Then back at her stepsister.
“But it's my birthday.”
The neglected child gave a small, sad smile.
“I know.”
The birthday girl opened her mouth.
Then stopped when her mother approached.
The stepmother's eyes moved immediately to the girl in the stained dress.
Her smile vanished.
“What are you doing here?”
The child straightened.
“I was just standing.”
“I can see that.”
The woman looked her up and down.
“Why are you standing beside the cake looking like that?”
The girl swallowed.
“I wanted to wish her happy birthday.”
Several nearby guests became quiet.
The stepmother glanced toward them.
Then laughed lightly.
“Oh, sweetheart. You should have changed first.”
The girl looked down at her dress.
She had asked for something clean that morning.
Her stepmother told her there was nothing suitable.
She had tried washing the dress herself in the bathroom sink, but the old stains would not come out.
“I don't have another one,” she whispered.
The stepmother's smile tightened.
“Don't start making excuses.”
The birthday girl moved forward.
“Mom, she can stand with me.”
The woman glanced toward her own daughter.
“Sweetheart, go wait near the cake.”
“But—”
“Now.”
The birthday girl stopped.
Her expression became uncertain.
The neglected child lowered her head.
She had spent two years learning what happened when someone argued with her stepmother.
She did not want the birthday girl to get into trouble because of her.
So she whispered, “It's okay.”
Then she stepped backward.
Her damaged sneaker caught against the edge of a chair.
She stumbled.
The chair scraped across the polished floor.
Several guests turned.
The stepmother's face hardened.
“Look what you've done!”
The girl quickly reached for the chair.
“I'm sorry.”
“Always making a mess.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Can't you behave properly for one afternoon?”
The little girl's eyes filled.
The birthday girl stepped forward again.
“Mom, it was an accident.”
Her mother turned sharply.
“Stay out of this.”
The room grew quieter.
Then the neglected child bent to straighten the chair.
As she did, the torn sole of her left shoe opened.
Something pale slipped forward beneath the insole.
A corner of yellowed paper.
The stepmother noticed.
Her expression changed.
Only for an instant.
But the girl saw it.
The woman stared at the shoe.
Then at the child's face.
“What is that?”
The girl's heart began pounding.
“Nothing.”
The stepmother stepped closer.
“Show me.”
The child shook her head.
“Please.”
“Don't lie to me.”
She reached toward the girl's shoulder.
The child instinctively stepped back.
“Please don't.”
The stepmother grabbed her arm.
The birthday girl gasped.
Several guests looked toward the commotion.
The woman lowered her voice.
“Give me whatever you're hiding.”
The girl began trembling.
“No.”
For the first time in two years, she refused.
The stepmother stared.
Then her face twisted with anger.
She shoved the child backward.
The girl stumbled against the chair.
Her left sneaker slipped completely off.
And the hidden envelope fell onto the polished wooden floor.