Amber Fleck
For as long as I can remember, I know I'm nothing more than a stand-in for my deceased older sister, Jenna Lockwood.
The day before starting elementary school, Mom and Dad take me to buy a backpack.
With a wide smile, Mom asks me, "Blue or red—which one do you want?"
When I choose blue, Mom's expression changes instantly.
She clamps her hands onto my shoulders and screams hysterically at me, "Why didn't you choose red? Jenna would only ever choose red!"
Dad slaps me right across the face when he sees that Mom is having another episode. The blood running from my nose is a glaring, bright red.
From then on, I don't dare to pick anything except the red items Jenna would have liked.
Once, while playing with my classmates, some glue gets stuck in my braid, so my teacher kindly cuts it off for me.
But when Mom comes to pick me up, she completely loses it. "Jenna has long hair. You're not my daughter!"
She shoves me off the back of the bike, and I run after her, crying. It takes me half an hour to get home.
To avoid triggering Mom any further, I begin imitating Jenna in every way.
It's not until after the SATs, and I get named top scorer, that Mom demands I apply to a vocational college near our home.
"Jenna was accepted to this same college back then. You have to go!"
My teacher calls to reason with her, but Mom shuts her down with a few sentences.
"If Jenna hadn't died, Jennifer would never have even been born. She wouldn't have had the chance to be the top scorer at all!"
As I watch her spiral into hysterics, I suddenly feel that everything is meaningless.
Since I have to imitate Jenna in every way, then I have to ensure I meet the same ending she had at 18—death by drowning.