She expected—what? Tears, perhaps? Mostly from her mother, and maybe from Adelaide.

What broke the silence was a single laugh, like a cannonball.

Sadie’s face was venomous, and when she spoke, her tone matched. “You’re so selfish, Greta. Sorry Owl Island doesn’t have enough drag bars for you or whatever. Just your family.”

“Damn, Sadie, it’s not about that! PS,” Greta added, voice sharp, “your stereotypes could really use some work.”

Maggie stifled a snort with her fist.

“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why you care so much if I stay here?” Greta asked, squaring her shoulders. “You don’t even like me.”

“Oh, what, like you’re a big fan of mine?” Sadie retorted.

Before Greta could reply, her mother chimed in. “Greta, you’ve had your adventure. Now it’s time to come back home. Let me make you a plate.”

Nell moved to the table where Greta now noticed a place setting for her was already laid.

“No thank you,” Greta said. “I ate.”

“Honey,” Greta’s father said. “Have you really felt like you had to do things you didn’t want to go along with the family? We always wanted you to be who you are. All of you.” He looked around at his daughters, and the guilt scratched at Greta’s gut.

She looked at her sisters. Sadie looked scornful, but not as scornful as she usually did. Tillie looked sad. Adelaide’s eyes were narrowed as if she too were confused. Maggie winked exaggeratedly and gave her a tiny thumbs-up. But her father looked shocked, drained. Her mother was working hard not to look at anyone.

“Am I, like, delusional right now?” Greta said. “Please someone tell me this isn’t in my head, because I’m freaking out.”

Maggie rolled her eyes at the silent room. “It’s not in your head, dude! Come on, guys.” She looked around the dining room table. “You know what she means. Sure, there was never, like, a you-do-this-or-else, but it was always just easier if we all agreed ’cause there’re so many of us that we knew it could only ever be one thing. So if everyone wanted ice cream but you wanted cake, you knew it would be easier to just want ice cream rather than try and convince everyone else to want cake or to be disappointed that you didn’t get what you wanted.”

Her mom sniffed. “I’m sorry we didn’t have the money to give each of you the snack food of your choice at all times,” she said, sounding so much like Sadie that Greta almost laughed. Then realized that, no, Sadie sounded like their mom.

“It’s not like that, Mom,” Maggie said. “It’s not a fault, just a fact.”

“I know what you mean,” Tillie said. “I just never care that much about the details, so I guess I was fine going with what everyone else wanted.”