2: 2

I turned and went back to my room.

Room was a generous word for it. Really it was just a corner someone had walled off on the balcony.

My phone buzzed. Rodney had posted something in the family group chat.

Photo after photo, dozens of them.

All Millicent.

Millicent asleep on the plane with a line of drool at her mouth, Millicent halfway through her makeup, glaring at him not to shoot.

My eyes drifted, without my meaning them to, toward the photo on my nightstand.

It was from the first day of freshman year, me feeding a stray cat by the back gate of campus. Rodney had caught it without me noticing.

I'll always remember he was holding that same photo the day he confessed to me.

"I'm a landscape photographer. I never shoot people."

"But from now on, I'll shoot portraits for you, and only you."

Except after he met Millicent, he photographed me less and less.

Even though the camera he still used was the one I'd saved up for a long time to buy him right out of college.

I asked him once whether it was because I was too dull, not as cute or sweet-tongued as Millicent.

At first he corrected me seriously. "I'm only good to her because of you."

Later she was the one who said it: "Blanche, you're so uptight. You should learn from Milly, loosen up a little."

But I'd told him. I'd told him clearly.

Before I turned ten, I was fearless too. Afraid of nothing.

I knew how to be playful, how to coax people, how to charm.

It was after Millicent came that I changed.

The time I scored a perfect mark, my mother snatched my report card and tore it in half.

"What are you doing, bringing this home to rub it in Milly's face?"

I stood my ground. "There are plenty of people in this world who do well in school. Does that mean she can't go on living?"

That was the first time my mother slapped me.

"How can you be so vicious? She has no parents to look after her. For her to be doing this well is already a lot."

"Do you really have to compete with her?"

That night I cried half the night on the couch.

Millicent lifted her chin at me, smug, before she went into her room.

I knew that if I fought her, our parents would only dislike me more.

So all I could do was go quieter and quieter.

I thought that way I could win back the parents who had doted on me before I was ten.

But in the end they said it about me anyway:

"Doesn't fit in."

"Bad temperament."

Until I met Rodney.

I felt like I'd found the self I'd been before ten again.

In front of him, I could cry, I could laugh.

I could ask for things the way I had as a child.

I worked up the courage to bring him home to meet my parents.

They liked him a lot, and because of him they even started treating me a little better.

But the more often he came to the house,

the closer he got with Millicent.

Somewhere along the way,

I became the invisible one at home again.

The four of them would be talking and laughing in the living room, and the moment I walked in,

they'd all fall silent at once.

As if my existence itself was the awkward thing.

I tagged Rodney in the group chat. "Do you still remember what you said the day you confessed to me?"

A second ago the four of them had been trading comments on the photos.

Now it went dead quiet.

See. I really am the one who ruins the mood.

Rodney sent me a private message.

"Are you upset?"

"How could I not remember? I said I'd shoot portraits for you."

"But when I shoot Milly, that's for you too. She's your sister."

I took the photo out of the frame and tore it, piece by piece.

For my sake, he was good to her.

For my sake, my father was good to her.

Everyone had their reasons.

The only person no one ever asked about was me.

Fine. Then from now on, I'll be good to myself.

The living room door slammed shut.

Along with my mother's voice: "Don't call her. Every single day it's some drama with her."

"Like the world owes her something."

My father called out, "We're leaving."

Soon the footsteps faded past the door.

A moment later Rodney sent another message:

"Blanche, your parents just called us. They're really unhappy."

"You've put Milly in a terrible mood too."

"When they get there, give them a call and apologize. Don't let this spoil the wedding."

I let out a short laugh.

If the people who worked under me at my company could see me like this,

their jaws would hit the floor.

Ms. Donaldson, decisive and ruthless, the one who never wavers, could actually be this indecisive, letting herself be pushed around this far.

But I knew it was because I still cared.

The moment I stopped caring, I'd turn back into the Blanche Donaldson everyone knew at work.

I slid my finger across the screen and blocked Rodney without a second's hesitation.

3: 3

The next morning at work, I messaged the wedding venue coordinator and canceled every booking.

Then I unlinked the house's water, power, and gas from my phone.

I wasn't going to touch the house they lived in. Call it repayment for all those years of raising me.

But the wedding and the household bills, I wasn't paying for any of it anymore.

I'd barely finished when Millicent called.

Her voice was frantic.

"Blanche, Mom's got altitude sickness, she's in the hospital!"

"The doctor says she probably won't make it, hurry up and get here!"

Then she hung up.

The sun was on me, and it still felt cold.

I remembered my last car accident, my mother beside me, gripping my hand and crying until her eyes were swollen red.

I rushed straight to the airport.

My phone was on airplane mode, and the whole way there I kept thinking.

What if I turned it back on to bad news about her.

And if not, how fast could I get her transferred to a bigger hospital.

I even made a list of doctor friends on my phone.

So I could reach out for help the second I landed.

But when I got to the hospital entrance, Millicent's call came through again.

"Blanche, Mom's much better, she's been discharged. Come to the wedding venue."

I pushed down the doubt in my chest.

And still I went.

The spot I'd chosen myself, beneath the snow-capped mountains, in a bed of pink roses.

Millicent was wearing the wedding dress I'd had custom-made, her arm looped through Rodney's.

My parents sat in the family seats, watching them with a look of contentment.

For a moment every drop of blood in me ran cold.

When my father saw me, he said nothing. My mother let out a scoff and turned her face away.

I gripped my bag and walked toward Rodney, one step at a time.

"You checked the location on my phone?"

He'd installed that tracker last year, after I was followed, because he was afraid something would happen to me.

If not for today, I'd have almost forgotten it existed.

"Otherwise how would Millicent know the exact moment I reached the hospital?"

"You played me, along with them?"

Before Rodney could answer.

Millicent grabbed my hand, her eyes red.

"Blanche, I know you've had a falling-out with Mom and Dad and Rodney."

"I only wanted things to ease up between you."

"The wedding's the day after tomorrow. I just wanted to see our family happy together."

Her eyes were innocent, her voice pleading.

But I still pulled my arm free of her grip and stepped back.

"Out of everyone here, you're the only one who isn't family."

Her tears spilled over at once.

Even her crying made you want to pity her.

My mother shoved me aside, and my father glared at me, brows drawn tight.

Rodney was angry too.

"Blanche, that was out of line."

"Apologize to Milly, now!"

It came to me suddenly, the videos I'd seen online of people up north guarding a lost child, three of them standing in a triangle.

Ready to rush forward and protect the kid at any second.

Now the three people closest to me were standing exactly like that.

Braced against me.

But this time my heart didn't hurt.

I just turned and walked.

"Blanche!" my mother called.

My steps paused.

"Before you go, settle the balance!"

"They said you never paid the remainder. Were you waiting for us to cover it for you?"

"How can you be so calculating?"

I turned back, and the last thread of hope in me faded.

"Calculating? I bought the house, I paid the bills, and every month I transfer you eight thousand for living expenses."

"And Millicent? She sits at home living off you two, and you call me calculating?"

"Enough!" my father roared.

I knew him. He always sat back and watched the fight play out.

Only when my mother was losing would he step in.

"We raised you all these years. You owe us your gratitude!"

I clenched my fists.

"Fine. Keep that house for your retirement, then. Call it buying out all those years of raising me."

With that I turned around again.

Rodney's voice shook a little.

"Blanche, you're not going through with the wedding tomorrow?"

I met his eyes.

"Rodney, from the day you had her rehearse in my place, I never planned to go through with it."

"Let's end it here!"

As I left, the staff stopped them about the unpaid balance.

No matter how they called after me, I didn't look back.

4: 4

There were no flights back that day, so I checked into a bed-and-breakfast.

I wasn't answering my phone, so they could only tag me in the family group chat.

Rodney:

"I checked your location. You're still in Colorado."

"I've already paid the balance on the wedding. Just show up tomorrow and be the bride."

My father smoothed it over:

"Blanche, stop making a scene. Whatever's upsetting you, we'll talk after the wedding."

My mother's voice message was a lot more direct.

"Can you not be so willful and turn the whole family upside down?"

"Milly's just a young girl who loves pretty things and dreams about weddings, so she wanted to try it out."

"You're the older sister. Do you really have to be this petty?"

I left the family group chat right then.

Went out, bought a new phone, and threw the old one away, tracker and all.

I had dinner at the bed-and-breakfast.

The owner was chatty.

She gave me a glass of hard cider on the house.

"Miss, we've got a local legend around here. Watch the sunrise over Emerald Lake and good luck will come to you."

I nodded.

The sweet cider carried a trace of bitterness, then turned sweet again.

The next morning I bundled up in a long coat, got up early, and claimed a spot in the front row.

The water of Emerald Lake was right at my feet.

The sun rose off the surface, gulls wheeled on the wind, and everyone around me broke into cheers.

I heard a familiar voice too.

I turned, and my eyes met Millicent's.

I turned to leave.

Using the crowd for cover, she reached out and shoved.

I was falling backward, straight toward the water.

In that instant I grabbed her, and we went down together.

The last thing I saw was the panicked faces of my parents and Rodney.

Their mouths all shaped the same word at once: "Milly."

After the staff fished us out.

I was still coughing.

Millicent already had the strength to accuse me.

"Sis, why did you drag me into the water on purpose?"

I hadn't even finished coughing when my mother rushed up and slapped me.

"You animal, how could you hurt Milly!"

"Why don't you just go die!"

My father was gutted too: "Blanche, could you possibly be any more vicious!"

They weren't looking at me like a daughter. They were looking at me like an enemy.

Rodney stepped in front of me.

"Uncle, Aunt, I'm sure Blanche didn't do it on purpose."

I looked up at him. His shadow fell right over my head, throwing a patch of shade.

He turned back to me, his face all worry.

"Blanche, apologize, now!"

My coughing finally stopped.

"Third time," I said.

"What?"

"That's the third time you've told me to apologize, Rodney. Three strikes."

Just then someone in the crowd said timidly: "I saw it just now. She really did pull that girl into the water."

I got to my feet and spat out two words: "Call the police."

"Weren't you saying I hurt her? Call the police. Let the law decide."

A flicker of panic crossed Millicent's eyes, then quickly settled.

"Sis, you think I'm lying?"

"There are no cameras anywhere around here. What good is calling the police?"

So she'd already checked that there were no cameras nearby.

Rodney gripped my shoulder.

"Blanche, stop it. Haven't you embarrassed us enough!"

I'd been out of the water this long, and not one of them had asked if I was all right.

But Millicent had all three of their jackets draped over her.

I just found it darkly funny.

The staff, though, had called the police long ago.

When the officers questioned us, I handed them the personal camera I wore around my neck.

"Please check how I actually fell in. It should all be recorded."

Millicent's face went white in an instant, and the next second she came at me screaming, grabbing for it.

"Impossible! You definitely set me up on purpose!"

"Mom, Dad, Rodney, grab it and smash it, quick!"

The more she panicked, the worse the looks on Rodney's and my parents' faces got.

I took the towel a kind stranger handed me.

Turned and looked back at them.

"See you at the station."