I wasn’t surprised when Clara rushed into the room with a new dress. Mother always does things like that for her. Clara
swung around and admired herself in it. A crisp, yellow band laced the edges of the dress, and even from a far distance I could tell that it was made out of the finest of fabrics.
“Look what Mother bought me,” Clara smiled as she tried to get my attention. I just kept reading my book and hoped that if I did not look up, she would go away.
“Why can’t you be happy for me for a change? It is my birthday. Don’t I deserve to get something special?” Clara asked as
she got even closer to me. The fact was that everyday seemed to be Clara’s birthday. There are ten years between us.
Clara’s father is my mother’s second husband. He is okay, I guess, but my real father is special to me just as well.