Chapter 1

"Liv, do something about your control-freak mother. I seriously can't take her anymore."

Lily grabbed my arm, her eyes red with anger. "Where I go to college is my choice. What gives her the right to change my applications?"

Mom had just followed her out of the bedroom. Her face darkened the moment she heard that.

"I raised you all these years just for you to turn out this ungrateful? Fine. I'm telling you right now. If you apply to a college out of state, I won't give you a dime."

They stood on opposite sides of the living room, glaring at each other, but both turned to me at the same time.

Waiting for me to pick a side.

It had been this way for more than a decade. Whenever they fought, I coaxed Lily into coming home. Whenever Mom got angry, I apologized on Lily's behalf. Once they'd made up, I cleaned whatever they'd knocked around and washed the dishes that had gone cold in the sink.

I was about to step in like I always did when my eyes fell on the hem of Lily's dress.

Tiny white flowers dotted the yellow cotton, and a row of pearl buttons ran along one side of the waist. I recognized every detail. I'd chosen the fabric and matched the buttons myself. Even the square neckline had come from a picture I'd shown Mom on my phone.

A week ago, I'd come home carrying the fabric and, for once, let myself act a little spoiled.

"Mom, my birthday's next week. Will you make me a dress?"

Mom had always been good with her hands. When we were kids, she'd make nearly everything herself, including our socks, backpacks, and even our pillowcases. But most of the bright, beautifully stitched things had belonged to Lily.

My clothes were usually pieced together from whatever scraps Mom had left.

We'd been poor back then, and things only got harder after Dad died. Mom was always telling me, "You're the older sister. Be mature."

So I was.

For years.

I was twenty-six now, with a job of my own, and our family could easily afford a dress. But I still wanted, just once, to wear something Mom had made especially for me.

When I'd asked about it yesterday, she'd said she'd been busy and hadn't finished it yet. I'd even been the one to reassure her.

"It's okay. I can wear something else for my birthday."

Except the dress had been finished.

Mom had simply decided it suited Lily better.

Lily followed my gaze and looked down at herself, tugging awkwardly at the skirt. "Mom said you couldn't wear a color like this to work anyway."

Mom immediately jumped in. "Yellow looks good on Lily because she's young. How old are you now? Why are you fighting with your little sister over a dress?"

Fighting?

I'd bought the fabric. I'd picked out the buttons. Yet somehow, when Mom told the story, I was the one trying to take something that belonged to Lily.

I said nothing.

Apparently taking my silence for surrender, Lily turned toward the entryway and grabbed her shoes.

"I'm filling out my own applications. Nobody gets to tell me where I go."

She ran out, slamming the door hard enough to make it shake.

Mom instinctively took a couple of steps after her, then stopped. She was too proud to chase her.

After glancing at me, she turned back toward her bedroom and deliberately raised her voice before shutting the door.

"Let her go! It'll be dark soon. Let's see where she thinks she can go without this family."

The door closed, and the apartment fell silent.

I went back to the dining table.

Two number candles, a two and a six, stood on top of the six-inch ice cream cake. Three movie tickets were tucked beneath the cake box for the 7:20 pm showing.

I'd finished an entire week's worth of work ahead of time and taken the day off. I'd even made reservations at the restaurant Mom had been talking about for ages.

But that morning, Lily had made a last-minute trip with her classmates to tour a college a few hours away. She'd come home that afternoon only to get into another fight with Mom.

Neither of them remembered why we were supposed to be having dinner together tonight.

I lit the candles.

No one turned off the lights. No one sang "Happy Birthday."

Under the bright lights, the flames looked faint, as though they might go out at any moment.

I cut myself a small slice of cake. I'd barely taken two bites when Mom's bedroom door opened.