10

Over the next three weeks, Mom and anyone else who was born when there was snow was being avoided by others who believed the superstition about snow. Mom had more than one moment where she would sit in her room, looking sad. They didn’t last long because she pulled herself together. But she couldn’t rely on Dad because they were fighting. I could only hold her and assure her that the superstition was stupid. I reminded her that she wanted me to be as white as snow because that was how much it meant to her. That cheered her up. But, mostly, she had to rely on her friends. I asked to talk to her, but Mom said that was not a daughter’s job.

Many people all over the kingdom who were born when there was snow were being mistreated

That was just what we needed. It was not enough that ghouls were attacking and killing us. We had to turn on some of our people too.

Mom had gone through this for decades and had learned a long time ago to just ignore it because the people who thought it were not open-minded enough to be convinced by arguments that they were wrong. Mom’s family and friends and most of the people she worked with at the county club didn’t treat her that way. I defended her whenever someone from the neighborhood was mean to her, but it didn’t always work. Sometimes people backed off. Sometimes they argued and Mom told me to ignore them.

The entire time, my parents were fighting. They both looked angry or sad sometimes. They didn’t talk or look happy to see each other. They found happiness with other parts of their lives like me, their friends, careers or hobbies.

“What are you fighting about?” I asked Dad.

“That’s between me and your mother.”

“I want to help.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we can’t tell you about what’s between us. That’s not a daughter’s job. But I appreciate it.”I had never been good at science, which was why I admired Dad and anyone else who understood it and used it well. He was a dedicated doctor. Anytime someone in this family needed to be taken to the hospital, he was on top of it to make sure everything was going well. He was so dedicated he was almost a workaholic, but he could always tell before he was about to neglect his family and avoided doing that.

“What are you doing?” Dad asked me.

“I’m practicing for a concert.”

“Your mother and I loved attending your other concerts.”

“Did you think I was talented? Because I don’t feel like I’m great.”

“Why not?”

“I feel like everybody else is better than me, no matter how great I am,” I confided.

“Honey, you’ve become an expert on how to play the guitar. And all of your instructors said you were talented.”

“Okay, so I’m good.”

“I think you’re better than good, if the last teacher told you you should pursue a career as a musician.”

“But everyone else I come across is better.”

“I really don’t think everyone,” Dad insisted.

“You think?”