Chapter 2

Alana clutched Biscuit in her arms, sobbing so hard that her whole body shook.

Mom and Dad stood on either side of her, trying to calm her down.

"Don't be scared. Biscuit's okay."

"I got both of you back safely."

At last, Alana smiled through her tears.

No one looked in my direction again. The rescuer had intended to come back for me, but a high-wind and rough-seas warning suddenly came through.

With the rescue boat at risk of capsizing, he had no choice but to take the passengers and the dog back to the dock first.

The sound of the engine faded into the distance.

My hands were covered in cuts, and I no longer had the strength to hold on to anything. When the water rose to my chin, I stopped calling out.

They say that when you're dying, your life flashes before your eyes, showing you the happiest moments you've ever known.

Sure enough, memories began flickering through my mind.

Back then, Alana hadn't been born yet.

No matter how busy Dad was at work, he always showed up at preschool on time so I'd be the first kid picked up.

Mom always had a picture of me as her phone wallpaper, and every post she shared online was about how I was the best daughter in the world.

At night, they'd each hold one of my hands as I fell asleep, always smiling as they told me, "Corinne, you're our most precious girl."

When I was seven, I stayed up for several nights making a hundred wish coupons by hand.

When Mom received them, she pulled me into her arms and covered me with kisses.

Dad couldn't even bring himself to use them. He carefully tucked them into his wallet. "You're such a good girl. How could we possibly ask you for anything more?"

Back then, I never could have imagined that one day, those same coupons would become the very thing they used to make me give in, over and over again.

The night Alana was born, Dad stroked my hair and promised, "It doesn't mean you'll have two fewer people loving you. It means you'll have a little sister who loves you too."

But every time Alana cried, Mom's arms loosened around me one more time.

At first, all I had to give up was Mom's lap. Then it was birthdays, toys, and time with my parents. Eventually, even Mom and Dad became something I was expected to give up.

The summer I turned eight, they took Alana to an island resort for the first time.

I followed them to the door, fighting back tears. "I want to go too."

Mom was putting a sun hat on Alana and didn't even look up. "Your sister isn't very strong. Taking care of two kids would be too much. You can stay with Grandma this time. We promise we'll take you next time."

I stood on the balcony and watched their car disappear down the street.

That was the first time they left me behind, but it wasn't the last.

Every time it happened after that, Mom and Dad had another reason why they had no choice but to put Alana first.

When I was fourteen, I had acute appendicitis. The pain was so bad that I curled up on the floor.

When Mom got the call, she was at Alana's dance competition.

"It's her first time performing onstage. She'll be scared if Dad and I aren't here. You're fourteen already. If your stomach hurts, go to the hospital yourself. Stop trying to get attention every time something important is happening for your sister."

I eventually passed out outside our apartment building. A neighbor called 911 for me.

Mom and Dad didn't arrive until after my surgery, with Alana and the award she'd won.

Mom didn't ask if I was in pain. Instead, the first thing she did was explain to the nurse, "Corinne has always been dramatic. The smallest thing happens, and she expects the whole family to drop everything for her."

Dad held Alana's medal out in front of me. "She spent six months preparing for this competition. As her older sister, you should be happy for her."

I'd just had surgery and could barely sit up, but I forced myself through the pain and congratulated her anyway. Only then did they seem satisfied.

After that, I stopped asking them for help.

When I was sick, I went to the doctor by myself. When it rained, I found my own way home. On my birthday, I stopped waiting for a cake.

And they said, "Corinne is tougher than Alana. We don't have to worry about her."

Every time they abandoned me, they taught me how to survive without them. Then they turned that independence into one more reason never to choose me.

So when Mom invited me on this trip two weeks ago, I was so excited I couldn't sleep all night. She had said over the phone, "This time, the whole family is going. No one gets left behind."

I took time off work and spent my entire bonus booking our flights.

It wasn't until we reached the hotel that I discovered our family suite had two bedrooms. One was for Mom and Dad. The other was for Alana.

I was expected to sleep on a rollaway bed in the living room.

I couldn't help asking why we hadn't booked another room.

Dad's expression immediately darkened. "We bring you on vacation, and you still find something to complain about?"

Mom tried to smooth things over. "The important thing is that we're all here together and having a good time. Do you really have to ruin everyone's vacation over a bedroom?"

For the next few days, I got up early every morning to walk Biscuit. I carried their bags, waited in lines for them, and took their pictures.

When we signed up for a water activity, a staff member asked if I was part of the family.

Alana laughed. "No. She's our housekeeper. She takes care of the dog."

Mom and Dad were standing right there, but neither of them corrected her.

Later, Alana posted one of the pictures I'd taken.

[Family vacation at last. Just the three of us and Biscuit.]

In the photo, Dad had his arm around Mom while Alana stood between them holding Biscuit. I wasn't in it.

But I quietly liked the post anyway.

At least this time, I'd gotten to see the same view they had.