Chapter 1
I was seven years old when I learned that hunger could be used like punishment.
Dad had been gone for three days on a work trip.
Before he left, he kissed the top of my head, knelt in front of me, and said, “Be brave, buddy. I’ll be back Sunday night.”
Then he pressed something small and black into my palm.
It looked like a toy car remote, but it had one tiny red light on the side.
“Keep this in your pocket,” he whispered. “Don’t tell Amanda. Don’t show anyone unless you feel scared or something happens that doesn’t feel right.”
I didn’t understand.
Dad smiled, but his eyes didn’t.
“If you need me to know the truth, this will help.”
Now I sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of instant noodles in front of me.
Plain.
Watery.
No egg.
No meat.
Across from me, Amanda and her daughter Lily had fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, biscuits, and the strawberry lemonade Dad always bought because it was my favorite.
The smell made my stomach hurt.
“Eat your noodles, Ethan,” Amanda said.
She didn’t look at me.
I nodded and picked up my fork.
I had already learned not to ask why.
Asking why made her sigh.
Asking why made her say I was ungrateful.
Asking why made her call Dad and tell him I was being difficult, and when Dad came home, he would look tired and confused and ask me quietly, “Buddy, what happened?”
I never knew how to explain it.
Because Amanda always smiled when he was home.
Lily was six.
She wasn’t mean.
She kept looking at my bowl.
Then she looked at her plate.
“Mom,” she said softly, “why doesn’t Ethan get chicken?”
Amanda’s smile disappeared.
“He has food.”
“But we have lots.”
“Lily, eat your lunch.”
I lowered my head.
I twirled noodles around my fork and pretended I wasn’t hungry.
My stomach growled anyway.
Lily heard.
Her eyes filled with worry.
She picked up one piece of chicken from her plate, walked around the table, and placed it carefully beside my noodles.
“Here, Ethan.”
My throat tightened.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Amanda slammed her fork down so hard both of us jumped.
“Lily.”
My sister froze.
“I told you not to give him your food.”
“But he’s hungry.”
“He has noodles.”
Lily’s little chin trembled.
“Daddy always gives us the same food.”
Amanda stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor.
“Your father isn’t here.”
The room became very quiet.
She reached into my bowl, grabbed the chicken with her fingers, and threw it back onto Lily’s plate.
Then she pointed at me.
“You need to understand something,” she said. “He is not your real brother.”
Lily started crying.
“Yes, he is!”
“Go to your room.”
“No.”
Amanda grabbed Lily’s arm.
Lily yanked away and ran toward the hallway.
Then she stopped.
Her cheeks were wet.
She looked at me.
“Ethan,” she said, “show Mom what Daddy gave you before he left.”
Amanda froze.
My hand went to my pocket.
I felt the small black device.
Dad’s words came back.
If you need me to know the truth, this will help.
I pulled it out slowly.
The tiny red light was blinking.
Amanda’s face went white.
For the first time since Dad left, she looked scared.
May you like
Not angry.
Scared.
