I wasted so much of our time together arguing and being jealous of how perfect she was, but if I could go back, I’d be content to just sit in the corner and watch her study. I’d give anything to be in the same room again. To see her smile.
I’d apologize for the awful things I said to her the last time I saw her.
My chest tightens at the thought of my careless words, and guilt consumes me when I think about how I left her.
I was angry because I felt like Mallory and Dad were ignoring me. I’d found Mom’s address on a legal document I wasn’t supposed to see, and I was determined to find her.
I hadn’t seen her since the day she left, and I was sure she’d be there. I needed her to be there because every time I tried to reach out to her, I got nothing in return. It was like she’d vanished from our lives, but I needed her back. I needed to prove to myself I was good enough for her to love. I was going to beg if I had to.
My whole life I’d been thirsty for her attention because it was so seldom, but the moments that were good overshadowed the bad. They made me want her no matter how bad it hurt to be by her side the rest of the time.
Mallory refused to take me to see Mom. She didn’t even let me talk about it, so the next day I climbed out on the ledge of one of the school windows and stared down at my fellow students, dangling my legs over the ledge two stories above them.
If she wasn’t going to give me the attention I wanted, I knew how to get it.
The second my sister caught sight of me, she was furious and sprinted toward the entrance doors.
She barged into the room, panting and holding herself up by the door.
I spun around and waved.
She ran up and grabbed me by the collar of my blazer. “What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to drive me mad?”
I learned a long time ago that if someone won’t pay attention to me when I’m doing well, I have to make the most of the attention they give me when I act out. So I smiled. “Aren’t you already mad?”
Her jaw clenched, and she swallowed, tucking her lips in. She forced herself not to do or say something rash. She was perfect Mallory, and perfect Mallory wasn’t supposed to lose her temper. “What if something happened to you?”
There was a lump in my throat. One I’d tried to bury since the night before, trying to tear away my fake confidence. “It’s not like you would’ve cared.”
“Oh, shut up. You brat!”
There was a beat of silence, then I said, “You’re the one who won’t take me to see Mom.”
Mallory’s jaw dropped. “Is that what this was about? Are you serious? Why would we go?”
“Because Mom—”
“Mom left us, and she’s never coming back!” Her face flushed and her lip wobbled. “Why can’t you understand that?”
Swords. Knives. Her words cut into me, each one stabbing my heart.
My eyes warmed. “How do you know?”
“I just do, okay?” She shook her head. “You can’t pull stunts like this just because you’re upset. Why do you think Mom—” She stopped herself, and covered her mouth.
“Mom what?” I shoved her because she was ready to say what I already knew: Mom left because of me.
She lowered her eyes and her mouth fell open enough to whisper, “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“No. Finish your sentence!”
She shook her head.
“Fine, if you won’t take me, I’ll call Dad.” I took my phone out of my blazer pocket. “I’ll ask him to take me.”
She ripped the phone out of my hands, holding it out of reach. “Don’t you dare! He has enough to worry about!”
I took a step back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
