Chapter 2

2 "Ashley! Still looking for that receipt?"

"You're dropping that piano class. End of story."

"Little miss high and mighty thinks she can play Chopin. Look in the mirror, kid."

Dad, impatient, stormed back towards the study. Inside, frantic scrambling. Nowhere to hide except under the desk. Two huddled figures, clutching clothes, trembling.

Last time, I froze. Dad found them. Sarah got slapped. Jake went to jail. Sarah never defended him. Blamed me for ratting her out. That druggedBubble tea on the camping trip. The van. The mountains. The torture. The pigs.

And Sarah? Lived it up. With my parents' love, and the college fund Grandma left me.

A smirk crept across my face. I closed the door and bolted downstairs, plastering a sweet, apologetic smile on my face.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Don't worry about the piano lessons. I won't go anymore."

They wanted to use Grandma's money for Sarah's latest whim �C painting lessons. Last time I fought them. Got grounded, forced to "reflect" for a week.

Not this time.

They blinked. Surprised. Muttered something about me being careless, about Sarah being so much more mature. I nodded. Yeah, mature enough to give them a grandkid, lock them into a three-generation circus.

They burned through the afternoon. But Jake wasn't satisfied. Leaving, he pocketed Dad's Montblanc pen. A worthless family heirloom. He pawned it for cash to impress his ex at the nail salon.

I knew this because Jake's cousin, Mark, sat in front of me in class. He bragged about Jake's exploits non-stop. Didn't know Sarah was the latest conquest. He'd go on and on about how Jake bragged about banging her all afternoon, about downing two dozen oysters to replenish his strength.

"She's easy. Hot body. Falls for anything. A few dead roses and she's handing over her allowance."

"My cousin's a genius. Juggling chicks like a pro. Screwing around in her dad's study. What a legend."

I scribbled in my notebook, barely containing my contempt. This was Sarah's "true love." The "happily ever after" that cost me my life. Just a joke. Someone else's punchline.

Fine. Let them have each other.

That night, the battlefield was cleaned up. But when Sarah clung to Mom, begging for money for a "photography workshop" out of state, her shirt shifted. Hickies. Everywhere.

She didn't know Dad had fixed the study's security camera. Their little performance was recorded in HD. One word to Dad and her life would implode.

I smiled, looked down. Caught Sarah's eye.

"What are you smiling at, Ashley?"