According to her, the original party “didn’t capture her true essence.”
I swear I’m not making that up.
“Mom, I wanted to ask about my birthday next month,” I said, setting my backpack down by the counter.
The look she gave me could have frozen fire.
“Emma, your sister is going through something right now,” she said. “She’s been feeling overlooked lately, and we need to be sensitive to her needs.”
Bethany didn’t even look up. She just kept circling pictures of balloon arches and dessert tables with her pink gel pen.
“I just want to have dinner with maybe five friends,” I said carefully. “We could go to that Italian place downtown. I’ve been saving money from work.”
“Absolutely not.”
My dad’s voice came from the doorway. I hadn’t even heard him walk in.
“Do you have any idea how that would make your sister feel?” he demanded. “She’s already struggling with her self-esteem. Watching you celebrate would devastate her.”
I stared at him, waiting for the joke.
It never came.
“It’s my 18th birthday.”
“And she’s your sister,” my mom cut in. “Family comes first, Emma. Always. When you turn 18, you become an adult. That means you need to think less about yourself and more about how your actions affect other people.”
The logic was so twisted I almost laughed.
Almost.
Bethany finally looked up, her eyes wide and innocent.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” she said. “I know it’s not fair to you. I just feel like nobody ever pays attention to me, and if you have a big party, I’ll feel invisible again.”
My mother immediately wrapped an arm around her.
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