My Father's Point-Based Game

To prevent me from being jealous of my stepmother's son, my dad implemented a family point system.

Washing dishes earned 1 point, and getting a perfect score on a test earned 10 points.

Accumulating 1000 points meant you could make a wish come true.

When my stepbrother broke a vase, Dad said it was a sign of good luck and awarded him 50 points.

When I insisted on going to school with a fever, Dad said I was trying to garner sympathy and deducted 100 points.

I scrambled to scrape together every point I could, all for that exorbitant Math Olympiad registration form.

On the day I finally accumulated enough points, my stepbrother cried and said he wanted a pair of limited-edition sneakers.

Dad immediately emptied my points. "We're family. Your points are your brother's points too."

I looked at the torn-up application form and jumped from the 18th-floor balcony.

Chapter 1

A loud crash came from the living room.

I was in my room, grinding away at Olympiad math problems. My hand slipped, and the pen tip drew a long black line across the paper.

I knew that sound all too well.

Last time, when I was washing dishes, I accidentally broke a cheap white plate.

My dad, Gary Mills, deducted 50 points.

The reason: carelessness and damaging public property.

50 points. I would have to get five perfect scores in exams or wash 50 dishes to earn that back.

The living room was dead silent.

I put down my pen and pushed the door open.

The floor was a mess.

That antique vase, Dad's pride and joy, had shattered into pieces.

My stepbrother was stepping on a soccer ball with a nonchalant smirk on his face.

My stepmother, Esther, was crouching on the floor.

"Oh dear, Patrick, how could you be so careless? This is Gary's favorite vase..."

She scolded Patrick, but at the same time, completely shielded him from my father.

Dad stood beside her with a grim face, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

I leaned against the doorframe, feeling a strange sense of schadenfreude.

That vase was supposedly worth thousands of dollars.

According to the "family point system" rules, damaging property resulted in a point deduction equivalent to the property's value.

Patrick's pitiful amount of points wouldn't even cover the cost. It would go into the negatives.

I waited for the show to begin.

Dad took a deep breath, his eyes going back and forth between Patrick and the shards on the floor.

Patrick pouted. "I was just kicking a ball around. The vase wasn't very steady."

I scoffed.

If it were me, I'd have been slapped by now.

Dad glanced at Esther, who was already tearing up, as if they were a pitiful widow and a single child who were about to be bullied.

Dad suddenly smiled.

"It's alright, it's alright."

Dad waved his hand.

"There's an old saying, breaking a vase brings good luck! This will bring good luck to our family!"

I was stunned.

Bring good luck?

Last week, when I broke a plate, he called me a "good-for-nothing".

Dad walked over to the large whiteboard on the wall.

He picked up a whiteboard marker and wrote under Patrick's name.

"Patrick is energetic and brings life to the house. He broke a vase to bring good luck to our family! +50 points!"

I couldn't stand it and rushed out of the room.

"Dad! The plate I broke only cost five bucks, yet you deducted 50 points from me. This vase is worth thousands, and you're giving him points?"

Dad turned around, the smile instantly disappearing from his face.

"How old are you, Myra? Why do you have to make things difficult for your younger brother?"

"It's not making things difficult! It's about your rules!" I pointed to the whiteboard. "You said everyone would be treated equally in the family point system!"

"I'm doing this for the sake of this family's harmony!"

Dad slammed the marker on the table.

"I'm Patrick's stepfather. If I'm too strict with Patrick, people will say I'm abusing him. I'm strict with you because I'm your father and I have high hopes for you! Don't you understand that?"

It was always this same excuse.

To avoid suspicion, for the sake of his reputation, for optics, he treated his own daughter like dirt and his stepson like treasure.

"I can't accept it." I stared intently at that glaring "+50".

Dad snorted and uncapped the pen again.

"Disrespecting elders and talking back."

Under the column "Myra", he wrote: "-20".

"I was going to let things slide, but since you love keeping score so much, let's lay it all out."

He pointed to the previous record on the whiteboard.

"The other day, you had a fever and didn't go to extra classes, so you wasted my money. You admitted it yourself. -100 points."

I opened my mouth, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

That day, I had a 100-degree fever and could barely stand.

But Dad said I was putting on an act to avoid studying.

"Fine."

I lowered my head, my nails digging into my flesh.

"As long as I save up a thousand points, I can exchange it for the Olympiad math class application form, right?"

Dad waved his hand impatiently. "As long as you can do it, I always keep my word."

I turned around and went back to my room.

Behind me, I heard Esther's voice say, "Gary, you're so kind to Patrick. Patrick, hurry up and thank your father."

"Thank you, Dad. You're the best, unlike Myra. She's a miser."

I closed the door, shutting out that room full of disgusting behavior.

I took out the Olympiad math workbook.

Blood from my nose dripped on the pages and formed a crimson flower. I wiped it away nonchalantly.

200 points.

I only needed 200 more points for the application form.

With it, I could join the camp. It would only last a month, but it would allow me to escape this suffocating home.

For this goal, I was willing to put aside my dignity and become a point-earning machine.

Chapter 2

Over the next two weeks, I lived like a servant, eager to do anything that would earn me points.

Waking up early to cook breakfast earned me 2 points. Mopping the floor earned me 2 points. Handwashing all the laundry earned me 5 points.

Even when my period cramp was so painful that I could hardly stand, I still crouched down to scrub the floor.

Cold sweat dripped down my forehead onto the tiles, and I quickly wiped it away. Points would be deducted if I made the floor dirty.

Esther lounged on the couch, snacking on popcorn.

A piece of popcorn dropped down to the floor I just cleaned. She laughed and said, "Oops, my hand slipped."

She smiled at me. "I'm helping you, Myra. If you clean it again, won't you earn another point?"

I remained silent and crawled over to pick up the popcorn. Patrick rushed over and stepped on my hand with his sneaker.

"I'll help too!"

He stepped hard. Dad, who was reading the newspaper nearby, glanced at us. If I retaliated, I would be "bullying my younger brother" and had 50 points deducted. If I cried, I would be "affecting family harmony" and had 30 points deducted.

I pulled my hand back, the skin swollen and red. "Thanks, Patrick." I squeezed the words through clenched teeth.

Dad nodded approvingly. "That's it. Siblings should always help each other."

He awarded me 2 points.

That night, I pieced back together the homework that Patrick tore apart.

I had to hand it in tomorrow, or I would be reprimanded by my teacher.

That would result in a deduction of 20 points at home.

I couldn't afford to lose any more points.

Not even one.

It was soon time for the mid-term exams.

I tried my best to do well.

My hands were shaking when I received my report card.

I was the top student in my grade.

I got a perfect score in every subject.

According to the rules, getting first place earned 100 points, and a perfect score earned an additional 100 points.

Adding the points I had saved up from doing chores day and night for the past two weeks, I had exactly a thousand points.

I clutched the report card and rushed home. The air felt sweet.

When I pushed open the door, my family was gathered around the TV, laughing.

Patrick pointed at an advertisement on TV and shouted, "I want that! I want those shoes!"

They were limited-edition sneakers worn by a certain basketball star. Each pair cost more than $400.

Esther coaxed him. "Those are too expensive. You don't have enough points."

Dad also said with a smile, "Patrick, we have to follow the rules."

I took a deep breath and walked up to Dad.

I gently placed my report card and point book on the coffee table.

"Dad, I'm the top student in my grade."

Dad picked up the report card, glanced at it, and raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

I pushed the point book over to him. "Including the points for this reward, I have exactly one thousand points. Dad, you promised to make my wish come true if I accumulate a thousand points."

Dad set down the newspaper, his gaze dropping to the point book.

"Myra," Dad said slowly, "is this Olympiad math class really that important?"

"Yes, it is." I stared into his eyes. "It's my only wish."

The atmosphere froze for a few seconds.

Dad picked up the pen, ready to sign.

My heart was in my throat.

Suddenly, Patrick threw the remote control hard at the TV screen.

"I want those shoes! I want those shoes! I want them now!"

He lay on the ground, rolling around and crying his heart out.

"Everyone else has them! I'm the only one who doesn't! You don't love me at all, Gary! You're a terrible stepfather!"

The word "stepfather" hit Dad where it hurt.

Dad's face instantly turned red, and the anxiety of maintaining his "good stepfather" reputation flared up again.

Esther wiped away tears and remarked, "Oh, what a poor boy. If his real father was still here..."

Dad suddenly stood up.

He looked at Patrick on the floor, then at the report card on the table.

The application fee for the Olympiad math class was $400, the same price as the shoes.

He picked up the whiteboard eraser and walked to the whiteboard.

My eyes were locked on his hand.

No.

Please, no.

Dad raised the eraser, aiming it at the bright red "1000" under my name.

One swipe.

Two swipes.

Chalk dust fell.

That number that I had earned with blood, sweat, dignity, and countless late nights, disappeared, replaced by a glaring blank space.

"Dad?"

Chapter 3

I rushed forward, gripping his wrist tight. The eraser tumbled to the floor, clattering.

"Why?"

The taste of blood filled my mouth.

"I saved enough... I saved enough, didn't I?!"

Dad shook off my grip and straightened his collar.

"Patrick is really unhappy, you can see that too. As the elder sister, you should give way to your younger brother." He pointed at Patrick still writhing on the floor.

"If you make him happy, the family will be harmonious, and everything will be fine."

I trembled as I held up the crumpled flyer for the Olympiad math class.

"But they're my points! I earned them by washing thousands of dishes and getting first place! What about my wish?"

Dad frowned, looking irritated.

"You're siblings. Your points are your brother's points too! I'm the head of the household, so I have the right to adjust the points."

What a convenient "adjustment."

Esther stopped crying.

She pulled Patrick up, wiped his tears, and said with a smile, "Oh dear, Myra is such a kind elder sister. She really knows how to care for her younger brother. Patrick, hurry up and thank your sister for giving you the points to buy the shoes."

As soon as Patrick heard that, he immediately stopped wailing.

He stuck his tongue out at me and said, "Thanks, points-printing machine!"

I laughed at my own stupidity.

I actually believed that there was fairness in this family.

I thought that as long as I was obedient and worked hard, I could earn a little bit of love.

I slammed that flyer on the table like a madwoman.

"I won't accept this! You have to use the money for my registration fee! Those are the rules! The rules you set!"

Dad was stunned at first, then flew into a rage.

He grabbed the flyer.

"How dare you! How dare you slam the table!"

Riiiip.

The sound was crisp and piercing.

The flyer was torn in half, then into quarters, then into eighths...

Finally, it became a pile of scraps, which he threw in my face.

"In this house, I'm the law! You must have become stupid from studying too much! You're selfish and unwilling to show any family love! Keep this up, and I'll deduct a thousand points! You'll never be in the positive again!"

The paper scraps floated to the floor.

My world went silent.

Dad's shouting, Patrick's cheers, Esther's hypocritical attempts to mediate C they all faded into the distance.

My points, gone.

Fatherly love, gone.

My future, gone.

I stared at my father.

He was still going on and on, talking about "being mature" and "seeing the bigger picture."

I suddenly found him really pathetic.

And disgusting.

"You don't have to deduct the points," I said softly.

Dad didn't hear me clearly. "What did you say?" he asked.

"I said, you don't have to deduct the points."

I turned around and walked to the balcony.

"Where are you going? Come back here and reflect on what you've done! No dinner for you tonight!" Dad yelled behind me.

I wasn't going to have dinner anyway.

I didn't have to wash dishes anymore either.

I didn't have to mop the floor while I'm suffering from period cramps, put up with Patrick's footprints, or listen to Esther's snide remarks anymore.

I didn't have to stare at that accursed whiteboard, calculating how many more points I needed to earn to live like a human being anymore.

The wind on the balcony dried the tears on my face.

It was the 18th floor.

What a beautiful view.

I climbed onto the railing.

Behind me, I heard Patrick scream, "Dad, she's climbing the railing! She's trying to scare us into giving her points!"

Dad snorted. "Ignore her! If she dares, let her jump! Spoiled brat!"

Yeah.

I'm spoiled.

Spoiled by your cold-bloodedness and cruelty.

I didn't need points anymore.

I just wanted to see if a world without points was really free.

I let go.

My body leaned forward.

The wind howled in my ears.

In my next life, I don't want to be anyone's daughter anymore.

And I'm never studying math again, either.

It's too tiring.

BAM!