I don’t know when I became my sister’s keeper. Was it when my mom took this stupid case and my family became a fixture in local gossip? When this fucking vandalism started, escalating from mean notes left in our mailbox to graffiti marking the house and salt killing our front lawn? When Gwen started waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares? Or did it begin way before any of that? It’s not like our mom was ever here much—it’s not like our dad’s been present in years. Not since he was laid off five years ago and instead of looking for a new grown-up job decided to pursue a career as a musician at the ripe old age of forty-five. Surprising no one, except maybe him, his career didn’t take off, and six months ago he collapsed into a useless heap of skin and bones. I’m sure the total lack of support from my mom’s end these past few months didn’t help matters; she basically ignored the entire situation, per usual, and, from what I can see, has started to treat him like her third child. A role that he’s readily adopted, a role that’s overshadowed his identity as, you know, a FATHER. Gwen and I are so lucky.

“Dad’s sleeping.” I glance up at his dark window. “C’mon. Let’s just get to school. I’ll text him so he knows what to expect when he goes downstairs today.”

If he goes downstairs today.

“We’re just going to…leave that word? Sitting there? What if the neighbors see it?” Gwen asks.

Considering it’s light out and I can see the kids down the block waiting for the school bus, I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed, but I’m not going to tell her that. Not to mention, I think the neighbors are used to it by now, although I wouldn’t know because they ignore us just like everyone else.

“It’s fine, okay?” I hoist my heavy backpack farther up on my shoulders and walk over to where she’s standing, frozen, a statue made of ice and fear.

I put a hand on her arm. “Gwenie. C’mon. We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave.”

“I don’t care if we’re late. I hate that place.” She mutters this so softly that I almost miss it. I grit my teeth and turn away, pretending that I didn’t hear, pretending that the hot, blustery Santa Ana winds snatched up her words before they could reach me.

I walk by her motionless figure to my car and beep it unlocked.

Behind me there’s silence, and then the sound of her footsteps, running to catch up.

—