Chapter 1I dropped a message in the family chat: "Malibu grad trip—when we leaving?"
Dead air. Twenty-four hours. Nothing.
Then my sister Chloe shows up: EMERGENCY! Concert ticket fund needed!"
Chat blows up. My message? Buried.
Mom and Dad drop $10k instantly. "Buy four tickets. Carter goes too. WHOLE FAMILY."
My brother Carter whines: "Ugh, concerts suck! I want the new iPhone! And I already babysat her in Malibu after her SATs!"
Wait—what?
They already went. Without me. All summer I'd been waiting like an idiot.
"When did you guys—"
Drowned out. Again.
"Fine Carter, new phone. But you're going. Family sticks together."
Except me.
I laughed—sharp, bitter.
Bought a one-way Greyhound to Malibu. After that? Campus. Done.
This family that never answers back?
I'm out.
----
I switched back to the family chat.
Two minutes. 99+ new messages.
Chloe dropped a screenshot, practically screaming: "Got them! Four tickets!"
"I don't care what ANYONE'S doing that day—you're ALL coming!!"
Mom and Dad answered in seconds:
"Done! Cleared everything—awaiting orders from our little princess! ?"
Even Carter threw in: "K."
Everyone answered everyone. Except me.
I stared at my message from yesterday—still sitting there, ignored.
My eyes landed on the group chat name:
"Welcome Jane Home."
They made this three years ago when they brought me back. Said: "Need something? Just ask. We're here."
But when I asked for the wifi password? Nothing.
Which bus to school? Silence.
Their excuse? "We're used to four. Give us time to adjust."
But wasn't I the one adjusting?
Three years. Their "family of four" never had space for me.
Even my name wasn't mine until freshman year. The school made Mom and Dad rush to fix my birth certificate. Grandma couldn't read—she'd just written my baby nickname.
To save time, they picked the most American name they could think of. Something simple. Easy to remember.
Jane.
Plain Jane. Like I was an afterthought.
Carter's message popped up: "KFC tonight?"
Three instant replies: "Yep." "Sure." "Sounds good."
KFC was down the street. Ten minute walk.
I grabbed my stomach, stood up—
Mom's text appeared:
"Taking the kids out for burgers. There's leftovers in the fridge."
I opened it. One bowl of old soup.
Took a picture. Sent it.
Waited thirty minutes. Nothing.
An hour later, the door opened.
Carter walked straight to his room, eyes on his new phone.
Chloe dumped shopping bags everywhere, ran off to try stuff on.
I stayed on the couch.
Mom looked at me, annoyed: "Seriously? Your brother and sister just got back. You can't say hi?"
I glanced at her phone on the table. My throat felt tight.
"You guys didn't say anything about Malibu either."
Mom's face went blank. She looked at Dad.
"Wait—you didn't tell her?"
Dad frowned, like he was trying to remember: "She... didn't come?"
My hand gripped my phone. Loosened. Gripped again.
All summer I waited. Every time I asked about the trip, they said: "Work's crazy. Soon."
Soon meant without me.
I grabbed Mom's phone. Sent her a smiley face.
Five seconds. Ten.
Screen stayed black. Not even a buzz.
But Carter and Chloe's texts? Set to high alert. Ringing, vibrating, flashing.
Mom waved me off: "So you missed it. Whatever. We'll go again."
Dad pointed at me: "Jane, you're the oldest."
"Stop making everything a competition with your brother and sister. It's exhausting."
I looked at them.
"I'm not competing. You promised me."
Score over 1200, you'd take me. The whole family. Nobody left out.
Mom bent down, picked up Chloe's jacket. Brushed it off carefully.
Didn't look at me.
"So what'd you get?"
I froze.
The second scores came out, I sent screenshots. Posted in the group. Even sent it separately.
Dad glanced at me: "Can't answer?"
"With your score? We're being nice by not asking."
Chapter 2
I stared at Chloe's wall—packed with awards, certificates, honor roll crap.
Yeah, I bombed a test once. Dead last.
First month at their school. Everything was new, I was lost, and they hit me with a practice exam.
Parent-teacher night? Mom and Dad looked at me like I'd personally ruined their lives. I thought if I got good grades like Chloe, maybe they'd actually see me.
Then Carter brought home a 30 on his math test.
Dad just signed it with smile.
That's when I got it.
They just didn't want me.
I didn't explain my SAT score. Went back to my "room"—the storage closet they cleared out—and packed.
Train ticket: day after tomorrow. Twenty hours sitting up.
Next day, bought sunscreen and stuff.
Came home. Mom was leaving my room, my suitcase shoved onto the balcony.
"Oh good, you packed. Makes this easy."
"Jane, you're on the couch now."
I stared at her. "Why?"
"Carter needs a gaming room! Your room's perfect!"
Carter popped out, grinning: "You're dorming anyway, right? So like... why waste it?"
My hand crushed the plastic bag, throat burning.
"Where do I stay when I come back?"
Mom tossed my blanket out. "Short visits? Couch. Long ones? Motel nearby."
"Relax. We're not abandoning you."
Like she was doing me a favor. Like I was a guest who wouldn't leave.
I bent down, picked up my acceptance letter from the floor.
Used to think it'd make them love me.
Now it's just my way out.
Doorbell.
Delivery guy brought boxes.
Dad shouted: "Sweetie! Buddy! Photos are here!"
He ripped open the biggest box. Giant family portrait.
No me.
Not like those tiny wallet photos they sent Grandma when I was little.
They'd print the best ones. Hang them up. New one every year.
First year back, I heard they were doing family photos. I couldn't sleep I was so excited.
Next day: "Oh sweetie, we booked months ago. Can't add people now. Next year, we promise!"
Second year, I went.
Prints came. No me.
Turns out after I left, they took more. When picking photos, they didn't order a single one with me in it.
This year? Didn't even tell me they went.
Mom saw me staring, grabbed a photo, shoved it at me.
"There. Happy? You're in this one."
I looked down.
Five people.
Me in my school uniform. Them in matching outfits.
They photoshopped me in—cut me from a class photo, pasted me into theirs.
I looked at the portrait on the wall, then the fake one in my hand.
Whatever.
Walked to the kitchen. Ripped it up. Threw it in the trash.
Chapter 3
I grabbed my blanket and headed for the couch.
Chloe jumped in front of me, blocking my way.
"Uh, no. My friend's crashing here for two nights. I can't have her see you sleeping out here like some homeless person!"
I looked at her. "And?"
Her face went red. "People will think we're like... abusing you or something!"
"So you admit this is screwed up?"
She froze, shot me a death glare, then ran off yelling: "Mom! Dad!"
They came out immediately, already on her side.
"Sweetie's just protecting our reputation, and you're starting drama!"
"Jane, do you even want to be part of this family?"
Three years they left me out. Now when they need me quiet, I'm suddenly "family"?
I looked at Chloe. "Where's your friend sleeping?"
"In my room, duh!"
"So where am I supposed to go?"
Mom didn't even blink: "We'll book you a room."
That's it. That's what I'm worth to them. Less than some random friend of Chloe's.
But you know what? Fine.
"Okay."
I walked to the balcony, grabbed everything, and left.
Train's tomorrow afternoon anyway. I'll check out and go straight to the station. Never coming back.
Mom texted me the hotel info, eyeing my luggage. "Why are you taking all your stuff? It's two nights."
"It looked messy piled up."
Before she could say more, Carter grabbed them both. "Guys! Designer sent the mockups—which gaming setup looks better?"
All four of them crowded around his phone.
I turned around and walked out. The door shut behind me.
It felt like déjà vu.
Three years ago. Same suitcase. Same backpack. Back then, I couldn't wait for my new life. Now I just wanted to disappear.
The hotel was right outside the complex.
I opened the door and got hit with an instant punch of mold. Threw open every window. Didn't help.
Wallpaper was peeling everywhere. It gave me the creeps.
Those hidden camera stories flashed through my head. I started checking—bathroom, shower area.
Found one. Pointed straight at the shower.
My blood went ice cold. That sick, violated feeling crashed over me.
My hands were shaking as I called Mom. Nothing. Called again. Nothing. Third time, she answered.
"Mom, this hotel—there's a camera in the—"
Noise was blasting on her end. Don't think she heard me.
I started to repeat—
"So call the police!"
"Chloe's throwing a party for her friend, honey. I'm kind of in the middle of something."
"Jane, you're eighteen. Handle it."
Click.
That empty dial tone felt like the final nail in the coffin.
It took everything I had to call 911. I couldn't stay inside, so I waited in the hallway.
Longest ten minutes of my life.
The cops came, collected evidence, and took me to the station for a report. By the time I finished signing paperwork, it was almost midnight.
I stared out at the darkness, still shaking inside.
The officer saw it. "You heading home? I can drop you."
I shook my head. That wasn't home. Not anymore.
"Could you... take me to the train station instead?"
