CHAPTER 1

Three months, twelve days, and fifteen hours had passed since I ruined my sister’s life. I’d spent all one hundred thousand minutes since trying to make it up to her. Well, okay, I wasted some of those minutes sleeping. And I never really thought about her while showering or using the toilet because that’s just weird.

Presents didn’t work. The one thing Lara wanted couldn’t be bought. Apologies lost their meaning when I chanted them over and over, and she learned to tune me out. I even got a summer job and gave her all my earnings. I knew it was my fault she couldn’t dance anymore with her hip injury, and I figured I could at least try to pay for her physical therapy. But that backfired when she returned the money, claiming she didn’t want to owe me any debt. That was the last time she actually spoke to me on her own volition. At home, she went out of her way to avoid me, spending less time at the house each day.

I was about to give up and embrace the title of disowned sister like Lara so readily wanted me to wear. But today when I began my first day of 12th grade, a marketing assignment offered me the opportunity to confess my shameful actions against Lara while simultaneously giving her the one thing she still craved: the chance to be a star. I hoped this was what I needed to win Lara’s forgiveness. Maybe even rekindle our friendship.

The bell for last period sounded, and students shuffled into the hallway, gabbing about their new teachers and regaling each other with stories about exciting summers. I rushed down the hallway to the school newspaper meeting. In order to help Lara, I’d have to give up my spot on the swim team and join the newspaper staff instead. The meeting times for both organizations conflicted. I figured it was only fair. An eye for an eye. Or rather, an inability to dance in exchange for a relinquished cherished pastime.

Getting on newspaper wouldn’t be easy. I’d have to turn on the charm. I pushed open the door to the media classroom where Lonnie Weitzman, newly crowned editor-in-chief, stood in front of a desk, humming to himself.

“Kasey?”

I obviously took him by surprise because his small eyes opened as wide as possible, and he dropped the papers he was holding. His curly locks bounced as he bent underneath a desk to retrieve them.

I crouched beside him. He met my eyes, smiled, and bumped his head on the underside of the desk. He rubbed his head while I picked up the remaining papers and handed them back to him.

Lonnie fanned through the pages, looking hard at the numbers in the corners, pulling out various sheets and slipping them in between others. He moved at blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed.

“It makes for a more interesting read all out of order,” I said. “Consider it a favor.”

He snorted a laugh. I placed my palm on his shoulder, ready to use that laugh to my advantage, but he flinched and stared at his papers, the pages vibrating in his shaky hands.

My smile wavered. My plan was to win him over with humor, but maybe I’d used too much. I didn’t mean to give him the wrong idea. Time to switch tactics. Just the facts. “I want to join the newspaper. I read that email you sent to the school. You’re looking for a bi-weekly serialized story? I have one about this tumultuous relationship with my-”

“Oh. You’re in a…you have an idea for a story about a relationship?”

“My relationship with my sister. It’s a true story. About how I ruined her life.”

Lonnie bit back a smile. “That’s cool. I prefer non-fiction anyway. Like a chapter by chapter memoir?”

I nodded.

“This is great. We’re short on content so I’ll give you a full-page spread, at least to start. But I’ll need a copy before you leave so I can edit it for tomorrow’s edition.”

My stomach dropped. I had to do this. And now. I gripped the edge of a desk for support.

“I think a story about sisters sounds great. Romance isn’t necessary.” He had a goofy grin on his face.

“Well, actually, there is a bit of a romance in it.” I bit my lip. A few months ago, it wouldn’t have even crossed my mind that he might have a crush on me. As much as I wanted to help Lara out by securing this newspaper column, doing it deceitfully went against my brand new mantra of no secrets, no lies. Committing to running the story meant I’d have to be open and honest about absolutely everything, otherwise I’d be right back where I started: putting on a facade. Trying to convince those around me that everything on the surface was fine and normal, while the truth of the situation lay concealed underneath. Our parents didn’t exactly know I was the cause of her injury.

His smile dropped into a thin line. He picked up a pile and banged it on the table to straighten it. He did it again, this time louder, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing.

This had to work. Maybe Lara couldn’t dance anymore, but she could still be in the spotlight. And I could be the one to get her there. If people read about her, then she’d have something to be proud of, to brag about again. And in the process, I’d reveal my involvement in everything, our parents would know the truth and maybe she’d get their approval back. She must be as sick of hiding this secret as I was.

A few kids straggled in and took their seats, flipping their computers on for their email fix.

The door slammed. We both turned our attention to the girl who stood shell-shocked in the entryway, staring at me, probably wondering what I was doing in the newspaper meeting. Denise Yee. My ex-best friend. Another fall-out of my secret-keeping. She had on her racer back bathing suit and Manhattan Prep sweat pants. Only Denise would be confident enough to walk around high school in her swim team uniform. I used to love that about her. We locked eyes for a brief moment, and then both looked at the floor.

She panted to catch her breath. “Oh, you’re participating in something again? Or are you going to quit this too?”

I knew she was talking to me, but Lonnie obviously didn’t because he said, “I was always on the paper. I’m editor now.”

Over the summer, Denise and I were supposed to lifeguard together at the local YMCA. But I never showed up. Or called her to explain why. I told my parents Denise received an unexpected invitation to spend the summer with her older sister in Los Angeles, and I didn’t want to lifeguard without her. My parents bought my story without an inkling of doubt.

Denise crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to one hip. The spandex material flattered her lithe figure. The other kids in the class stared from her to me, like a crowd following a tennis ball during a match. It was obvious a juicy showdown might occur.

Time to make this thing official before I chickened out. “Denise.” I took a deep breath. “I know you hate me for abandoning you for no reason. But I just spoke with Lonnie.” I gestured to him. “And the school newspaper’s going to publish the story of what happened to me and Lara back in June. I hope you read it. It’ll explain everything.”

Denise’s back straightened, and she scanned the other people in the classroom before padding forward to where Lonnie and I stood.

“So you’ll explain things in public when you wouldn’t tell me in private? I don’t get you anymore, Kasey.” She shook her head and turned to Lonnie. “Anyway, can I take the projector? Mrs. Epstein signed it out but forgot to pick it up. We’re watching that stupid lifeguard video.”

I felt a pang of jealousy. I missed that video. I missed the swim team. I missed Denise.

Denise rolled the projector cart out of the room, and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Chatter resumed around me, yet I couldn’t think of a thing to say to Lonnie.

“I’m glad you decided to join the paper.” He still held the papers in his hands and had seemingly forgotten he was sorting them. I wondered if he only gave me the column because he liked me. He didn’t even care what it was about. What if he decided he wouldn’t run it once he found out?

“Me, too.” I was glad, but probably not for the same reason as Lonnie. “Have you heard about Mr. Winslow’s third period marketing class?”

His eyes lit up. “The blog assignment? I tried to sign up for the class, but my guidance counselor thought advanced calculus would be more impressive on my transcript. Are you in it?”

A few of the people in the classroom turned their attention to us. We’d only had the assignment for a few hours, but already the buzz spread all over the school.

“Yeah, I’m in it. I’m thinking about turning the blog into a companion story to this newspaper column. Like, the column will tell the story of how I screwed up things with my sister while the blog chronicles how I’ll try to fix everything.” Outside the window, the streets of New York City bustled with pedestrians. “It’s a strange experiment I guess. One storyline already has an end and the other doesn’t even have a beginning. Anyway, I was wondering if you could put a URL at the bottom of my column in both the print version and the online version and tell people the story continues on my blog.”

He nodded before I’d even finished my sentence. “Oh yeah, that’s a great idea. You can link back to the paper on your site. We could always use the publicity.”

“Thanks.” When I smiled, Lonnie knocked down another pile of papers. He picked up the pile. The rest of the kids took their seats. The computers on the desks flickered on as we prepared for the meeting. I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. For three months, twelve days, and fifteen hours, I did all the wrong things. Now, seventeen minutes had passed where I’d finally done something right.

I took my seat at one of the computers and began composing the first newspaper episode, trying to come up with a good title. Lonnie ran the meeting, and I mostly tuned out, until something caught my ear.

“-Tysh College classes have been delayed. Anyone?” Lonnie scanned the room. A few kids raised their hands.

I wondered what he was talking about. Lara went to Tysh College on a full scholarship. Though it was supposed to be contingent on her participation on the dance team, the school had graciously waived her tuition anyway.

“Great, Pete. Get on that right away. The story’s a few days old so I want it in tomorrow’s edition.” Lonnie turned back to the blackboard and wrote Pete’s name under a headline that read: FEATURE: TYSH COLLEGE GAS LEAK.

I cleared my throat and raised my hand. I’d already slipped into school mode. “Excuse me,” I said. Everyone in the classroom turned in my direction. Lonnie dropped the chalk but caught it in his other hand. “I’m sorry, but I hadn’t heard about this. What happened?”

“Classes had to be delayed a week because of a gas leak. It happened a few days ago.” Lonnie smiled.

“Are you sure it’s Tysh College?” I asked. “Because that can’t be right. My sister goes there. She’s been attending classes all week.”

He nodded a little too eagerly. “It’s been all over the news.”

The students in the class snickered, and I had the sinking feeling they were laughing at me. Lately, I’d been out of touch with my sister, but was I out of touch with reality as well? Lonnie had to be exaggerating. That was the only explanation. The leak probably only encompassed one building and Lara’s classes continued uninterrupted all week.

I finished my column as quickly as possible, then hurried home, desperate to prove Lonnie wrong before his embellished version hit the press tomorrow. Mom accosted me at the door with a barrage of questions about my first day back. “How are your teachers?” “Any chance of making varsity this year?” “How’s Denise?” She wiped the glue from her fingertips on a towel and gestured for me to sit and help her hand make scrapbook cards for a large client order. I used to always help her. Now, I mostly avoided her.

“Where’s Lara?” I asked, ignoring her questions.

Mom picked up her Fiskar scissors and attacked a sheet of sparkly paper. “Still at class.” She examined the edge of the scissors, checking for dullness. Behind her, Lara’s dance trophies filled the mantel above the fireplace. The rest were on display at the stationary store my parents owned.

“So Lara was in school then?” I spoke each word slowly so Mom wouldn’t hear the panic in my voice.

Her brow furrowed. “Yes, honey. Why wouldn’t she be?”

I told Mom I wanted to change into more comfortable clothes before I helped her. I ascended the stairs two at a time. Lara’s door coaxed me at the top. It’s a given that she hadn’t invited me inside recently. She used to have posters of ballerinas and snap shots from Broadway productions lining her teal walls. Now, only globs of funtac remained.

I didn’t want to invade her privacy like this, but I figured she’d keep a record of her schedule and then I could double check if her buildings were affected by the gas leak. I flipped through an old notebook I found open on her desk, once scribbled with choreography ideas. Most of the pages were ripped out. Nothing about Tysh.

The door slammed downstairs, Lara’s signature entrance. My heart thrashed in my chest, drowning out any chance of hearing her approach.

“Lara? Is that you? Dr. Shannon called.” Mom’s voice grew closer with each word.

The thump of something falling on the stairs made me jump. I tiptoed to the open doorway. Framed in the crack, Lara leaned against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, her messenger bag resting at her feet. Mom wasn’t visible from my angle.

“He called here?” Lara asked. “Why?” She pulled out her cell and scrolled through it.

I slunk back into the shadows of the room and tried to control my breathing. Finding me in her room wouldn’t exactly send the message that I was a trustworthy sister. I needed an excuse. Fast. I scanned the room for some inspiration.

“He said something about Friday. An appointment?”

I unzipped my book bag slowly, trying not to make a sound. I pulled out a printed copy of the first installment of my memoir story that would debut in the paper tomorrow. The pages rustled in my shaking hand. I set them down on a large stack of color-coded folders resting on Lara’s desk. The folder labeledslipped from the pile and landed on the floor, falling open to a sheet of paper with Tysh College letterhead.

“Is your doctor in New York now?” Mom prodded.

I bent to pick up the folder and put it away. The letter was dated June 15th. Lara started up the stairs, taking each step with great care. “No. It’s a phone appointment.”

I scanned the letter as if I was auditioning for the World Speed-Reading record. Tysh College. Scholarship revoked. Reapply in the fall.

Why would Lara hide this and pretend to go to college? And how did she kill all that time she spent away from home?

The doorknob rattled just as I closed the folder and inserted it underneath the pile. Lara wrenched open the door and we both stood staring at each other, our faces reflecting the same wide-eyed, open-mouthed, gaze.

She took a deep breath and released it, as if speaking to me required too much effort.

“Uh.” I tapped the stapled copy of my column. “I wanted to give you this.” The door hit the back wall and careened toward her. She pushed it open and let her arm hang limply at her side.

“Sorry,” I said, as I made my way out her door. “I was just trying to-”

“Kasey…” She stared at me, the green flecks inside her iris dancing. The only kind of dancing she still did. “I’ve forgiven you for so much already. I’m just not sure I have it in me for this too.”

Lara locked the door behind me, shutting me back out of her life. Maybe outing our secret to the world wasn’t the best idea. Because even if Lara didn’t know it yet, she just let me in on another one.