Chapter 3

Flora's POV

Blair's hand shot to her throat. Her face went weird.

"Blair, what's wrong?" Dad jumped up.

Mom rushed over. Jason put down his coffee. "Blair?"

She made this strangled noise. "I feel awful… there's mango in this cupcake…"

My chest got tight. Mango?

Blair's eyes filled with tears. "I only ate it because Flora sent it… but she knows I'm allergic. Why would she send me mango cupcakes?"

Then Dad lost it. "Flora did what?! She's trying to kill you?!"

Mom started shaking. "My daughter… how did she turn into this…How could I have such a vicious daughter!"

Jason stared at the box. "I can't believe Flora would actually do this."

In an instant, disappointment and rage filled everyone's faces.

I'm floating there screaming. I didn't send those fucking cupcakes, I didn't order anything.

Blair grabbed the table, breathing hard.

Jason pulled out his phone. "I'm calling Flora. She needs to explain this."

"Jason, don't." Blair caught his arm.

He looked at her. "Why not?"

"Maybe…" Blair bit her lip. "Maybe she's mad about the award. About postponing her engagement. This whole thing is on me. She has every right to be mad at me. Don't give her a hard time about it."

Jason's face went hard.

"Don't call her now," Blair said quietly. "Let her calm down. We can talk later when she's not angry."

Jason thought about it. Nodded. "You're right. She'll just lie if I call now anyway."

He put the phone away. "We'll deal with this when she calms down."

My father glares at my mother, absolutely furious. "No wonder she didn't want to come home, she was trying to hurt Blaire! When she gets back, I'm gonna give her a piece of my mind! Go get Blaire's allergy meds, quick!"

Mom ran upstairs, and she came back looking pale. "It's empty."

Dad grabbed his keys. "Hospital. Now."

Everything happened fast, Jason helped Blair to the door. She leaned on him heavy, really selling it.

The door slammed.

I can't do shit except watch Blair blame me for something I didn't do.

Footsteps from the kitchen.

Maria walked into the dining room. She looked at the empty chairs, the half-eaten cupcake still in the box.

"This family." She let out this tired sigh. "Always so unfair to that girl."

I drifted closer.

Maria picked up the box and shook her head. "Flora's allergic to mango too. Why would she send something that hurts them both?"

She set it down. "That girl's so kind. She wouldn't do this."

The words stopped me cold.

Kind.

Somebody actually called me kind.

Something in Maria's voice pulled at me. A memory I'd shoved down deep.

I was five, lying in a hospital bed.

Everything hurt. They just took my bone marrow, the doctors said it would help my older sister.

I didn't get what bone marrow even was. I just knew it hurt like hell and Mom said it would save her.

That's why I was born. To save her.

Everyone told me. You're here to help your sister. You're here to make her better.

I was fine with it, I loved my sister. She was nice to me even when she was really sick.

But it didn't work.

I was still in that bed, couldn't even move, when I heard Mom screaming in the hallway.

Then she burst in.

Her face was red and soaked. She looked at me like I was something disgusting.

"Why?" She grabbed the rail on my bed. "Why is she dead and you're alive?!"

I didn't understand.

"She was so good… so sweet… why her?!" Mom's voice broke. "Why are you still here?! Why couldn't you save her?!"

I just lay there. Too messed up to move.

That was the first time Mom said I should've died instead.

Not the last though.

A few years later they brought Blair home.

She looked exactly like my dead sister.

Dad carried her in. "This is Blair. She's your new sister."

Mom hugged Blair so tight. "Welcome home, sweetheart."

They never hugged me like that.

From then on Blair got everything. New clothes and I got her old ones. Her own room and I got the small one by the stairs. They praised her for everything, ignored me when I tried.

And I turned into nothing.

The memory let go and I was back in the empty dining room.

I'd known for twenty-five years. Known it every time they looked at me disappointed. Every time they picked her over me.

Didn't matter what I did. Didn't matter how hard I tried.

I'd never be enough.

Because I wasn't supposed to be alive.