If You Only Had 72 Hours to Live
The boys who'd had crushes on me grew cold, fawning all over Hailey instead.
Even my dad and brother started inviting her over more and more, eventually giving her her own room in our house.
And I was stupid enough to think it was a good thing.
I thought Hailey was finally becoming part of my life, that we could be real sisters.
Until the day I overheard her on the phone, a venomous cackle in her voice:
"You have no idea," she cackled, "that idiot Clara actually thinks I'm grateful."
"She lectures me about 'finding my own voice,' as if her little stories are some kind of high art."