Over time, her mother taught her that the other girl was difficult.
Ungrateful.
Careless.
Jealous.
The birthday girl heard those words so often that she began repeating them without fully understanding what they meant.
When her stepsister received an old dress instead of a new one, she assumed the girl must have ruined her clothes.
When she was not invited on a shopping trip, she assumed she had misbehaved.
When she was told to stay in the laundry room while guests visited, the birthday girl thought her stepsister preferred being alone.
But small things began troubling her.
The neglected girl stopped laughing.
Stopped asking to play.
Stopped sitting beside her at breakfast.
Sometimes she looked frightened when the stepmother called her name.
And when the birthday girl entered her room unexpectedly, she occasionally found the other child hiding food.
One evening, the birthday girl discovered half a bread roll wrapped in a napkin beneath the bed.
She stared.
“Why do you have that?”
The neglected girl grabbed it.
“Nothing.”
The birthday girl frowned.
“Are you saving it?”
The other child nodded.
“Why?”
A long pause followed.
Then the girl whispered, “Sometimes I get hungry.”
The birthday girl stared.
“There is food downstairs.”
“I know.”
“Then why don't you eat?”
The other child looked toward the door.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then whispered, “Your mom gets mad.”
The birthday girl felt uncomfortable.
She wanted to say that her mother would never be angry because someone was hungry.
But she remembered an afternoon when her stepsister took an apple without asking.
Her mother shouted.
Accused her of stealing.
Made her apologize.
The birthday girl had been standing beside the refrigerator.
She did nothing.
Now, looking at the bread roll hidden beneath the bed, she felt something she had not experienced before.
Guilt.
She sat beside her stepsister.
Then quietly said, “I can bring you something.”
The neglected girl shook her head immediately.
“No.”
“Why?”
“If she finds out, you'll get in trouble.”
The birthday girl considered.
Then whispered, “I don't care.”
Her stepsister looked up.
For a moment, she seemed almost hopeful.
But then she shook her head again.
“Please don't.”
The birthday girl stared.
She did not understand why kindness had become something frightening.
Not yet.
Three days before the party, the birthday girl asked her mother a question.
“Why doesn't she have a nice dress?”
The stepmother was standing in the master bedroom examining jewelry for the celebration.
She looked toward her daughter.
“Who?”
“My stepsister.”
The woman's expression changed.
“What about her?”
“She has that old beige dress.”
The stepmother sighed.
“She ruins everything I buy her.”
The birthday girl frowned.
“Then why don't you give her another one?”
“Because she needs to learn responsibility.”
The child looked toward the enormous white box containing her own pink princess dress.
She hesitated.
“Can she wear one of mine?”
Her mother's face hardened.
“Absolutely not.”
The birthday girl stared.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
The child lowered her eyes.