My parents forced me to cook and clean all weekend for my sister’s party with 50 guests.

even in an empty hallway. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

Her mouth opened, then closed.

That was new. Madison usually expected doors to open, chairs to be pulled out, and attention to rearrange itself around her.

“Emily,” she whispered, “you have to fix this.”

I laughed once. Not loudly. Not happily. Just enough to make her flinch.

“Fix what?”

“Mom’s crying in the continue reading …