Chapter 1

I went hiking that weekend, and an hour in, I got tired and stopped to catch my breath.

When I looked up again, Michael, Ethan, and Brooklyn were gone.

I stood there with my mind gone blank.

The year I took the SATs, I pushed myself to the edge and barely scraped into the same school as the three of them.

For four years, they were the three everyone on campus talked about, and I was the tagalong nobody noticed.

After graduation, I applied twice before I got into the same agency where they worked.

Over the next few years, the three of them became the youngest top performers in the department.

The whole way up, they talked policy documents and promotions while I stayed the quiet one who never got a word in.

As long as Brooklyn was around, I was the accessory nobody thought about.

Whenever I tried to speak, Michael would frown, put out about it.

Ethan would give my head a lazy pat.

"What is it this time, Silly? If you can't keep up, slow down. No rush. We'll wait for you up ahead."

Then the three of them would walk side by side, as though there had never been a fourth person there.

I watched their backs disappear into the mist.

And something came clear to me.

The road where I kept driving myself to catch up with them was exhausting and hard.

If that was how it worked, I would take a different road.

*****

Once I came back to myself, I tightened my backpack straps and turned around without a word.

At some point, my face had gone wet, and I hadn't made a sound.

I wiped my eyes and went back down the stone steps, one at a time.

Going up was easy, and coming down was another matter. My knees gave out, and I had to stop and hold the railing three times before I reached the bottom.

I sat on a stone bench for a long time.

Then my phone rang. It was my boyfriend, Ethan Perry.

"Hey, Silly! Where did you go? We're at the overlook already, and the clouds up here are unbelievable."

I didn't say anything.

"Are you resting somewhere again? Twenty more minutes and you're at the top. Come on."

"I'm going back down," I said.

There was a pause on the other end.

Ethan asked, "Going back down?"

"I'm tired. I'm heading out."

"Hey, what's gotten into you."

Before Ethan could finish, my sister, Brooklyn Sutton's voice came through the phone.

"Claire, what is going on? We're all thirsty, and the water is in your bag. There's nowhere to buy any up here. Why did you leave by yourself?"

I said nothing.

"Claire? Are you listening?"

"Michael has said your name about five times, asking why you always fall apart at the worst moment."

So the only reason they thought of me was the water in my bag.

"You guys can figure it out," I said.

There was a second of silence, and then my brother, Michael Sutton's, voice came on, impatient as always.

"Claire, what are you throwing a fit about now? There's nowhere to buy water up here, and you walked off without a word. What is that supposed to mean? Can't you be the good one for once?"

Be the good one.

I had heard those words my whole life.

For twenty-six years, I was the good one who handed Brooklyn everything worth having.

The princess dress was hers, the new backpack was hers, and whenever our parents came back from a trip, hers was the nice gift, and mine was the afterthought.

I was the good one who never cried and never made a fuss, because that was the only way my parents would pat my head and say, "Claire is such a good girl. You're a wonderful big sister."

I used to think being good got a person loved.

Later, I learned that being good only kept a person from being disliked.

"I left the water in the trunk," I said.

Then I hung up and walked to the bus stop.

As the bus pulled in, another message came through from Ethan.

Ethan: [Silly, how can you be this difficult.

[Brooklyn is crying because of you. You're the older one. Can't you give her some room? Michael and I will spend the rest of the night calming her down.]

Brooklyn was crying. She always cried.

The mountains outside the window pulled away, little by little.

And it struck me as funny.

I had chased the three of them for more than ten years, from school into the agency, and I had the scars to show for it.

And the three of them walked ahead together and never stopped for me, not for half a step.

The bus came into the city.

I got off and went to the bank instead of going home.

I checked everything I had saved over the years. It came to seventy-one thousand dollars.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to get me far away.

At home, Mom was peeling an apple for Brooklyn, and Michael was sprawled on the couch with a game.

Mom saw me come in and didn't lift her head.

"So you decided to come home. Brooklyn was so upset she couldn't eat. That's cold of you, as her older sister," she said.

I stood in the entryway without answering, and I waited until I was in the living room to speak.

"Mom, I need to talk to you about something," I said.

"About what?"

Mom put the peeled apple into Brooklyn's hand.

"Later. Can't you see your sister isn't feeling well?"

Brooklyn held her stomach and gave me a weak smile, with that familiar satisfaction sitting in her eyes.

The words were at the edge of my mouth, and I swallowed them.

Then Mom seemed to remember something and looked up.

"Right. Clear out your room. We're giving it to Michael for the wedding, so you'll move into the storage room for now."