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I need another way to make this up to her, but I don’t want to “push” her to do something she doesn’t want to do because that’ll only upset her more. My pen taps against the paper, leaving little dots where I should be listing ideas.

Tears start to fall onto the page, and I bite my cheek. At this rate, I’ll be here all night before I come up with a plan.

My eyes travel up and look at all the names I have listed. I can’t help but think about what Daniel said.“There isn’t one thing on that list for you.”

He doesn’t know what he’s talking about... but would it be so bad to add my name to the list? I scribble it down quickly before I can change my mind. Partially, because I want to prove him wrong. He made it seem like I was incapable of putting my name down, and I did. Now, what he said has no value.

It shouldn’t be that hard to write down something next to my name. To write down one thingIwant to do before I die, and yet, my mind goes blank. Every idea that pops into my mind is for someone else. All my ideas revolve around making my family happy. These last few years, I’ve accepted that their happiness is more important than mine because they have their whole lives ahead of them. I don’t.

My head hurts, and I slam the notebook shut. I don’t want to think about this anymore. I take out my phone and look at my socials to try and get my mind off Annie and my list, but I notice a red notification in the corner of my messages.

One of the people I messaged about Meghan replied.

The sun shines brightly through my window as I get ready for school. Annie still isn’t sleeping in our room. She’s practically camping in the living room. She has a stack of her clothes in the easy chair, and two blankets lie across the couch next to her pillow. Each morning she folds the blankets and sets them next to the pile of her clothes so that the couch is usable during the day per Mama’s request.

After I slip into my favorite polka-dotted blouse, the one with the puffy sleeves, I head to the kitchen and give Mama a hug. She’s in the process of making eggs and sausage for breakfast.

“Hey, baby. How are you this morning?” she asks, kissing the top of my head.

“Great,” I say, smiling big.

She hands me two plates of food, and nods toward Annie, who’s sitting at the dining table working on homework. “Go talk to her,” she whispers.

I walk to the table and set Annie’s plate in front of her. “Here’s your breakfast.”

She doesn’t look up. Her eyes are focused on her math problem.

I sit next to her, but she pretends not to notice. She’s giving me such a cold shoulder I almost believe she doesn’t know I’m here.

She sighs, standing. “I have to go to school early today,” she announces, not making eye contact with me.

I want to grab her hand and stop her from leaving, but I don’t know how. My head hurts from all this fighting.

Mama comes and wraps me in a hug. “You need to tell her.”

I nod. “I know.”

Mama scowls and immediately starts inspecting my arm. “What happened to you?”

There’s a massive bruise on my forearm. It doesn’t take much pressure to leave a mark. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

She looks for more bruises, inspecting me like I’m her patient. “Maybe you should stay home from school. You’ve been so busy lately. I think school might be too much for you today.”

I shake my head. “Annie will be there, so I need to be there too.”

Judging by the look on Mama’s face, she wants to protest. But at the same time she knows how badly I need to talk to Annie. She nods. “Okay, I’ll drive you.”

I sling my backpack on my shoulder, staggering from the weight, and put my shoes on.

“You still need to eat breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.” I lost my appetite the second Annie walked out the door.

Mama’s face falls, clearly upset that no one ate the breakfast she worked hard to make.

I hate seeing her disappointed, so even though I don’t want to, I head back to the table. I sit down and force-feed myself the eggs and sausage, then I help Mama with the dishes before we walk out to the car.

Mrs. Jackman is out watering her flowers again, but this time she has her hand on her back. Her brow is furrowed as she takes in a deep breath.