My son, Ethan, is brilliant, sharp as a tack. Everyone says he’s gifted, a boy genius. My daughter, Penny… well, she’s the slow one, can barely string a sentence together. She makes me look like a fool in public. Sometimes, I’ve even thought… it would be better if she were just… gone. But then, Penny really did die. And all I do now is cry, wishing she’d come back. 1. I was right in the middle of Ethan’s parent-teacher conference when Penny’s homeroom teacher called. "Hello, is this Penny Miller’s mother?" The teacher on the other end confirmed who I was, then continued, "You weren't able to make it to the conference today, and I wanted to chat about Penny's latest grades. Would you happen to have some time? I could stop by for a home visit…" "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ms. Evans," I said, scanning the classroom for Ethan's desk. "Her dad and I have just been swamped with work lately, couldn't get away." I found Ethan’s spot and sat down, distracted. "Could you just text me her report card? I’m actually in the middle of something right now. I’ll call you back later." I mumbled some excuse, eager to get off the phone, and hung up without a second thought. The mom next to me glanced over. "Ethan's mom, I didn't know you had a daughter too!" she asked, curious. "Your son is so amazing, your daughter must be doing great in school too, right? What grade is she in? Where does she go?" My face stiffened. I forced a tight smile, trying to hide how awkward I felt, terrified someone would sense something was wrong. Nobody would believe it if I told them. My son brought home trophies from Mathletes, writing contests, piano competitions like they were giving them away. My daughter? She was practically non-verbal, a little simpleton. I was embarrassed to even admit they were siblings when we were out. But secrets have a way of getting out. Since I wasn't saying anything, the parent in front of me suddenly chimed in, "Ethan's mom, is Penny Miller in 8th grade your daughter? My oldest son is in her class." "Yes… She grew up mostly with her grandmother, you know, out of state. The schools weren't great there. She only transferred here for middle school." My face flushed crimson. That was the best I could manage, a flimsy excuse to cover my embarrassment. "Oh, that explains it! I was wondering why they were so different. My son mentioned it, but I didn't really believe him." The parent in front chuckled, covering her mouth. "Well, it doesn't really matter," she said, her tone dripping with insinuation. "As long as the girl's pretty. Just needs to work on her speaking, maybe she could be an influencer or something later. You don't need much education for that nowadays." I felt the sting of her mockery, my cheeks burning. I wished the floor would swallow me whole. It was all Penny’s fault. Failing every subject, always at the bottom of the class, making me, her mother, look bad too. And her teacher, making such a big deal out of everything. So what if I missed the conference? Did she really have to call and rub it in? Wasn’t I humiliated enough? Just as I was sinking into my seat, wanting to disappear, Ethan walked over quietly, report card in hand. "Mom, here are my grades." I took it automatically. One look, and my mood instantly lifted. All the irritation vanished. Just as I expected, Ethan was number one in his grade again. Perfect scores in Physics and Math, even. I glanced at the faces of the other parents clutching their kids' report cards; you could tell from their expressions their kids hadn't done nearly as well. "Ethan's first again! You really know how to raise them, Mrs. Miller." "Look at you! Why can't you be more like Ethan Miller? Look at these grades! Are you even trying?" "Mom, Ethan's naturally gifted! How am I supposed to compete with that…" Listening to the praise for Ethan and the complaints other parents had about their own kids, a small smile touched my lips. See? It wasn't that I favored my son. It was just that compared to my daughter's utter lack of potential, my son was simply… outstanding. Smart, talented, exceptional. That was what my child was supposed to be. 2. Basking in the envious looks from the other parents, I happily examined Ethan’s report card, turning it over and over. Ethan stood beside me silently the whole time. It wasn't until a few tall boys in school jackets walked past the back door, winking and nudging him, that he reacted. "Yo, Ethan! Let's go shoot some hoops!" "Are those your friends?" I paused, surprised, looking skeptically at my slight son. Ethan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the leader of the group politely bowed towards me. "Hi, Mrs. Miller. Nice to meet you. We're Ethan's friends." He turned back to Ethan with a grin. "Ethan, didn't we say we had that game today?" Ethan mumbled a soft "Yeah," then looked at me for permission. "Mom, can I go hang out with my friends for a bit?" "Of course! Young people should be active. You shouldn't just sit home studying all the time. Go get some exercise." I agreed cheerfully. Even though I prioritized his studies, I wasn't that kind of rigid parent. Kids needed to be well-rounded – academics, arts, sports – to grow up healthy. But Ethan didn't move. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, lowering his head. "Mom," he whispered, "can I have some money? We were thinking of grabbing dinner together later…" I was already thrilled about his grades, so I didn't think anything of it. I readily pulled a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and handed it to him. Ethan visibly relaxed, took the money happily, and left with his friends. The parent-teacher conference didn't last too long, but afterwards, a few other parents invited me out to eat, wanting tips on raising a successful son. By the time dinner was over, it was already dark. I took a cab home. Seeing the house completely dark reminded me that my husband was out of town on business, and Ethan was out with friends. No wonder it felt so empty and cold tonight. I didn't dwell on it and flipped on the lights. The sight that greeted me almost gave me a heart attack. Penny was curled up on the sofa in her dirty school uniform, staring at me. Her dark eyes were completely still, unblinking. She looked vacant, almost creepy in the dim light. My heart stopped, then a wave of inexplicable rage washed over me. "Penny Miller, what the hell is wrong with you! Are you trying to scare me to death, lurking here like a cat?" I stormed over, yanked her off the sofa, and started yelling, pointing right in her face. "Do you have any idea your teacher called me again today? All about your terrible grades! You are embarrassing me to death!" "Why can't you be more like your brother? I'm not asking you to be number one! I'd be grateful if you just weren't dead last for once!" "I don't know what I did to deserve this, how I could have produced such a stupid kid." I was furious, my blood boiling. But Penny just stood there like a wooden doll, staring at me wide-eyed. Only after I finished yelling did she finally utter a sound. "Mommy… I'm hungry…" "Hungry? What right do you have to be hungry! Look at your grades! Do you even deserve to eat?!" I shot her a hateful glare and slammed my bedroom door shut. I truly couldn't understand it. My husband and I were both college professors. Intellectually, genetically, there shouldn't be any issues. How could we have a daughter like Penny, a simpleton who couldn't even follow a conversation? Because of her, I had to endure those parents' mockery today. If I had known she'd turn out like this, I never would have had her. 3. The next morning, Penny left early for school, backpack already on. She was in 8th grade, with standardized tests coming up, so she had to go in early for study hall every morning. My husband and I were too busy with work to make her breakfast. We just loaded up her school lunch account and let her eat all three meals there. Ethan, on the other hand, had a more flexible schedule. I'd take him out for breakfast on my way to work, then drop him off at his school. It fit perfectly into my routine. But maybe because I went to bed so late last night, I woke up late this morning. I slapped the alarm off on my phone, forcing myself to sit up. My head was pounding. I looked into the living room; Ethan was already dressed and sitting there, reviewing his notes. "Honey, Mommy's not feeling too well today. Here's some money, can you take a cab to school and grab breakfast on the way?" "Did you have fun with your friends yesterday? You got back really late. Try to be home earlier next time, okay? Don't make Mommy worry." Seeing Ethan nod obediently, I quickly grabbed his backpack for him. Then I reached for my purse by the door, fumbling inside for some cash. As my fingers touched the inner pocket where I kept small bills, I froze. It was empty. Completely empty. I refused to believe it. I pulled the purse off the hook, turning it inside out, searching frantically. "That can't be right," I muttered. "I know I put the change from grocery shopping in here…" "Ethan, did you touch Mommy's purse?" "N-no. No, I didn't." His eyes flickered for a second, but I didn't pay much attention. Then he added, "I saw Penny looking through stuff yesterday when I got home. Mom, maybe… maybe she took it?" My movements stopped abruptly. My brow furrowed, a seed of suspicion taking root. My husband was out of town. It was just me, Ethan, and Penny in the house. I knew Ethan; he would never take money without asking. That left only one possibility. I thought Penny was just slow, maybe a bit simple. I never imagined she'd start stealing from us. Stealing pennies today, gold bars tomorrow. This wasn't about intelligence anymore; this was about character. Utterly rotten. What would she become? My expression turned icy. But Ethan was going to be late, so I pushed it aside for the moment. I pulled a fresh hundred-dollar bill from my wallet, pressed it into his hand, and put him in a cab. All day long, I rehearsed what I would say, how I would handle this. How could I teach Penny a lesson, make her understand the gravity of her mistake? My daughter being slow was embarrassing enough. I absolutely would not allow her to become a degenerate, a leech on society. When Penny got home from school, I told Ethan to go to his room and study. I sat on the sofa, waiting for her, forcing myself to stay calm. She came in wearing the same dirty school uniform as yesterday. I frowned, annoyed. "Where have you been playing? You're covered in mud again." "N-nowhere. We… we had P.E. today." She took off her jacket, stammering out an explanation. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my anger in check. I pointed to the sofa. "Come here. Mom needs to ask you something." Penny looked confused but sat down beside me obediently. Her pretty face stared blankly at me. I kept my voice gentle. "Tell Mommy the truth. Did you take the money from my purse?" Penny immediately shook her head like crazy, waving her hands frantically. "No! I… I didn't take it!" I knew she'd deny it. "But Ethan saw you going through my purse yesterday," I said patiently. "Mommy isn't going to punish you. If you can admit your mistake, that means you're an honest girl, and Mommy will forgive you." "I didn't… didn't take your money!" Suddenly, she bristled like a cornered hedgehog. "Wh-what proof do you have? I just didn't!" She abruptly turned and started shouting towards Ethan's room, looking like she wanted to charge in there and attack him. "When? When did you see me take money!" Ethan, who had just peeked his head out, jumped back startled by her outburst, retreating like a quail. "What are you yelling about? Do you want the neighbors to come over and see what a spectacle you're making?" "What did your brother say that was wrong? I'll find out soon enough if you stole it or not!" Seeing Penny still defiant, my dislike for her intensified, boiling over until I finally lost all patience. I snatched her backpack and dumped everything out onto the floor. A few crumpled dollar bills fluttered down, silently confirming my suspicions. I laughed coldly. "You didn't take it? Then where did this money come from?" "I thought maybe you just made a mistake, went down the wrong path for a moment. I wanted to give you a chance to confess. But you just keep lying!" "This isn't about being slow anymore! This is about your morals! You're morally bankrupt! You're a shameless little thief! You're going to end up as trash, a burden on society!" Penny stood frozen, tears streaming down her face. "You dare to cry? You steal from your own family, and now you have the nerve to cry?" I couldn't stand seeing her like this. Her stutter already made communication difficult, and now tears made it impossible. Rage surged through me. I grabbed her arm hard, shaking her. "What is there to cry about? I should never have given birth to you! Why don't you just drop dead!" 4. That evening, Penny didn't eat dinner. She just stayed huddled in her room, refusing to come out. My husband got back from his trip and sensed the strange atmosphere in the house. "What's wrong?" he asked me quietly. "Did Penny bomb another test?" "Hmph! If only it were just bad grades!" I slammed the lesson plans I was holding onto the table, furious. "Your daughter! Your precious daughter, Penny! She's started stealing money now!" "Stealing money?" My husband looked startled, surprised. "What happened?" "The cash I keep in my purse for groceries went missing. I thought maybe I'd misplaced it, but Ethan saw Penny rummaging through my bag that night. Today, I checked her backpack, and sure enough, there was money inside." "Ethan saw her?" My husband glanced towards the living room where Ethan was watching TV. He sighed. "That doesn't necessarily mean Penny took it, does it? Did you check serial numbers? Mark the bills?" Unlike me, my husband always felt that Penny, being naturally slower and having a stutter, needed more care and attention than our bright son. He tended to favor her more. I knew his leanings. I shot him a glare, indignant. "Don't try to twist things! Who else could it have been? Ethan never lies! She's just trouble!" "The cash you mentioned…" My husband paused, then suddenly seemed to remember something. He slapped his forehead. "Was it in that black purse? The one you usually take grocery shopping?" I nodded, confused. "Yeah, why?" "Then you've misunderstood Penny. I took that cash." He sighed, looking resigned. "I was rushing to the airport that day, and my phone was dead. I grabbed the small bills from your purse for cab fare." "Are you serious?" I eyed him suspiciously. "Then why didn't you say so earlier?" "I just didn't think of it until now. But you really did accuse Penny wrongly this time. Think about it – finding money in her bag doesn't prove anything. What if it was her own allowance she'd saved up?" My husband nudged me gently with his elbow, reminding me. "You need to apologize to Penny, properly. You really hurt her feelings, yelling like that when she was innocent. The poor kid must be heartbroken." "Penny might not be as sharp as Ethan, but she's a good kid. Didn't you used to say daughters are the sweet ones, the little comforts?" He continued gently, trying to soothe me. "You forgot, didn't you? Tomorrow's your birthday – your actual birthday, not the lunar one. Remember last year? Because you said winter winds were harsh, Penny saved her allowance all year to buy you that scarf. Maybe this money was for your birthday too." His words jolted my memory. It was true. I always focused on my lunar birthday, often forgetting the Gregorian one. But Penny… she always quietly prepared a gift for me every year. Most of my energy went into Ethan. I knew exactly how much he ate for every meal. But Penny? I paid so little attention to her, I'd completely forgotten these small, important details. "She's probably asleep now. Tomorrow. I'll talk to her tomorrow." I turned away awkwardly. The image of Penny's tear-streaked face flashed in my mind, and a pang of guilt surfaced. I was good at lecturing kids, but apologizing? This was new territory. I didn't even know how to start. I silently decided I'd make her favorite meal tomorrow, try to make up for wrongly accusing her. With that plan, I went to the market the next day and picked out the freshest seafood and meat. I spent the afternoon cooking Penny's favorites: shrimp scampi and sweet and sour pork ribs. My husband, hoping to mend the rift between us and celebrate my birthday, had already ordered a cake. We sat at home, full of anticipation, waiting for Penny and Ethan to come home. But time passed, and neither of them appeared. "What's going on? School should have been out ages ago." I checked the clock, just about to call the school, when the sound of the front door unlocking startled us. Ethan walked in alone, backpack slung over one shoulder. His face was pale, like he was scared of something. "Ethan, where's your sister?" My husband looked past him towards the empty doorway, his face hardening. "Didn't I tell you to walk home with your sister today?" he asked sharply. Ethan's eyes darted away for a second. "I… I didn't see her," he stammered. "So I just came home." "Maybe she went off with friends. You know how girls like to browse stationery shops after school. Don't take it out on Ethan." I bristled at my husband's tone, about to defend Ethan further, when my cell phone suddenly rang with an unfamiliar number. "Hello, yes, am I speaking to Penny Miller's parent?" "Yes, this is she. What is it?" There was a slight pause on the other end. Then, the voice said softly, "This is the City Police Department. We found Penny Miller's body in the alley near Westwood Middle School earlier this afternoon. We need you to come down to the station."
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