Chapter 4

05.

The living room went dead silent.

Mom recovered first. She let go of my hand as if it had burned her. “Connie, what did you say?”

“I said, I'm not giving it up.”

Blood dripped from Georgette's wrist, splattering on the floor.

She froze completely, forgetting even to cry.

“Right, Connie's right!” Mom's voice shot up. She glanced at Georgette, then turned back to me.

“Even if something really happens to her, don't get involved.”

“What could possibly happen to her?” I lifted my eyes to hers. “That cut on her wrist was made with a fruit knife, wasn't it? There are bandages in the third drawer of the medicine cabinet. She didn't come anywhere near a vein.”

Georgette's head snapped up, a flicker of panic in her eyes.

I stood and said, calmly, “I'm not giving up the spot. I'm going to handle the paperwork tomorrow.”

“And all of you can stop acting. I'm tired just watching it.”

Mom froze for a second, her face cycling through several expressions.

“Connie...”

“I already know. All these years of putting on a show for me, it must have been exhausting.”

“Georgette's face is fake too, isn't it.”

My parents' faces darkened at once, and Georgette caught herself and clapped a hand over the scar on her face.

Mom stepped forward. “We're family. There's no need to draw such hard lines.”

“And she's your sister. What's wrong with giving in to her a little? When did you get so selfish!”

Selfish?

I looked at them and gave a cold laugh.

Competitions, internships, the grad-school recommendation spot. Every time I stepped aside, all I got back was more scheming, endless.

For years I gave everything I could give, and in the end all I got was that one word. Selfish.

“Mom,” I said quietly.

“This jacket I'm wearing, you bought it for me last year. I couldn't bring myself to wear it. I wanted to save the money and buy Georgette a scarf.”

“Those brand-name shoes in my closet, I never put a single pair on my feet. I sold them all to pay for Georgette's tutoring.”

“While I was working outside until my fingers were raw, you were buying her a gold pendant.”

“When you call me selfish, don't you feel even a trace of guilt?”

Mom's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“So who's the selfish one?”

Georgette grabbed my arm. “Connie, I'm begging you, give me the spot. One last time.”

I gently pried her hand off.

“All those times I stepped aside before, what I got back was never anything real from any of you.”

“I'm not making that same mistake again.”

With that I stopped arguing, turned, and went back to my room. Behind me came Georgette's crying and my parents' quarreling.

I ignored all of it and buried myself under the covers.