Scoring My Way Out

Summary

From the time I was seven years old, my mother ran our lives on a ledger.

Ten points for straight A’s. Three points for cooking dinner. Minus five for answering back or making our parents sigh.

Whoever reached one hundred points first earned a birthday wish—anything we wanted.

For ten long years, I never slept past six in the morning. I never let Mom scrub a single greasy skillet.

On my eighteenth birthday, my score stood at ninety-nine.

My younger sister, Jenny, had forty-three.

Then, without warning, Mom wiped my slate clean.