Then, she glanced my way and said, “Lucky you! Off to the Browns’ place. Don’t forget to scout some decent guys for your sister. Skip nobodies like Anthony. She’s college-bound and deserves a guy with power, like the Commander!”
My parents always put my sister first when it came to the good stuff.
As for me? Two words—not worthy.
Just because my birth was a three-day ordeal that nearly ended in disaster, I was branded the family curse—the bringer of bad luck.
Whenever my sister gave me a hard time, our parents saw it as payback.
Then, by shipping off their curse—me—they could scrape together some college money for my sister.
They figured it was a fair trade, so they rushed to tell the representative of the Brown family to double the wedding gift, sealing the deal.
The representative agreed, but not without an eye roll.
As she left, I caught her snide whisper.
“Making a mountain out of a molehill over a simple favor!”
