CHAPTER 6

Martin chose a breakfast place near the apartment.

At seven-thirty, he sat in the corner with two bowls of soup on the table. One was for me.

I sat but did not touch it.

Neither did he.

After a minute, he said, "Clara, I need the truth."

"Ask."

"Does Mia's condition have anything to do with you?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"The man. The weight loss. Doctors can't explain any of it. These things started right after you changed."

"I'm an office assistant, Martin. What do you think I can do? Make a person lose twenty pounds out of nowhere? Put a random man in her messages?"

He watched me. "I don't know how. I only know it didn't happen to you. It happened to her."

"Coincidence."

"Clara." His voice dropped. "Mia is my daughter. She's in a hospital bed. Don't give me coincidence."

I set down my spoon.

"I lived in your house for fifteen years. How many times did you care what happened to me?"

His eyes shifted.

"Mia wanted something, and you gave it to her. I wanted something, and you looked away. Mom favored her, and you let it happen. She took my things, and you told me I was older."

"That was the past."

"The past still counts." My voice stayed low. "On my fifteenth birthday, Mom gave me her used phone. That same week, Mia had two new ones. Do you remember?"

His mouth tightened.

"When we moved, I got the smallest bedroom. She got the big room and the study. You said she needed space for school. I was in school too. Do you remember?"

He did not answer.

"One share for me. Two for her. Every year. Every time. You and Mom called that normal. Nobody asked if I was hurt."

The kitchen vent hummed above us.

Martin lowered his head. "I admit we failed you. But that was our mistake. You can't take it out on Mia's body."

"I'm not taking anything out on anyone."

"Then why is this happening?"

"I don't know."

He looked at me as if trying to read a language he had never learned.

He could not. He had never studied me.

"Clara, I'm begging you." His eyes turned wet. "If anything happens to her-"

"Martin," I said, "do you know you sound exactly like Mom used to? Mia cries, Mom comes for me. Mia gets sick, you come for me. You all still think the problem is me."

I stood.

"Ask Mia how much she has taken from me. Ask her before you ask me for mercy."

My hands shook when I stepped outside.

Not fear.

Anger.

When I got home, Mom was in the living room. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

I stopped in front of her.

"Do you think I did this too?"

She looked away.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Martin came to talk to me. You knew."

Silence.

"Mom, what kind of person do you think I am?"

At last she looked at me.

"You're my daughter."

"Then why have you never stood on my side?"

She had no answer.

In my room, the system waited.

Today's wishes remaining: 1.

Talking did nothing. In this family, if words could not make them understand, facts would.

I typed slowly.

I wish to stay awake six extra hours every night.

Wish accepted.

Six hours for me.

Twelve for Mia.

If normal sleep was eight hours, I would sleep two.

Mia would sleep none.

My phone buzzed before I could put it down.

A message from Mia.

Clara, help me.

I stared at the words for a long time.

I did not answer.