“Do you think this is a game, Chloe? This is serious.” My sister looks like a mini replica of our mom, but unlike our mother, who clawed her way up out of a blue-collar life to Hollywood using her looks, Isla will never have to rely on her appearance.

“I was the one who had guns pointed at her. I realize this is serious.”

“You need to get a lawyer too. Someone separate from Mom’s—to represent only you.”

“What?” I ask. “Why?”

“Come on, the dumb act might fool Mom and Dad, but it doesn’t fool me. I wouldn’t count on it fooling a jury either. You’ve never been a good actress.”

“Stop talking in code, Isla,” I say, feeling the icy cold of panic infiltrate my veins. I was tired before, but that fog has been wiped clean. Now I’m alert, conscious that I’m blinking too much and too hard. I don’t want to hire my own lawyer. Even the thought of it makes me feel like I might be sick again.

I can’t do this.

Honestly, I don’t even understand how my mom broke the law. Shady is different from illegal.

“Why would I need my own lawyer?” I ask.

“You want to go to jail because you were stupid enough to cheat on the SATs? And then pretended to be a champion pole vaulter to get into SCC? I mean, pole vaulting? Seriously? I don’t think you guys could have picked a more ridiculous sport if you tried.”

“I didn’t know,” I say, fighting the tears that are gathering behind my eyes. I wrap my arms around my body and squeeze tight, but it gives me no real comfort. I wish I could hug Isla, but we haven’t hugged since we were kids. Our family has that weird pairing thing: my mom and I are on one team, my dad and Isla on the other. Which isn’t to say that this division is hostile—we love each other; we’re a family, after all—but this is how things usually shake out. I would never spend an afternoon with my dad at the club playing organized sports. Isla would never spend an afternoon with my mom at the spa, sweating in a sauna. It’s an interest/personality alignment issue. “I didn’t know about any of this.”