Chapter 2

The year Drew got into college, Dad rewarded him with a brand-new laptop. When Hannah placed first in her grade in elementary school, Mom took her to an amusement park and bought her an expensive dress.

I had won things too, back then. I placed second in an essay competition, got top marks on my piano exam, and finished in the top ten in my whole school on my entrance exams.

But no matter what I brought home, all my parents ever did was nod and say, "Not bad," or "Don't let it go to your head."

I always thought it meant I wasn't good enough yet, that I had to come in first, had to be the best, before I deserved even a word of praise.

But now, I understood. Hannah could earn a reward just by going to the hospital. She didn't need to beat anyone or prove anything. All she had to do was say she felt bad, and everyone rushed to comfort her.

It wasn't that I wasn't good enough. I just wasn't loved enough.

The thought hit me like a bucket of ice water. I didn't want to watch anymore. Every second I stood there felt like ripping apart every lie I had ever told myself to feel better.

I turned to go back to my room, but I barely made it two steps before Mom called after me.

"Claire, don't just sit around while you're home. Make your sister some soup and brew her some calming tea. She won't have much of an appetite when she gets back, so keep it light."

She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, not a request but an expectation.

I looked at her, my throat dry and raw from my own fever. For some reason, I didn't want to just nod and go along with it the way I always had.

"I don't feel well either. I don't want to."

Mom froze, like she hadn't expected me to say no. Her brows furrowed. "What's wrong with you now?"

That one word "now" hit me right in the chest. I hardly ever asked them for anything, but the moment I said I wasn't feeling well, they acted like I was being dramatic.

I clenched my fists and forced myself to speak. "I had a fever yesterday too. I texted you about it, and you told me to go buy medicine myself. So why is it that when it's Hannah, all of you have to take her to the hospital?"

The living room went dead quiet.

Drew was the first to react, his expression darkening. "Claire, do you really have to throw a tantrum right now? Hannah has a fever, and you're standing here keeping score?"

Mom's face hardened. "I asked you to make soup, not move mountains. You're her older sister. What's wrong with looking after her?"

I stared at her, my chest so tight it hurt. There it was again, the sister card.

My whole life, whenever Hannah wanted something, they told me I was the older sister and I should give in. Whenever I felt hurt, they told me I was the older sister and I should be the bigger person.

But when I was sick, did any of them stop to think that I was their daughter too, that I was Drew's little sister?

My voice came out hoarse. "So when I was sick, who was there for me?"

Mom's lips parted like she was about to lecture me, but Drew spoke first. "Alright, we didn't pay attention this time. Next time you're sick, we'll take you to the hospital too. Happy now?"

Every word out of his mouth had that placating tone people use on someone being unreasonable.

"Hannah still has a fever, so stop making this harder than it needs to be. Just get the soup started and brew some tea. That way, it'll be ready for her by the time we're back."

Then, he turned to Mom. "Let's go. Dad's waiting downstairs. We don't want to hold up Hannah's appointment."

Mom glanced at me one last time. There was no sympathy in that look, only blame.

They ushered Hannah out the door, and the moment it shut behind them, the apartment went completely still. I stood alone in the living room, and the cold settled in all at once.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Drew.

"Don't forget the soup."

"And stop starting things. This family doesn't need your drama."

I stared at the screen for a long time.