Opal's P.O.V

I hate my life. It's horrible. Everyone hates me. It's my birthday today, and no one knows-I'm six, practically a grown-up, but no one even noticed. Well, Harry noticed, but he just gave me six slaps on the face, for 'growing up.'

"Mother," I say, entering the kitchen.

She whips around and hits me. "Go away, Opal. It's the boy's birthday, I need to make a cake."

She thinks it's one of the boys birthday's. Harry's fourteenth, or Jack's twelfth, or Robbie's tenth, or Dan's eighth. Not mine, of course. I never get anything. She doesn't know whose birthday, just presumes it's a boy, not mine.

I walk off, making sure I don't slouch, cry, or do anything else that could earn me a slap. Father meets me in the hall.

"What are you doing, Pearl? Go on, get cleaning. It's Dan's birthday, stupid."

Pearl. He doesn't even know my name. I'm just the cleaner-girl. Gr. It's my birthday, that's not fair.

"Father, I'm Opal, not Pearl. And-"

He hits me, making my lip bleed. "I said, go clean. Go clean the filth like you. It's my son's birthday, and I don't have time to run around after a worthless idiot like you."

I storm off in tears. Dan's birthday, not mine. Filth, worthless, idiot. I'd get revenge.