She squeezed me tight, and I stiffened, putting up with her phony embrace for half a second before wiggling away. The hills beyond the veranda were cast in misty blues and greens that day, and a tranquil breeze wafted over me, putting me on edge. They set the scene to manipulate my emotions, to keep me calm, but I held on to my anger.

“How did it feel to be a movie star?” Dad asked, standing long enough to ruffle my hair and pull out a chair so I could join them.

“You know how it feels to be a movie star,” I said, settling onto the edge of my seat. “It’s boring.”

“Boring? We sent off a little girl and got back a teenager.” Mom laughed.

“I was a teenager when I left,” I said. “Maybe I’m a grownup, now.”

“Don’t grow up too fast,” Dad said. “An actress’s career is short-lived—stay young as long as you can.”

I frowned.

“Your father is joking, sweetheart. You’ve got plenty of good years ahead of you.”

“No, he’s not.” I glared at them until they shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Speaking of teenagers, we should talk about your birthday,” Mom changed the subject. “We already have tons of sponsors. It’s going to set you up perfectly. Between the party and the movie, your numbers will be fine.”

“I don’t want a birthday party.”

“But your friends are expecting a huge event!” Mom said.

“What friends?” I spat the word. “I don’t have any friends. What happened to breaking ties with everyone at Intersection?”

Mom kept talking like she hadn’t heard me. “It’s going to be spectacular—a party no one will miss—”

“Everyone will miss it! I don’t care about rankings, and I don’t want a party.” I was practically screaming, and still she refused to hear me.

“—Framboise has agreed to sponsor your cake—”

“Too bad,” Dad hissed, a vein popping in his forehead. “Your rankings are in the toilet, and we’re not going to let you drag us down with you. You will have a party, and you will make it look like you love it.”

“You can’t make me go.” I stood, my limbs rigid with adrenaline. “If I’m poison, if I’m no longer useful to you, write me out of your lives like you would a bad guy in a script. Stop building me up to be someone I’m not. We’d all be better off if I’d never been born—or if I was dead. Maybe you’ll miss me when I’m gone.” Having said more than I’d intended, I turned on my heel and ran upstairs to my bedroom. I slammed the door behind me and threw myself on my bed, the tears coming hot and fast.

Mom knocked on the door a minute later. “Can I come in?”