcelain shard ground deeper into my palm, opening a long red line.

"Clumsy. Can't even walk across a room."

Mama hauled me up by my arm and dumped me on the couch.

Charlotte was sitting at her side in a pretty dress, smug, stroking the gold charm bracelet Mama had given her. She had told me only Mama's favorite daughter got jewelry like that.

I looked down at the black band on my wrist and told myself that Mama had given me something too. She had picked it out for me, because she cared. Mama must love me.

But my chest hurt anyway, like there was something heavy sitting on it, and I couldn't get a full breath.

Later, Charlotte pushed me into the pool again. My nose and mouth filled with water. I came up coughing.

I was so cold all over that the bruises stopped hurting.

I sank down against the wall of the pool. I just sat there for a long time. I couldn't make myself stand up.

Mama's eyes cut over to me. Her voice came down on top of me, irritated.

"Why can't you learn anything from your sister? You're not smart, fine, but on top of that you've learned to lie? What did I do to deserve a child like you?"

A new spasm of pain hit my stomach. I doubled over and instinctively flinched away from her hand.

She froze with her hand still in the air. Her brows pulled together.

"It's not—"

She cut me off. "So now you're slow and you talk back?"

My chest squeezed tight. I gripped my soaked dress and pointed behind me, at Charlotte, who was hiding behind her shoulder.

"Lying again. Let me guess, you're going to blame your sister?"

I shook my head fast. My voice came out shaky.

A cold wind blew in from the open doors and I shivered. The cramping in my stomach hit again.

"I'm not lying. Charlotte pushed."

The bracelet flashed red.

Beep.

Mama's eyes traveled down from my face to the red light on my wrist.

The look on her face was worse than anger; it was disappointment. My throat closed up. Was I really a bad kid? Was I really lying? How was this happening?

"Do you understand what the bracelet is telling you right now?"

"Mommy, I'm not lying. I swear."

Beep beep beep. The faster I tried to explain, the faster the red came.

"Enough."

Her face went dark. The next thing I felt was the back of a hairbrush coming down across my palm.

Once. Then again. And again.

The cuts on my hand were already half-scabbed. Every time the hairbrush hit, the sharp sting pulled all the way down through my chest.

The cramping in my belly was twisting tighter and tighter. I was sweating cold.

She caught the look on my face. "Don't put on an act. A few smacks and you can't take it?"

Tears rolled down. My voice came out thin, breath catching.

"Mommy, I'm sorry, I—"

She wiped her hand on a towel and left me there, shaking, palm burning, sobbing quietly to myself.

The room was empty.

I stared at the red light still glowing on my wrist.

I started to wonder if I had remembered it wrong. Maybe Charlotte hadn't pushed me. Maybe I had just fallen in on my own.

Mommy, is the machine right?

So I am lying, then?

I rolled on the floor, curled up around the pain, and my hand bumped against a bottle. It was Mama's prescription bottle, the one she took for her headaches.

If I fell asleep, maybe it wouldn't hurt anymore.

"What are you doing? Taking pills to play sick?"

Mama snatched the bottle out of my hand. I lost my balance, and my back slammed into the corner of the table.

Glass shattered everywhere.

A pot of hot water tipped, and scalding water poured over my arm.

I screamed. I yanked my sleeve up.

My arm was bruised everywhere, purple and red, swelling.

Mama's eyes narrowed for a second, then her face smoothed out again.

"Why are you so pale? You'd rather play with water than mind your own business. Mrs. Hayes, put some ointment on her."

I stayed on the floor. Every breath made my whole body hurt.

"Stop it. It's just a burn. Take the ointment and you'll be fine."

When I didn't move, she let out a slow breath.

"Don't lie there feeling sorry for yourself. Making this face won't change the fact that you are a bad kid. If I were soft on you, I'd spoil you, and then who's going to put up with you when I'm too old to take care of you?"

She grabbed my arm and pulled, hard. Cold sweat ran down my back.

The room blurred.

"I'm not pretending."

She didn't believe me. She let go of my arm in disgust and turned to get the hairbrush.

"She's bleeding."

Someone gasped.

I looked down. Blood had soaked through my white socks.

A dull, late wave of pain twisted up under my ribs, and my stomach lurched. My teeth started chattering. The room spun, and I slid down onto the floor.

I told Mama there was a nail in my shoe. The second I said it, the red light flickered on my wrist again, and Mama's face went stiff and disgusted. She said if I lied one more time, she'd send me back to the holler.

Every step I took, my foot felt like it was being drilled into, but being sent away from Mama would be worse, so I kept quiet.

"So now you're hurting yourself for attention. Fine. Go act out somewhere else where I can't see you."

Outside, the wind was wild and the rain came down hard.

I hurt everywhere. My hand hurt. My foot hurt.

Through the bay window I could see Mama in the warm light, holding Charlotte, smiling, braiding her hair.

This time even the place inside my chest that didn't have a cut was hurting.

Mommy, am I not your kid?

How can you hold her and braid her hair, and turn your face away the second you see me?

I started shivering so hard I couldn't stop. My eyelids got heavy and slow, and my stomach felt like something had split open inside.

I bit down on my arm and curled up around the stuffed bunny, holding him tight.

I can't let him get wet.

He's the only thing she ever made for me.

She had sewn him out of one of her old dresses when I was little. One of his ears had fallen off, and I had stitched it back on myself, crooked.

Holding the bunny, I started thinking about Daddy.

A cramp ripped through me, sharp and fine, like a hundred tiny needles going in at once.

The hole in my chest was getting bigger. I hugged my knees and dug the little bottle out of my pocket with shaking fingers, and I ate another of the pink candies.

It went down my throat. There was a little sweetness to it.

It didn't hurt so much now.

The next morning, my eyes opened. My arm was wrapped in bandages.

Mrs. Hayes told me an important visitor was coming over, and I shouldn't say anything weird.

My stomach growled. I remembered that today was Mama's birthday.

Before we came here, I'd had my own seventh birthday.

But Mama always said I was going to be three forever.

I didn't really understand what "forever" meant. But three was a good age.

When you're three, you can sleep with your bunny, and eat all the sugar you want, and tug on Mama's skirt when she's sad.

I patted my dizzy head and tried hard to remember.

But my legs felt lighter and lighter underneath me. I bit my lip, concentrated, and baked her a birthday cupcake. Just one. I burned the bottom because I couldn't tell when it was done, and I stuck a single candle in the top.

Down in the main room, everyone was gathered around the long table, looking through Charlotte's photo album.

"Mommy. Happy birthday."

Then I went down.

My vision blacked out and I hit the floor. The cupcake rolled across the rug, the candle smashed, and frosting got all over the open album.

Charlotte's eyes welled up like she'd been hit. Mama's face went stone-cold.

"You did this on purpose. You ruined her photos. You're that jealous? Just because I never took pictures of you?"

"I swear, I owe you something. You were born to ruin my life."

I was scared, but I didn't know how to explain. I didn't know what to do, and a drop of blood slid down off my nose and hit the floor.

Then she stopped.

Her eyes followed the drop down.

I reached up to my face. Blood was running from my nose, fast. The cake batter on the floor was already turning into a sticky red puddle.

The collar of my dress was bright red. When I looked behind me, I saw bright red drops all over the floor, a whole trail of them.

Mama was a clean person. I scrambled to my knees and started wiping the floor with my sleeve.

The more I wiped, the worse it got.

"What is going on? Why is there so much blood?" Mama's face had gone still.

"I didn't mean to, Mommy, I—"

"So you ate the frosting. We can afford to feed you. You don't have to make this much of a scene, and now you're bleeding from your nose?"

Was she actually worried about me? I didn't know why, but the tears just started coming. Mama hadn't sounded like that in so long. I was so happy I forgot the pain.

I reached out for her. "Mommy."

Before my fingers touched her, Charlotte came out of the kitchen holding an empty bottle.

"Look, my little sister ate all the strawberry jam."

"It's not jam," I said, and the red light flashed again.

Mama stepped back. "Wonderful. Now you've figured out how to play the victim."

Mrs. Hayes grabbed my arm and dragged me, silent, up to the attic.

I lay on the floor and beat my fists against the iron door.

"Mommy, it's dark in here. Daisy is scared."

It was cold, too.

I curled up around my bunny and shook, tears just rolling down. I pressed my face into him and tried to smell the jasmine on him, which was Mama's perfume.

A memory came up.

Charlotte had a whole playhouse stuffed with toys Mama had bought her.

Mama wore a silver locket. Inside the locket was Charlotte's school photo.

One time I'd just wanted to peek at the photo. Mama had shoved me away and pulled Charlotte close.

"Do you know how much time I've spent on you these last few years? I haven't been able to be there for your sister. And you're still going to compete with her for it?"

I had stood there listening, and it had hurt so much that I couldn't say anything back.

Mama, you don't even have one picture of me.

Even my hand, when I reach out, you don't want.

Up in the cold attic, I felt around in my pocket and found the bottle. There was only one pellet left.

I looked at the bracelet.

The light was red.

I hadn't said a word. I was just sitting there, curled up around the pain in my stomach, and I still hadn't said anything.

The bracelet stayed red.

Maybe it could read what I was thinking, too. I was thinking Mommy over and over, and it was lighting up.

Then I'll stop thinking it.

The candy was almost gone. I didn't want to use the last one.

But it hurt so much.

Outside, the sun was up, and I could hear party noises and music starting.

I dragged myself across the floor to the window.

Colored balloons were bobbing in the wind. Down there it looked like another world entirely.

I pressed my hand to my chest where it hurt.

"It's just heartbreaking, really. Ma'am got separated from her family, lost her memory, suffered out for years, and now on top of all that she's got this slow one to deal with."

"If you ask me, she has a kind heart even bringing her back. I would have left her where she was."

"Today's the gala to introduce the daughter. We need to keep an eye on this one. She can't make a scene."

My eyes stung. I patted the bunny's torn ear.

It's okay. It's okay. Don't cry now.

I lifted my hand and my fingertips came back wet.

I scrunched up in the corner. My sleeves were soaked through with crying.

So today is the day Mama tells everyone Charlotte is her daughter.

But I'm her daughter too. Why won't she say it for me?

Charlotte was in a princess dress, and Mama had a soft smile on her face I'd never seen before.

Mommy, is there no room for me in this house?

Then the door flew open.