Chapter 1

Mom and Dad always said living in the city was expensive. They couldn't afford to raise three kids there.

So my older brother, Brandon, went to boarding school, while my younger sister, Stella, lived with our aunt Marla.

And since I'd always been close to Grandpa and Grandma, leaving me on their farm was supposedly the easiest solution.

I believed them.

After college application season ended, Northbridge asked me to submit my birth certificate, a copy of my Social Security card, and a guardian's signature for enrollment and financial aid verification.

I called Mom.

"Just wait. I'll make copies and mail them to you. There's no need to come all the way here."

But I'd scored a perfect 1600 on the SAT.

I wanted to tell them in person that I'd made it out, too.

So I spent twenty-four hours on a Greyhound, transferring twice before finally reaching my parents' house.

Stella opened the door.

She wore a navy blazer from a private school. Behind her stood a piano and an entire closet packed with ballet dresses.

She froze when she saw me, then turned around and shouted, "Mom! Someone's here for you!"

Brandon poked his head out of a bedroom with "BRANDON'S ROOM" plastered across the door. A game controller was still in his hand.

"Dad, I got my new computer set up! Come check it out!"

The second Dad saw me, the smile disappeared from his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need my documents."

He pointed toward the study.

"Find them yourself."

I opened a drawer and pulled out a folder labeled CALLAHAN FAMILY—IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS.

Dad's birth certificate and Social Security card were first.

Then Mom's.

Then Brandon's.

Then Stella's.

Mine wasn't there.

Dad noticed where I'd stopped.

"Your documents have always been with Grandpa. Your birth certificate, Social Security card, medical consent forms—they're all registered to the farm address."

His tone was completely matter-of-fact.

"Your brother needed to go to school in the city, and your sister was little. We had to prioritize."

I looked at him.

"So all those years you told me Brandon was at boarding school and Stella lived with Aunt Marla... you were lying?"

Mom's face went pale.

"We weren't lying. We just didn't want you overthinking things."

I closed the folder and pulled out my enrollment form.

Dad's name was already written under Guardian.

I crossed it out.

Then I wrote Grandpa's name instead.

"You don't have to hide it from me anymore."

"I know I don't belong in this family."

...

Dad didn't say anything after I crossed out his name. He simply put the folder back in the drawer.

"Have Grandpa mail you the copies."

"Handle your own college stuff. Don't let it interfere with your brother and sister."

I put away the form.

And the screenshot of my perfect SAT score I'd planned to show them.

At dinner that night, Mom still set only four places.

She picked every piece of onion out of Brandon's food, then warmed a glass of oat milk especially for Stella.

"Regular milk upsets Stella's stomach. We can't mix them up."

When it came to me, she stood in front of the refrigerator for a long time.

"Do you eat strawberries?"

I stared at her.

"I've been allergic to strawberries since I was little."

Her expression stiffened.

"Really?"

"It's been so long. Mom must've gotten mixed up."

I'd been six when I stopped living with them.

Now I was eighteen.

And everything they knew about me was still frozen at six years old.

Over dinner, Dad walked Brandon through everything from interview questions to what he should wear. He even promised to buy him a new monitor.

Mom repeatedly checked Stella's ballet dress, hair clips, and allergy medication for Family Day at school.

When it was finally my turn, Dad asked only one thing.

"When are you going back?"

My hand paused.

"My college paperwork isn't finished yet. I need to stay a few days."

Mom instinctively glanced at Brandon and Stella.

Only after dinner did I realize there wasn't a place for me in the house.

Brandon needed quiet.

Stella didn't want to share a room with a "stranger."

And my parents had no intention of giving up their own bedroom.

In the end, Mom booked me a motel room outside the neighborhood.

She shoved the key card into my hand.

"It's only for a few days anyway."

"Don't disrupt their lives."

I dragged my suitcase away.

Just as I reached the motel, Mom called.

Brandon's interview had suddenly required both parents to attend, and Stella had Family Day at school the next morning.

Mom wanted me to take her place with Stella.

Standing outside the motel, I asked, "Stella doesn't even know who I am. You're comfortable leaving her with me?"

Mom answered as if it were obvious.

"You're her biological sister."

"What's wrong with taking care of her once?"

The next morning, I took Stella to school using the address Mom had sent me.

Her teacher asked how we were related.

I had barely said I was her sister when Stella corrected me seriously.

"She's not my sister."

"Mom said she's a relative who lives out in the country."

There was no malice in her voice.

She was only repeating what our parents had taught her.

When it was time to introduce their families, Stella pulled out a family photo of four people.

She said Dad picked Brandon up every week.

Mom prepared her ballet clothes every day.

Brandon bought her snacks.

She never mentioned me.

In Stella's understanding of "family," no one had ever told her there was another daughter.

Mom rushed over after the event.

The first thing she said wasn't thank you.

It was, "You didn't tell the teachers anything you shouldn't have, did you?"

I looked at her.

"I'm Stella's sister. Is that something I'm not supposed to say?"

Mom frowned.

"She just found out you exist. She can't process it yet."

"You're already grown. Don't fight a child for her place in the family."

I'd been the one excluded from that family for years.

Yet somehow, I was still the one expected to be understanding.

When we got back, Dad was reviewing Brandon's interview with him.

I took out my college paperwork.

"Can you guys look this over for me?"

Dad didn't even reach for it.

"It's your school. Handle it yourself."

Then he sent me Stella's pickup and drop-off schedule for the next day.

"Since you're still here, help the family out for another day."

When they needed me to take responsibility, I was Stella's big sister.

When I needed them to take responsibility, I was suddenly the child Grandpa and Grandma had raised.

My college documents were due in three days.

I went back to the motel and called Grandpa, asking him to mail copies of my documents directly to my college counselor.

Then I locked the screenshot of my 1600 SAT score away on my phone again.

I'd wanted them to be the first people I told my best news to.

Now I wanted to see just one thing.

How long would it take before they finally asked about me on their own?