Liza’s brown eyes were wide as she watched me laugh-sob. I couldn’t prevent a jealous stab in my chest that her dream of getting into medical school happened only last week, for which my parents threw a party. The day before I decided to move back.
Honestly, I tried to hate Liza for years. How could I not? Growing up as the black sheep only made me acutely aware of how light and easy her life seemed. But since Liza saw the best in everyone, that alsoincludedme. And after Grandma Chen died, she became my lifeline.
Myonlylifeline.
I felt ready to pull out my hair. “It’s arthistory.I’m going to work in a museum someday without even needing to touch a ‘damn paintbrush.’” I stalked back over to the couch. “I’m re-enrolled at the University of Illinois Chicago. They have the best undergraduate fine arts program in the state. I’mgoingthere, and I can live here at the condo with Liza again.”
“No, you’re not.” Dad growled.
“Dad, I’ve already been accepted, and the tuition has already been transferred.”
His silver-rimmed glasses flashed. “Not what I meant. If you’re going to choose independence over brains, you’re not living here.”
My jaw dropped, a fresh wave of tears threatening to do the same. “What?”
He pointed to the door. “Get out.”
My lips quivered. “What? I-I didn’t apply for housing, Dad. You guys live in the suburbs now anyway. Please, UIC isn’t far from here?—”
“Your mother and I still own this condo. As long as we do, you’re not welcome back through that door until you’ve got your head on straight.”
A sob racked Liza beside me, and I pulled her into my arms, glaring at Dad over her shoulder. I swept a pleading look at Mom. Her eyes were wide, but her lips were drawn tight.
She wasn’t going to save me.
A shoulder knocks into me on the fraternity house staircase, and I almost drop my red plastic cup. My eyes brim with hot tears, but my feet are numb. So I stumble into a nearby coat closet and text my lifeline of a sister. I know I’ll bawl like a baby over anything of substance, so I stomp my feelings back down into the darkness. My left knee bounces as I think of something to type.
KATE: Meet me by the Chicago riverbank in twenty minutes. Bring a shovel.
LIZA: Haha, you’re so dumb. Like I would risk prison to help you bury a body.
I can see her sitting at her perfectly organized study desk.
KATE: How’s the studying going?
LIZA: How did you know?
KATE: Because it's a Saturday night during fall break. Of course you’re studying.
LIZA: You don’t know that! Maybe I’m the one at a bangin’ party in a frat house.
KATE: How did you know?!
LIZA: Your track-my-location on your phone, duh. But I’m not stalking you, I swear. I only check it when I get worried.
KATE: Dunno, Liza Guyza. That’s pretty creepy.
LIZA: Shut up. Also… I miss you.
I curse my tear ducts within an inch of their lives to keep it together.
KATE: I miss you too.
LIZA: We’ll get used to this, right? For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. Can’t see you spending your life in a courtroom, anyway. I mean, unless you keep burying bodies. Then you’ll practically live in one.
A tiny smile tugs at my lips, but I close my eyes. I press hard against my temple, where the beginnings of a headache thump in time with the bass outside. Another text tickles my palm.
LIZA: I know February is three months away, but I can’t go to the Lunar New Year parades with Mom and Dad if you aren’t there. Will you come?
