Chapter 2

I turned toward the wall covered in Avery's awards and certificates.

It was true that I'd once ranked dead last.

That had been on my first mock exam after I moved in with the Ashfords and transferred to a new school.

Everything was unfamiliar. The school, the environment, even the pace of the classes was completely different from what I'd been used to.

Before I'd had a chance to adjust, that first exam knocked me flat. At the parent-teacher conference, the disappointment in Mom and Dad's eyes became all the motivation I needed to start fighting my way up the rankings.

I thought that if I became as accomplished as Avery, maybe the things I said would finally matter to them.

Then one day, Clarence came home with a 30 on his math test and casually asked Mom and Dad to sign it.

That was when I finally understood that they could come up with a thousand excuses for ignoring someone, but every excuse was only there to hide the fact that I simply wasn't loved.

I didn't bother defending my exam score. Instead, I quietly returned to my cramped bedroom, which had been converted from a storage room, and started packing.

My train left the day after tomorrow. I hadn't been able to get a sleeper cabin, which meant I'd have to spend the entire 20-hour trip sitting upright.

The next day, I went out to buy sunscreen and a few other things I needed for the trip.

When I came home, Mom happened to be walking out of my room, and my suitcase had already been pushed onto the balcony.

"Good thing you already packed everything," she said. "That saved us a lot of trouble. Clary, you'll have to sleep on the couch for the next few days."

I stared at her in confusion. "Why?"

"Because I'm turning your room into a gaming room!"

Clarence happily poked his head out of his bedroom. "You're going to be living in the dorms once college starts anyway. It'd be a waste to leave the room sitting empty."

My fingers tightened around the plastic shopping bag in my hand, and my throat went dry.

"Then where am I supposed to sleep when I come home for breaks?"

Mom emerged with my comforter in her arms and tossed it onto the balcony with the rest of my belongings.

"If it's just a short break, you can sleep on the couch or use an air mattress. If you're home for longer, we'll book you a hotel nearby. Don't worry. It's not like we're going to leave you with nowhere to stay."

Once she'd said it, she visibly relaxed. It was as though she'd finally figured out what to do with a guest who had overstayed her welcome.

I bent down and picked up the college acceptance letter that had fallen onto the floor.

Before, it had only been another bargaining chip I could use to get their attention, but now it felt like the only lifeline I had left.

The doorbell rang behind me.

A delivery guy made several trips inside, stacking packages in the living room.

Dad called out excitedly, "Avery! Clarence! Come look. The framed pictures and photo albums are here!"

The largest package contained an enormous family portrait meant to hang on the wall.

Once again, I wasn't in it.

When I was little and still lived with Grandma, the Ashfords used to send us copies of their family portraits.

Every year, they picked their favorite picture, enlarged it, and hung it in the living room. And every year, they replaced it with a new one every year.

During my first year back, I heard them talking about taking another family portrait. I was so excited that I barely slept the night before.

The next day, however, they told me the photography package had already been booked, and there was no way to add another person, so I could be in the pictures the following year.

By the second year, I finally got to take the family pictures with them. But when the framed portrait and albums arrived, I still wasn't in any of them.

That was when I learned that after I'd left the studio that day, the four of them had taken an entirely separate set of pictures.

When it came time to choose which photos to print, they hadn't selected a single one that included me.

This year, I hadn't even known they'd gone for family pictures.

Mom noticed me staring silently at the new portrait and pulled out another photo before shoving it into my hand.

"Alright, don't sulk. You're in this one."

I looked down.

There were technically five people in the picture. But the four of them were dressed in coordinated outfits, while I stood awkwardly among them in my school uniform.

They had taken me from one of my class pictures and edited me into their family portrait.

I looked at the new portrait hanging on the wall, then back at the picture in my hand.

Suddenly, everything felt pointless.

I turned, walked into the kitchen, tore the picture into pieces, and threw it in the trash.