Chapter 1: No Share for Me

In my house, fairness was the law.

My twin siblings would go to war over the slightest hint of parental favoritism. So everything got split into two equal shares.

One for my brother Derek. One for my sister Vanessa.

I remember asking Mom, in that clueless little-kid voice, where mine was.

She snapped at me.

"We've already got those two at each other's throats. Now you want in on it too?!"

Later, we got a new car.

A seven-seater SUV. Five of us.

The day of our family road trip, a storm came out of nowhere and hammered the ground.

Of the two remaining seats.

One held Vanessa's cat.

One held Derek's dog.

I stood there awkwardly by the door.

Derek shielded his dog, eyes sharp with warning.

Vanessa rolled her eyes.

"My cat sits here. Don't even think about it."

Dad glanced at me, still standing in the driveway, irritation all over his face.

"Don't you have something else to do?"

I was shivering from the cold. I lifted my chin and gave him a smile.

"I do. I'm not going."

I turned around, emailed my advisor, and accepted the full-ride scholarship from that Canadian university.

If the fairness I'd been waiting twenty years for wasn't coming.

Then I didn't need to stay put anymore.

***

By the time I walked home alone, I was soaked through.

My phone buzzed as I stepped inside. A text from Mom. Asking how I planned to feed myself for the next few days, alone in the house.

An ache flared in my chest before I could stop it. My vision blurred at the edges.

But before I could say a word, her next message landed.

"The fridge is stocked for Derek and Vanessa. We bought for two. Figure it out yourself. Don't call to complain. We have to take care of your brother and sister first."

Whatever fragile warmth had stirred in my chest died right there.

The reflex was still there. I almost typed, What about me?

In the end, my thumb tapped out just two letters. "Okay."

I'd asked that question a thousand times before.

No one ever cared.

It was like some unspoken rule. Nothing in this house was ever meant to include a share for me.

I pocketed my phone and searched the kitchen. All I found was a box of cereal that had been sitting there God knows how long. Opened it. Clumped solid with moisture.

I finally fell asleep, cold and hungry. Woke up in the middle of the night to something wet and heavy slapping across my face.

I jolted upright, stunned.

The lights were on outside. The living room was chaos.

Mom and Dad were complaining about the highway closure that turned them back. The storm, they said.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, arms crossed, glaring at me.

"Are you deaf? Or just stupid? I said wash this."

Her jacket was caked with mud. She'd dumped it on my head. My hair still had that sticky, wet-dog feeling.

I could barely keep my eyes open. I forced the words out. "Vanessa, let me sleep. I'll wash it first thing in the morning. Please."

Vanessa's voice shot up. "So you just don't want to. You're making excuses!"

Derek appeared then. Face blank. He dropped a pair of mud-caked shoes on the floor.

"Wash hers, wash mine. Don't drag it out."

Mom walked past, arms full of laundry. She took in the sight of me, bedraggled and dripping.

Her brow furrowed. What came out of her mouth was pure rebuke.

"We've got three kids in this house. We value fairness. Your brother and sister have been on the road all day. You've been here, taking it easy. What's the problem with you washing a couple of things?"

Looking at that room full of accusing stares, I almost laughed. So fairness in this house was a selective concept.

When it came to dividing things up, Derek and Vanessa got the fairness. When it came to carrying burdens, that was when fairness finally landed on me.

I didn't waste another breath. I crouched in silence, gathered the filthy clothes, and went to the laundry room.

Three or four hours later, I was done. Black spots swam across my vision.

The warning sign before my blood sugar crashed.

I dragged myself to the kitchen for warm water and walked straight into Dad coming through the door with bags of takeout.

He saw me. His first instinct was to hide the bags behind his back.

A stiff smile flickered across his face.

"The portions split clean into four. So we didn't call you. If it didn't divide evenly, Derek and Vanessa would have started up again."

"But they threw in some onion rings. Those two don't like them."

I smiled and sidestepped his outstretched hand. "Dad. I'm allergic to peanuts."

Dad froze. Just for a second.

Then Vanessa's voice called out in that wheedling, baby-doll tone, and he answered her, brushing past me without another word.

As he walked away, I couldn't help it. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. My heart seized like someone had driven a needle through it.

I didn't even have the energy to cry.

After the water, the shaking eased. I went back down to the basement, to the army cot crammed in the corner of the laundry room, just wanting to rest.

What I found was a storage room for Derek and Vanessa's unpacked luggage.