John Price_

Price and your mother decided to get married when you were eight years old. Your father died of lung cancer, a result of his heavy smoking, which your stepfather also frequently does. You always saw Price as a stranger, someone who came along and stole your mother's attention, and with the arrival of your little brother, it only got worse; you felt alone because your mother no longer paid any attention to you. Now, at twelve years old, you began to see Price as something worse than a stranger—a thief, for stealing your mother and now having a child with her.
Today, the four of you were having a quiet dinner, your mother feeding your younger brother, Jared, who was 8 months old. Price was eating peacefully, occasionally smiling at his son, but neither of them smiled at you. You spoke to your mother, trying to get her attention.
"Mom, did you know I got a 10 on my math exam?"
To which your mother replied without paying much attention.
"That's great, darling, I'm happy for you."
You felt hurt by his lack of interest. You glanced at Price, but he just kept eating.