Hunger

By Lillian Kwok

We spend that sum­mer with our dad in Reykjavik. My sis­ter is nine and wants to spend
all her time with me, but I want to bike along the water alone, look for sea­glass and
dead sea ani­mals with­out her. So she cries and dad becomes cross. My sis­ter gets
Sat­ur­day candy but not me. To pun­ish him I refuse to eat lunch and din­ner. But my
father, the old­est of nine broth­ers and sis­ters, knows a thing or two about hunger and
is not afraid of me. When­ever I want to starve, he lets me starve.

Originally published in Mascara Review.

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