I put on a polite smile and asked what time our flight was scheduled to depart.
Dad looked straight at me with a perfectly cold expression.
“You do not need to know the departure time because you are not coming with us. You can stay behind right here and take care of all the kids while we are gone.”
A few relatives actually chuckled at his cruel statement.
Madison leaned back in her chair with a smug look on her face. “Come on Harper since you hate sandy beaches anyway.”
“I just hate being treated like unpaid labor by the people who are supposed to love me,” I replied calmly.
Mother let her smile sharpen into something much more hostile. “Please do not embarrass us tonight in front of everyone.”
I looked down at the piece of paper she had just pushed toward my dinner plate. It contained eight specific names of children ranging in age from four through twelve.
