“Yeah, circumstances that neither Liam or I had anything to do with,” Syd says. “And just like always, we’re supposed to go along with the program, just because you guys say so!” She slams her knife and fork down on the table. “Well, FORGET THAT!” she shouts, pushing her chair back and standing up. “Just because you’re all screwed up, why should Liam and I suffer?”
She storms out of the room, crashes up the stairs, and slams her door so hard it rattles the light fixture.
“Pete, you have to talk to her,” Mom says. “She can’t keep associating with Liam. Not now. Can you imagine what would happen if the press got wind of it?”
I remember the look on Syd’s face when I saw her and Liam together earlier.
My sister and Liam are friends, but they’re more than that. And even though I’m jealous, even though what she has highlights everything that I lost when Christian turned on me and I found out he wasn’t real, I don’t want that taken from her.
“No,” I say suddenly. “Syd’s right.”
My parents stare at me. You’d think I’d suddenly grown a third head. Maybe I have, and this time I finally got one with a working brain.
This whole thing has been so messed up for everyone — for me, for Mom, for Dad, for Syd. Maybe until now, until I admitted to missing Christian today, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own misery, how much I am hurting, that it was the only thing I could see. Christian may have been fake, but one thing he said about me was true: I’m not a good friend.
Thinking back, I can start to see what he meant. I don’t want to, but it’s there. Especially with Bree. And it hits me that maybe she tried to tell me, but I just wouldn’t listen. Like, there was this one night when we were in eighth grade, I got back from a really bad day at the therapist, and I was complaining to Bree about how I hated school, my parents, and basically my entire life. She didn’t say anything while I cried about my awful day and even more awful life.
When I finally stopped, she said, “It sucks that you’re going through all this, Lara, but did you ever think of asking me how my day went?”
At the time, I just got mad. I thought she didn’t care about me, that she just didn’t understand how bad things were. I was so upset I hung up on her. But now I realize that Bree had a point, the same one that Syd made at dinner. I’ve been wrapped up in my own pain for so long, I haven’t paid much attention to anyone else’s. Even the people who care about me the most … or those who used to.
But I can start to change that tonight, right here, right now, by standing up for my sister. Maybe that can be my way of starting to move forward, the way trying to make a new law is for Mom.
“It’s not Liam’s fault,” I say. “He’s a victim, too. Like me. Like Syd. You can’t blame him for what Bree did. Or what his mom did.”
Mom and Dad exchange a glance. Apparently it means that Dad should do the talking.
“We know that, honey,” Dad says. “But it’s a complex situation.”
“What’s so complex about Liam and Syd wanting to stay friends? They really like each other.”
Mom looks at me sharply. “You mean ‘like’ as in … a crush?” she asks.
“Maybe. Or maybe just friends. I don’t know.”
Mom shakes her head, rubbing her temple. “This is all I need. The visuals of my daughter dating the son of the woman who cyberbullied you while I’m calling for legislation to make it a criminal offense …”
And that’s when I can’t take it for another minute longer.
“Visuals? Do you even hear yourself, Mom? We’re your daughters, not props for your political photo ops!”
“That’s not what I meant, I —”
But I don’t stay around to hear her explanation of what she meant. I’m already halfway up the stairs. I’m going to talk to Sydney, to apologize for ratting her out and to see if I can make it up to her, somehow.
Even if I can’t make up for the past, I can try to do better in the future.
I’VE GOT my headphones on, and I’m blasting music that matches the beat of all the angry words in my head. Now I know why people punch walls and things. Not that I’d do that, because I can imagine how much it would hurt, plus my parents would freak if I damaged the wall — or my hand. But I’ve got so much mad I’m not sure the four walls of my room can contain it, and maybe punching a hole in the wall would let it out.
Or maybe I could climb to the top of a really tall mountain and just scream and scream until I lost my voice. The problem is, despite its name, Lake Hills is pretty flat. It should be called Lake Hillslope. Or Lake Mounds. Hills is really stretching it.
Whatever you call this place, my life in it is unfair, and I’m so sick of it. And just when I had something good happen in all the awfulness, guess who ruined it, as usual? Lara, of course. Because that’s what she does. I’m starting to wonder if her goal in life is to ruin mine.
The music’s turned up so loud, I don’t hear her come in, so when she touches me to get my attention, I shout in surprise.
“Jeez, Lara, did you ever hear of knocking?” I say, pulling the headphones out and pausing the music.
“I did knock. But you didn’t hear me.” Lara gestures to the headphones.
She has a point.
“What do you want?” I ask, unwilling to concede anything because I’m so mad at her.
“I just … Can I sit down?” she asks.
“I guess,” I agree, reluctantly sliding over, but only a little so she has to perch on a little corner at the end of the bed.
“Syd … I just … I want to say I’m sorry. Really sorry. For … everything.”
I’m not sure I can believe what I’m hearing. My older sister is apologizing to me?
“Uh … what do you mean?”
She looks at me, confused. “Um … what I said. That I’m sorry.”
What is she sorry for? For ratting me out to Mom and Dad? For trying to kill herself? For making me miss auditions for Beauty and the Beast? For the fact that everything ends up being about her in this house?
“Wait … did Mom tell you to do this?”
“What?” Lara seems genuinely surprised I asked. “Why would you even think that?” she asks, her cheeks flushing.
I shrug. “Maybe because the only times you’ve ever apologized to me in my life are when Mom’s made you?”
Lara flinches, and her eyes glaze with tears.
I wonder if she’s going to turn and run, or do that thing she does where she disappears into Lara Land.
But she doesn’t. She lifts her chin and says, “Well, she didn’t make me this time. I decided to do it myself. I wanted to do it.”
And then she takes my reluctant hand and squeezes, hard, until I look her in the eye. When I do, she repeats, “I’m sorry, Syd. For everything. I mean it. I know things have been hard for you because of me. I’m sorry.”
Who are you and what have you done with Lara?
“I hope someday I can make it up to you,” Lara says.
A tear traces its way down her cheek.
And I feel like she just punched a hole in the wall for me, but with her words instead of her fist, because the anger inside me begins to escape.
I say, “Thanks,” and I sit up and hug her.
My sister has said “I’m sorry” to me so many times, but this time is the one that matters most. This time, she means it.