Chapter 1

 

I can see her. Fumbling around the kitchen, her hair tendrils tucked behind her ears. She is making dinner. I see her so calm and peaceful, she has no idea what's about to happen. I mean she has no idea that it happened.

She is cooking ladyfingers. I mean, of course, she is. Last night, she made poached eggs, which everybody knows I hate and the rest seems to like. Just the thought of poached eggs makes me nauseous. She is making  up for that. I love ladyfingers. No one else does, I don't know a single person who likes them as much as I do.

 Dua likes them, but she is not the reason my mom makes ladyfingers. I am.

My mom quickly glances at the clock, 3:40 PM. It’s about time Dua and I  got back from school. Mom scoots to the door and unlocks them, so that the neither of us murders the doorbell, it’s a habit.

The door opened. My mother is setting plates on the table. 

"Mom, you let her walk from school and not me! “Dua shouts. 

I see a slight worry crossing my mother's eyes, only for a glimpse. Dua is in the kitchen. 

"What? I didn't know that! She's been closed off lately" mom replies, in an angry tone.

 "Why are you always defending her? She is not even here!" Dua says.

I am sitting in the kitchen counter. Why is mom defending me anyway? Has she always been like this? I tried to recall.

Dua and I tolerate each other but barely, she has changed this year, she used to be different, like the perfect sister. Dua opens the fridge and grabs an apple and throws her shoes and backpack to the corner of the living room.She sees my laptop. 

"Don't even think about it" I mumble knowing she can't hear me. 

She takes my Laptop; of course, she knows my password. It's the word password. Damn, I should have cleared my browsing history and quick access. Who am I kidding? I don't have to care anymore. I get behind the couch to see what she's doing.

She types in my password, revealing my wallpaper; a blue butterfly.

 No matter how hard she try, I am sure she can't find my diary. It's more convenient to write a diary on the laptop anyway. But to my surprise she isn't opening any of it; she is looking at my eBooks. Why? She hates reading and any literally all form of literature, unless it's the new teen vogue. But she is reading my copy of "the catcher in the rye" she is starting from page 76. I guess she's been using my laptop before. 

I used to read bedtime stories to her and Manny. It stopped a long time ago, I wasn’t aware that she still read books. I wonder what else I don't know.

If I were here now, I would throw this all over her face. I scoot over to her side of the couch. Her eyes focused on the pages. She knows I hate her using my stuff. I hate it. I would throw my shoes at her if I saw her using my art supplies, let alone my laptop.

Only if she knew that I am sitting right next to her.

 My sister is still reading. Her eyebrows knitted together, her eyes strained. The way it does when she is so focused. I thought she grew over it. I guess some things never change.

"Liza is not answering her phone," my mom says in worried tone. "Why the hell is she walking from school anyway? Wouldn't she be here by now?" mom added.

The thing about parents, they get mad whenever they are put in a situation where you have the upper hand.

My mom, she burns half of her calories yelling at me and my sister.

It’s not like there’s any other way to keep us both in pace and also drive herself insane. The amount of work Dua and I make her go through is a great deal and my mother is a women who can't stand a hair out of place. 

This is why I sometimes make her think that she’s is the one in control when I clearly am putting ideas in her head. It's the perfect crime. 

Let's say there is a field trip that all your friends are going to and you were really looking forward to going. My mother is in front row, debating whether I am most likely to get lost or being kidnapped, even if the trip is to a museum. We’ve all been there. That's perhaps where you give up.

Let's take an instance; suppose you have a calculus test, you know you can't stand another C- , so you really want to skip school. If your mother is anything like mine, make sure to stay in the bathroom until she notices.

Come out looking very tired; again make sure your mother notices. Let her ask you what's wrong. Tell her: I think I am going to throw up, my head is literally breaking, I think I am going to faint. Or you know something believable and you are most likely to have.

But start getting ready for school; constantly tell her about how sick you are, without actually saying it. You’ll have to keep doing it until she says: that maybe you should skip today. Wait; wait until there’s no “maybe”. If she gives in so easily, it could be a trick, or you may have later consequences. We don’t want that.

Now tell her you to have a PT period today and it's going to be so fun because the teacher has taken a leave,

And watch your mother slowly stop you from going to school that day, now that's how you make your parents "make you" stay at home. Works like a charm. 

…

You know, unless it won’t.