Chapter 1Bus pulled up. Same route as always.
The driver caught my eye. "Hey kid, no one picking you up after SATs?"
I shook my head with a smile and slid into my window seat.
My phone lit up. Mom.
"Emma crushed it today. Taking her to Russo's tonight—whole family."
I stared at the words "whole family." Typed back:
"Cool. Home in fifteen."
Those three dots hovered forever. Then:
"Maybe sit this one out, sweetie? We'll celebrate YOUR big day next year. Just us two."
Next year.
Because I got sick as a kid and started school late. Skipped a grade to catch up. Took the exact same SATs as Emma today—but sure, my "big day" is apparently still twelve months away.
I looked down at my test ticket. Should I even bother telling her?
Jake's text popped up.
"Viv. Time to grow up."
"We spent SEVEN YEARS taking care of you. Don't forget."
"Today belongs to Emma. Stop stealing her moment."
"You owe her. And you damn well know why."
My stomach twisted. Here we go—the kidnapping story again.
Because I collapsed at Emma's dance recital when we were seven.
Mom had scooped me up and bolted. When I came to in the ER, her face was a wreck—eyes swollen, mascara streaked.
"They can't find Emma."
"Did you plan this? I finally—FINALLY—show up for your sister, and you pull a stunt like this?"
Three days of hell. Then cops found Emma at some truck stop two states over.
She threw herself into Mom's arms, sobbing like her world had ended.
I shuffled over with Mr. Fluff—my favorite stuffed rabbit—thinking maybe it'd help.
Jake shoved me so hard I hit the doorframe.
"Gonna fake another episode? GET OUT."
That's when it all changed.
Emma became the miracle child. I became the problem.
From that day on, I was invisible.
Even when I got actually sick, they'd roll their eyes.
"You're fine. Stop being dramatic."
"We gave you seven years. Emma deserves the next seven. That's only fair."
The bus jerked to a stop.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and typed back: "K"
Stepped off just as our black SUV rolled past.
Through the tinted window—Emma in some ridiculous frilly princess dress, curled up in Mom's lap, grinning like she'd just won the lottery.
Chapter 2
The house was dead quiet.
A bowl of instant ramen sat on the coffee table.
Next to it, a note.
Made this for you. Eat up.
Derek's handwriting.
Maybe I'd been starved for attention so long that even a bowl of cheap noodles hit different. Made something in my chest crack open.
Because usually when they all went out to eat, I'd be scraping together whatever bread crumbs were left in the pantry.
Mom used to ask what I wanted. "I'll bring you something back, promise."
Every damn time, I'd wait by the door like a puppy. She'd hand over a shopping bag—I'd dig through it finding shoes, a sweater, some random crap from the mall.
"Mom... where's the food?"
She'd look confused. "Oh sweetie, it's like nine PM. Didn't you eat already?"
"We figured you grabbed something."
I peeled the lid back. Noodles were mushy as hell. Overcooked.
Took one bite. Something was off.
Spit it out—little chunks of peanuts floating in the broth.
Everyone knew about my peanut allergy.
What the hell was Derek thinking?
My skin started crawling before I could even process what was happening.
By the time he answered, angry red welts were spreading up my arms like wildfire.
"Yo, what's going on?"
"Derek, did you seriously put peanuts in that ramen? You know I'm allergic!"
Silence. "Uh, yeah obviously I know. Why would I do that?"
Before I could get another word out, Emma's voice cut in.
"Oh my GOD Vivian, what is your problem?!"
"Every single time we go out without you, you pull some stunt to drag Mom and Dad back home. When YOU were sick, did I throw tantrums? NO."
"Emma, I'm not faking—"
I dug my nails into my arm trying not to scratch. "There were actual peanuts in the food. I'm breaking out right now."
"Right, because you couldn't SEE the giant chunks floating around? Or wait, let me guess—you ate them on purpose just to blow up my night!"
"Derek, this is what you get for being nice. Told you not to waste your food on my psycho sister."
"Now she's trying to frame you for attempted murder or whatever."
Derek came back on. His voice could've frozen hell over.
"Yeah, my bad. Should've poured that crap straight down the garbage disposal."
"Total waste."
Click.
And just like that, it clicked for me too.
He didn't make that ramen for me.
He'd just poured the hot water when Emma texted him about dinner. Didn't want to waste it, so he left his trash for the family ghost to deal with.
I sat there like a statue. Pulled up Mom's contact.
Mom I'm having a bad reaction. Can you take me to urgent care?
Sent a photo of my arms—red, swollen, covered in hives. Just in case she thought I was bullshitting.
Thirty seconds:
Vivian are you really using AI photo editors to fake medical emergencies now?
I tried FaceTiming. Declined instantly.
Texted again: Can you at least send me money for an Uber to the hospital
Message failed to send.
Tried Dad. Blocked.
Jake. Blocked.
Every single person in my family had blocked me—coordinated like some kind of military operation—just so I couldn't ruin Emma's precious celebratory dinner.
My hands fell limp in my lap.
Hot tears streaked down my face and this sick thought wormed its way into my brain:
If I died on this couch tonight... would they even care?
Chapter 3
But I wasn't brave enough to just let it kill me.
No cash on me. So I grabbed the bills by the front door. Five hundred bucks.
Emma's spending money for the week.
Mine? Twenty dollars. Just enough for the bus.
I'd explain later. Tell her I borrowed it. Sisters do that, right?
Got out of urgent care around midnight.
Crept up to the door, stuck my key in. Wouldn't turn.
"Mom! Dad! Let me in!"
I kept knocking. Then Derek's door opened across the hall.
Standing there in his pajamas, looking all smug.
"Jake said you'd do anything for attention. Thought he was full of it."
"Guess not."
I tried to explain about the hospital—
Our door swung open.
All the lights on. Emma curled up on the couch, crying her eyes out.
Mom and Dad staring at me like I'd done something awful. Jake grabbed my arm, yanked me inside.
"So now you're stealing? Great. Just great."
"Wait, no—I didn't have money for the hospital, I needed—"
"I don't care. You took something that wasn't yours. End of story."
Dad's hand slammed the table.
Tears started coming. "I tried to call! You all blocked me!"
I pulled up my sleeve, showed them my arm. Still covered in red bumps. Pulled out the pill bottle and hospital papers.
They looked at the papers. Their faces changed a little.
"That's still Emma's money—"
I looked down. "I know. I'll pay her back. All of it."
My eyes got watery again. "Sitting there by myself with that needle in my arm... I just kept thinking maybe you'd come."
"Just for a little bit..."
Something changed in Mom's face. She started to get up—
Emma grabbed Mom's hand.
"They were at the hospital with HER every day for seven years. They left me alone all the time. That's not enough?"
Her voice cracked. "I'm just the extra kid nobody really wants."
"Maybe those guys should've just kept me. Then you'd all be happy."
She ran for the door. Jake caught her, held her tight.
"Em, come on—nobody thinks that. Stop."
Derek walked in from the hallway. His voice went cold.
"Vivian. You know exactly what happened."
Everyone looked at me.
"Wait, what? She did this on purpose?"
Derek went straight to the cold bowl of ramen. Stirred it with a spoon.
Little peanut pieces floated up.
"I didn't put peanuts in there."
"Pretty clear someone put them in herself. Knew what would happen. Knew her parents would rush home."
Nobody questioned it. Not one person.
I kept shaking my head, saying "no, I didn't, I swear"—
Pointless.
They already decided who I was years ago. The girl who makes everything about herself.
Derek stood up, looking at me like I'd let him down.
"You used to be such a sweet kid."
Jake laughed—mean and sharp. "She's always been like this. Emma's got a show? Boom. Vivian faints."
"I couldn't help it! There were too many people, I couldn't breathe—"
"Right. There's always a reason."
I stopped talking. What's the point?
They weren't going to listen anyway.
Mom let out this tired breath. Looked at my bedroom door.
"You know, Emma wants more closet space."
"Your room's next to hers."
"We'll knock the wall down. Give her both rooms."
