Chapter 1

The year I turned seven, my dad died in a car accident. My mom married her first love, and I became an orphan in my own home.

At our first dinner together, my stepfather, Richard, laid down the new rule. "From tonight on," he said, "everything in this house is fifty-fifty."

I had one spare rib.

Then he looked at me, all of seven years old, and told me I owed him three hundred dollars for the meal.

I glanced at my stepsister, Tiffany, who was happily gnawing on her ribs.

"Tiffany ate ribs too. Why doesn't she have to pay?"

"Because Tiffany is my own flesh and blood," Richard stated, his voice calm. "I love her. She has the privilege of being my real daughter."

My eyes flicked to my mother.

He went on without missing a beat.

"Your mother is my wife. I love her, so she also enjoys certain privileges."

"You share no blood with me. We have no bond. I have no obligation to feed you."

To enforce Richard's family 'go Dutch' system, everything in the house was tagged with a price.

A price list was taped to the refrigerator door.

Apples: $1.00 each.

Milk: $2.00 per carton.

Leftovers: $0.50 per serving.

...

My mom and Tiffany had special privileges.

They could open the fridge whenever they wanted.

I wanted to open the fridge, but I had no money to pay.

Richard's voice was cold.

"No money, and you still expect to eat?"

I stood there,mute.

He pretended to relent. "Fine. We'll put it on your account for now. Then you and Eleanor will sign a personal loan agreement."

"Interest will be charged at a high-risk rate-one-tenth of a percent per day, compounded until you turn eighteen. Once you're an adult with an income, you'll repay every cent."

So I was billed for every watt of electricity, every grain of rice. Even for the vacations Richard and Mom took Tiffany on...

Because of that family 'go Dutch' system, I owed over six hundred thousand dollars I'd even grown up.

To keep the debt from skyrocketing, I lived simply.

I even picked through the trash for Tiffany's old clothes and shoes. Sometimes, I resorted to begging for food on the streets.

One winter, the flu was rampant. I came down with a fever.

The thermometer read almost 104 degrees Fahrenheit. I was burning up, feeling like a literal lump of coal.

Of course, the first thing Richard and Mom did was pull out their ledger. After furiously calculating with a calculator, they printed out a new loan contract.

"Chloe, you can go to the hospital. But you need to understand that medical expenses are a bottomless pit. Registration, blood tests, IV drips-it would easily cost over a thousand dollars."

"Chloe, you and your parents agreed. Family expenses are split. Personal unexpected expenses, like Chloe getting sick with a fever, are self-pay."

But I couldn't afford to pay for myself.

So, I signed another loan agreement with Richard and Mom.

...

Richard and Mom didn't take me to the hospital in the end.

Going to the ER was too expensive, Richard said. A waste of resources.

He drove to the local drugstore and bought a box of fever reducers and some cheap anti-inflammatories.

Total cost: fifteen dollars.

Richard walked into my room with the pills, Mom hovering behind him.

"Chloe, even though you're not my blood, that doesn't mean I don't care. I fronted the cash for this. Plus a five-dollar 'service fee' for my time. Total's fifty."

He set the medicine on my nightstand. Then he held out a piece of paper and a pen.

"Sign the loan agreement first. Once it's signed, you can have the pills."

But I was burning up, my eyes too heavy to open.

"Mom..."

My voice was a ragged whisper.

She turned her face away.

"Just sign it, Chloe. Sign it and take the medicine. You'll feel better."

I fought back the discomfort of the fever, my hand trembling.

I scrawled my name illegibly on the loan agreement.

But the second I finished signing, Tiffany's voice rang out from outside the door.

"Dad! Mom! I cut my finger! It hurts so much!"

Mom sprang up like a coiled spring, rushing to Tiffany in the kitchen.

Her voice was filled with frantic worry and tenderness.

"What happened, my sweetie?"

"Oh no, let Mom see! Is it bleeding? Richard, let's go. Take our sweet baby to the hospital to get it bandaged, get her a tetanus shot! This kind of cut can be minor or serious, we can't risk infection!"

Listening to the sound of Richard hurriedly starting the car outside,

I lay in bed, tears streaming down my face.

I didn't understand.

Why was I burning up with a 104-degree fever, given only fifty dollars' worth of pills, and forced to sign a loan to pay for them?

While Tiffany,with just a shallow cut on her finger, got a free trip to the ER for a tetanus shot?

Tiffany, the family favorite, saw the question in my eyes.

She grinned.

"Because I'm Dad's real daughter. He loves me."

"And your mom loves my dad. So, by extension, she loves me the most!"