Chapter 2

By morning, my second molar was loose.

I woke with it resting beneath my tongue and blood dried at the corner of my mouth.

Downstairs, cabinet doors opened and closed. Bacon hissed in a skillet. The smell made my empty stomach cramp so hard that I had to curl into myself.

The Midnight Clinic had given me only one instruction after the transfer.

"Eat. Your body will need more fuel than you can imagine."

I had eaten nothing since yesterday afternoon.

When I reached the kitchen, Noah was packing leftovers into containers. Lily sat at the island in silk pajamas, cutting strawberries into her pancakes.

Mom had shaped one of them like a heart.

There was no plate for me.

"I need something to eat," I said.

Noah glanced at me. "You need rehab."

"I'm not on drugs."

"Sure."

I opened the refrigerator. Half the turkey was still there, along with mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, pie, and enough food to feed us for a week.

I reached for the milk.

Noah slammed the refrigerator door against my arm. "What are you looking for?"

"Breakfast."

"Or cash?"

I stared at him.

He began opening drawers, searching through them. "People like you steal from their families when they can't afford their next hit."

"People like me?"

"Junkies."

Lily lowered her fork. "Noah, don't be mean."

She said it gently, like she was defending me. Then she took another bite of the breakfast Mom had made for her.

Mom entered with a cup of coffee. "Emma, go back upstairs."

"I'm hungry."

"You should have thought of that before putting poison in your body."

"I told you, I didn't—"

"No arguments today." She touched Lily's shoulder. "Your sister needs a peaceful morning."

My knees nearly buckled. I gripped the counter until the dizziness passed.

"Please. I'll make something myself."

Mom looked at my shaking hands and mistook weakness for withdrawal.

Disgust tightened her mouth. "Fine. Clean up after yourself."

I found a carton of chicken broth in the pantry and poured it into a saucepan. My fingers were too numb to hold the handle properly. Twice, the spoon slipped from my hand.

Still, the smell of the warming broth made saliva flood my mouth.

I added leftover turkey, carrots, and a handful of rice.

Nothing fancy. Just something hot enough to quiet the pain inside me.

When I carried the bowl toward the table, Noah stepped into my path. "What's in it?"

"Soup."

"What did you put in it?"

"Food."

"Don't get smart with me." He snatched the bowl before I could stop him.

Hot broth spilled over my fingers. I cried out, but Noah was already carrying it to the sink.

"Noah, please."

He tipped the bowl.

Rice, turkey, and golden broth vanished down the drain.

I watched the last piece of carrot circle the disposal. My stomach clenched so violently that black spots swam across my vision.

"That was all I wanted," I whispered.

Noah turned on the faucet. "Then stop getting high."

Behind him, Lily took a bite of bacon. The crunch sounded unbearably loud.

By noon, a locksmith had arrived.

Dad told him to install smart locks on the refrigerator, pantry, and medicine cabinet.

Each one opened with a six-digit code and logged every attempt through an app on Dad's phone.

"We shouldn't have to live like prisoners," Dad said, watching the man drill into the pantry door. "But apparently one person in this house can't be trusted."

Mom gave the code to Noah. Then to Lily.

Not to me.

I stood in the hallway and watched Lily enter the numbers.

Her birthday.

"Don't even try guessing," Dad warned me. "Three wrong attempts trigger an alarm."

"I just want food."

"You'll eat when one of us is here to supervise you."

They left that afternoon to take Lily shopping. No one supervised me.

I drank water from the bathroom sink until my stomach felt swollen. It did nothing for the weakness in my limbs.

That night, they returned with restaurant bags.

I could smell roasted chicken from upstairs.

No one called my name.

The next morning, Mom left early for work. Dad had meetings. Noah went to the gym.

Lily stayed home.

I found her in the kitchen wearing a new cashmere sweater. A pink pastry box sat open in front of her. Inside were six tiny cakes glazed like jewels.

She bit into one covered in white chocolate.

Cream clung to her lower lip.

"Could you open the pantry?" I asked.

She licked the cream away. "Why?"

"I haven't eaten in two days."

"That sounds dramatic."

"You know what the transfer is doing to me."

Her smile disappeared.

"Keep your voice down."

"There's no one else here."

"There are cameras."

"Then let them see you feed me."

Lily glanced toward the small security camera above the doorway. When she looked back, her expression had changed. She seemed frightened now. Fragile.

It was the face she used whenever our parents were watching.

"You're scaring me, Emma."

"I asked for food."

"You're obsessed with ruining my recovery."

"You're alive because of me."

Her hand closed around the diamond at her throat.

"Can you prove that?"

The question struck harder than Mom's slap.

Lily carried the pastry box to the locked pantry and stood directly in front of the keypad.

Beep.

She entered the wrong code.

Beep.

Then another.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Her eyes stayed on mine.

Beep.

The third attempt failed.

A siren exploded through the house.

I covered my ears. My pulse slammed against my skull.

Lily dropped the pastry box and screamed.

By the time Mom called through the security system, Lily was crying.

"Mom!" she sobbed toward the camera. "Emma tried to make me open it! She grabbed me!"

"I never touched you."

Lily backed into the counter. "She said she'd hurt me if I didn't give her the code."

Mom arrived twelve minutes later.

She didn't ask what happened.

She seized my arm and dragged me away from the pantry. "You threatened your sick sister over food?"

"She did it herself."

"Liar."

"I haven't eaten since Thanksgiving."

"There is food in this house."

"Behind locks I can't open!"

"Because you cannot be trusted!" Her nails dug into my skin.

I looked at Lily. She stood behind Mom, eating one of the cakes she had picked up from the floor.

She smiled around the bite.

The room tilted. I tried to reach for the counter, but my hand missed.

My knees hit first. Then my shoulder. My cheek struck the hardwood floor.

I could hear Mom speaking above me, but her voice seemed very far away. "Get up, Emma."

I couldn't.

She grabbed my wrist and pulled.

Pain shot through my bones. A cry escaped me.

Dad and Noah came through the front door just as Mom hauled me onto my knees.

Dad looked from me to the flashing lock. His face hardened. "This ends now."

"I'm sick," I whispered.

"No. You're an embarrassment."

He crouched until we were eye to eye.

"Tomorrow is the town's winter figure-skating qualifier. Lily has waited all year for it."

I stared at him through the dark spots clouding my vision.

Dad tightened his grip on my chin.

"You will compete."

"I can barely stand."

"You will skate beside your sister, smile for the cameras, and prove to everyone that you are not using drugs."

My heart stumbled inside my chest. "And if I can't?"

His fingers released me. "Then you can get out of this house and starve somewhere else."