The Math of Survival Chapter 2

"Lucas! How many problems have you done?"

My heart stopped. I hung up the phone in a panic.

I was stupid. How could I hope the mom who threw me away would want me back?

Lucas Vance, you've done so many math problems, why are you still so dumb?

By the time I finished, my stomach was cramping so hard it felt like it was twisting into knots.

Dad checked my work with a red pen, problem by problem.

Every time he did this, I felt like I couldn't breathe. Like I was drowning.

Suddenly, Dad smiled. A big, bright smile.

"Good boy! You got them all right! That's my Lucas. Dad knew you were the smart one."

Dad smiled, so I smiled too.

These were the rare happy moments.

"Lucas, tomorrow is your sixth birthday. How about Dad takes you to a fancy restaurant for a big meal?"

"Okay!"

My eyes lit up. Happiness bubbled inside me.

Kids at school always bragged about their birthday cakes. I'd never had one. I was already drooling thinking about it.

That night, even though Dad assigned me another 100 problems as punishment for something small, and even though I was starving and my throat burned, I fell asleep smiling.

The next day, watching Dad stick six candles into a big cake, it finally felt real.

"Lucas, close your eyes and make a wish."

I gazed at him. If only Dad could be this gentle all the time.

I closed my eyes and made my wishes silently.

[First wish: I hope Dad is healthy and happy every day.]

[Second wish: I hope Dad stops making me do math problems.]

When I opened my eyes, Dad’s face had turned cold.

"Lucas, what did you wish for? Tell Dad."

My heart trembled. I whispered, scared, "Dad, the books say if you say it out loud, it won't come true..."

"You dare talk back? Getting brave, huh? Add 100 problems! Do them now! While you eat!"

Whispers erupted from the tables around us. My face burned with shame.

But I didn't dare disobey Dad. I whispered, "I wished for Dad to be healthy and happy."

Dad froze for a second, his voice softening again.

"Blow out the candles."

I took a deep breath, trying to gather enough air to blow them all out at once.

But I hadn't eaten properly in a day and a half. I was weak. I couldn't even get a full breath out. Only three candles flickered and died.

"Why are you always like this?!"

Dad's roar seemed to shake the roof. His eyes were filled with rage and madness. He flipped the cake over, smashing it onto the table.

"You can't even blow out candles like a man! You're acting like a little girl! How are you going to accomplish anything when you grow up?"

"Add 500 problems! Start writing now! You don't leave until you finish!"

I couldn't hold back the tears.

Looking at Dad, I hated myself.

I knew Dad was sick in his heart. I had to do better. I shouldn't worry him.

But I was useless. Why couldn't I do even the smallest thing right?

If I was gone, Dad would be happy, wouldn't he?

I pulled out the workbook Dad made me carry everywhere.

People started gathering around, whispering.

A kind-looking grandma stepped forward. "Sir, it's the child's birthday. Is this really necessary? 500 math problems? When will he finish?"

"Yeah," someone else added. "Kids have it hard enough. Look at him shaking from hunger. Let him eat something!"

Dad exploded. He screamed hysterically at them.

"This is my son! How I teach him is none of your business!"

"What's 500 problems? If he can't handle a little hardship, he'll never amount to anything!"

"If you want your kids to be losers, go home and raise losers! Don't tell me how to raise my son! He's going to bring glory to our ancestors!"

"You! You're hopeless!"

Dad scared them all away.

He looked at me coldly. "Cry, cry, all you know is crying. Just like a little girl. Add another 100 problems. Finish them or you don't leave!"

Dad went to the bathroom.

I knew he went to smoke after yelling at me. He was probably frustrated that I was such a disappointment.

The area around me cleared out.

"Is this guy trying to dine and dash?"

"Haha, probably putting on a show so he can steal the AC."

I wanted to defend Dad, but a man in a black suit walked up to me.

"Master Lucas, please allow me to take a strand of your hair."