Chapter 2

Chelsea's POV

Yara's medical records filled two folders, while mine consisted of a mere seven pages. And Mom and Dad hadn't even given those seven pages a proper look.

At 11:00 pm, they finally removed my breathing tube. My throat was burning. I took a tiny sip of water before uttering my first words, "Don't call them anymore."

The nurse carefully adjusted my blanket and said, "You're still underage. Your guardians need to cooperate with your ongoing medical care."

"They aren't coming."

"We've already contacted the hospital's social worker. Do you have any other adult family members?"

I gave them my homeroom teacher, Ms. Lucy Garcia's phone number.

Just as I finished reciting the last two digits, someone pushed open the hospital room door.

Dad walked in wearing the black suit he had worn to the party. A golden boutonniere was still pinned to his chest. Mom and Yara followed behind him. All three of them carried the sweet scent of champagne and cake frosting from the hotel.

Mom walked up to my bedside, but she immediately started scolding me. "Chelsea, do you have any idea how many people were laughing at us tonight? Your father's expression turned grim when he received the call. The party had to end halfway through the cake-cutting."

Dad slammed the hospital bill onto the bedside cabinet. "It cost over 20 thousand for a single resuscitation! What on earth happened to you? How did you lose so much blood?"

I didn't spare the bill a glance. I simply stared at the silver tag against Yara's chest.

Following my gaze, Mom instinctively shielded it with her hand. "It's just a chain. Don't start picking on her the moment you've woken up. That phone call badly shook Yara. Her hands are still cold."

I slowly raised my hand, palm open. I said softly, "Give it back."

Mom frowned. "She hasn't even changed out of her dress. We'll talk about this when we get home."

The doctor stood by the doorway, his voice grave. "If the patient had been wearing this when she passed out, the emergency responders could have started targeted treatment at least 20 minutes earlier."

Even so, Mom didn't take off the silver tag right away. She lowered her head and asked Yara, "Will it mess up your hair?"

I lowered my hand back under the blanket. "Forget it. You don't have to give it back."

From now on, it was no longer something Mom had given me and that I treasured.

…

"Chelsea, sign this. It says you left the hotel on your own this afternoon and that we didn't force you to go."

The next morning, Dad handed me a handwritten statement. He had already signed his name at the bottom.

The hospital's social worker, Natara Thorne, wanted to verify the events leading up to my injury. Dad worried I would mention collecting the commemorative albums, so he drafted this statement overnight.

It claimed that I had left the hotel of my own accord because I was unhappy about Yara's birthday party, and that I had injured myself after falling along the way. It also stated that my family had nothing to do with it.

After reading it, I placed the paper back on the bedside table. I said, "The collection slip is still in my coat pocket."

Dad's hand froze as he was pulling out a chair. "That doesn't prove anything. We only asked you to make a quick trip. How were we supposed to know you weren't feeling well?"

"I told you three times that I was dizzy," I retorted.

Mom was peeling an apple for my sister. Hearing that, she immediately got upset.

"You always say you're dizzy whenever you're unhappy. How were we supposed to know when you were telling the truth? Besides, Yara has always been in poor health. She spent a whole month rehearsing and never once complained about being tired. You've always been healthier than her.

"How were we supposed to know it would turn out this serious?"

It was the same old story. Yara was more frail, while I was the more obedient one. So her discomfort deserved to be anticipated and accommodated, while I had to collapse on the ground before I could prove that I wasn't lying.

Mom held out the peeled apple to Yara, but she refused to take it. "Mom, give it to Chelsea."

I turned my face away.

Mom paused, then placed the apple on the cabinet between our two hospital beds. "She can't eat whatever she wants right now. Don't waste it."

Yara had also been kept in the hospital overnight for observation after being frightened by what happened the night before. There was nothing medically wrong with her, but she was staying in the bed right next to mine, with Mom keeping watch over her all night.