Part 2The Forgotten One in the Frame

I glanced down at the pomegranate rinds filling my hands, and a laugh escaped me. I tossed them into the trash, pulled out my phone, and booked a train ticket to Pravia for three days later.

Mom was right. I'd never liked theme parks. But it wasn't the noise that bothered me. It was the fact that my entire family had once left me behind at one.

I was seven years old when Mom took us to a theme park. Before we went inside, she'd reminded us over and over to stay close to the grown-ups and behave.

I did as I was told and held on to her hand. But as soon as we entered the park, Mitchell spotted the parade and took off into the crowd.

Mom rushed after him, and I stumbled as she pulled me along. Then, her hand slipped from mine, and the crowd swallowed me up.

I sat there sobbing until a park employee finally found me and took me to a waiting room. They kept making announcements over the loudspeaker, but no one came for me.

Mom didn't come back for me until evening, when she finally showed up with Mitchell beside her.

One of the employees frowned at her. "We've been calling for you over the loudspeaker for hours. Why didn't you come get your son?"

"I've got three kids, and they're all such a handful," Mom replied with an apologetic smile. "I can't keep an eye on everyone.

"Besides, you've got air conditioning and people here to look after the kids. I figured he'd be fine staying here."

On the way home, Mom bought me some ice cream to make up for it.

Meredith and Mitchell chattered excitedly about all the rides they'd been on that day. As they went on, I watched the fireworks light up the sky outside the car window, the ice cream tasting bitter on my tongue.

"Mom, look! Do these look good on me?"

Mitchell's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. A pair of gold-rimmed, nonprescription glasses rested on his nose, making his features look even more delicate.

The sales assistants gathered around him, showering him with compliments.

Mom, on the other hand, couldn't stop smiling.

The pair cost over a thousand dollars, and Mitchell didn't even need glasses. Still, she bought them for him without a second thought.

When she turned to me, her brows drew together. "Maxwell, I told you not to pick out such expensive frames."

My hands stilled on the frames, then I put them back. Instead, I went over to the plastic frames and grabbed the first pair I saw.

This time, Lavinia frowned. "Why did you pick those? They're so bulky and ugly. Try another pair."

I pressed my lips together. Ever since we'd walked into the store, they'd found something wrong with every pair I'd picked out.

They'd just told Mitchell how good one pair looked on him. But when I tried on those same glasses, suddenly they looked plain and awkward.

One sales assistant stood nearby with a tray in her hands, wearing a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Just then, Mitchell yawned and leaned against Meredith's shoulder. "Max, are you done yet? I'm so tired."

Meredith glanced at her phone and said, "We've been here for three hours. We should head home."

With that, Mom took the receipt, put an arm around Mitchell, and headed for the door without looking back.

"Maxwell, your brother's tired. I'll send you the money for your glasses when we get home. You can go pick out a pair yourself before school starts."

I simply replied, "Okay."

But I knew better than to expect the money to ever show up. After all, this had happened countless times before.

Things Mom had promised to buy me would turn into promises of sending me the money later, and then I'd never hear another word about it.

At least I only had one more day left at the café. From now on, I could buy the things I wanted with my own money.

…

The next day, I went to work as usual. With school out for the summer, the café was swamped with orders.

I'd barely taken two bites of my lunch when another customer walked in. "Welcome! What—"

I looked up, and my eyes met Mitchell's.

He looked surprised. "Max? What are you doing working here? Don't tell me you've already blown through the allowance Mom gave you again."

The word "again" hit a nerve. Mom hadn't given me any money in three months.

The last time she'd sent me anything, it had been less than 300 dollars. Even if I'd lived on the cheapest food I could find, it still wouldn't have been enough to last three months.

When I got so hungry that I couldn't take it anymore, I finally asked Mom for more money. But she chewed me out.

"Why can't you be more like Mitchell? You get the same amount he does, but he's never complained that it's not enough."

Of course Mitchell never complained. Mom visited him every week, treating him to meals and buying him new clothes.

On top of that, Meredith sent him money from time to time, as if he might otherwise go hungry.

Yet none of them ever stopped to think about how much it cost to feed myself. Even the cheapest meals at school added up to at least 20 dollars a day. How was I supposed to make 300 dollars in the last three months?

If it hadn't been for my part-time job and scholarship, I would've starved by now.

One of my coworkers noticed how upset I looked and stepped in to take the order.

I stood off to one side, listening as Mitchell and a group of classmates talked over one another about this year's SAT.

One of them said, "I heard the top scorer in the area goes to Central High School. And apparently, it's a guy.

"Mitch, doesn't your brother go there? Does he know who it is?"

At that, Mitchell glanced at me. Then, he replied evenly, "He didn't even score high enough to get into college. How would he know who the top student is?"