“Stop!” My father pounded the table with his fist, and all the spoons jumped. “Your sister got in trouble at school, Ruth, but at least, at least that’s the only trouble she’s caused.”

“Joseph.” My mom put a hand on his wrist.

“Lottie, she’s the oldest. She needs to take some responsibility, to stop pointing fingers at everyone else. All we’ve had from her the past two years are secrets and lies.”

“What?” I said. “How is this about me? I haven’t broken anyone’s shoulder.”

“You’ve done worse things,” Alex said. If she’d stuck me with a knife, it would have hurt less. There was silence then, with only the whir of the old fridge as it knocked and struggled in the kitchen. Even Mom kept her eyes on her plate, saying not even a word in my defense. I felt more alone than ever. I was back out in that field, with no one to help me home.

“You’re dismissed,” my father said to me. “Not you,” he said to Alex. “You stay right here.”

I slunk to my room. A united front, they watched me go.

By the time Alex was thirteen, she was acting out as if delivering a direct challenge to the universe. Come and get me, she was saying, with that kind of angry glassiness you see in the eyes of players around a Russian roulette table. She was staying out late, going to parties at the raceway on Friday nights, hanging around farm kids who were nowhere near as smart as she was. Dad didn’t know what she was up to. Only I did. I couldn’t stop her—she wouldn’t listen to me. At school, she aced classes without studying, which pleased Mom and Dad. If her marks were good, surely everything was fine with her. But she was a pressure cooker. The tension was building up inside her, and no one noticed but me. And then, at fifteen, she got into all that trouble with boys. Her whole world burst. And I was the only one who wasn’t surprised.