“Then in the car on the way there, the energy between them changed. They argued the entire drive. It started in hushed voices, but grew to the crescendo it usually did … Dad was threatening to drive us home. Mom was screaming to let her out on the side of the highway…” She trails off. “It was always like that. Nothing fun came without some sort of blowback.” Jamie’s voice gets quiet. “Dad only talks about Mom now to lay down burns, drive home a negative comment, or offhandedly insult me.” She looks down at her empty stick.

A fresh batch of tears wells up in my eyes. Because Mom hates Dad too. And I hate it. And I can’t help but hate him with her. And I hate that we all hate each other. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

I can’t believe Dad took Jamie and Mom let it happen.

I want to love my family. I want to laugh and smile with them. I want to have people who love me unconditionally, who I trust and turn to when my emotions swallow me up. But the only person I’ve really trusted for a while now is Papa, and now that’s ruined too. He was in on this Jamie lie.

I already thought Dad was a jerk. But how could Mom do this?

How could she do this to me? She’s late and she’s distracted and she’s flaky for everything that isn’t work, but she’s an amazing choreographer, and an epic ballerina, and she’s patient when I’m a gluteus maximus trench. She’s weirdly obsessed with the Game of Thrones books and dresses me up every year and drags me along to the fan conference, and I make like I’m too cool for it, but I secretly love that she brings me with her and not George and Gill, just me.

How can she be the same person who let my sister be dragged across the country and then lied to me about her very existence? How can the woman who made watching So You Think You Can Dance every Thursday a religion be the same person who legitimately made me believe I couldn’t trust my own mind?

I love her. I want to be her. Wanted. I wanted to be her.

I lower myself onto the grass and lie on my back. “I need to tap out, Jamie.”

Jamie scoots closer. “I can see that. Good talk. I’ll see you in a few days, sis.” She grabs my white-sneakered foot and squeezes it before rolling to her feet. “Good luck with the rediscovering.”

PART 2

Pitch and Switch

26. A Girl Is Playing the Long Game

JAMIE

September 3, Thursday Morning

Colorado

“I have to meet Siri in ten minutes.”