We Are Us

Chapter 17 Sackett, Co

Thanksgiving Break, Freshman Year

Thanksgiving in the Whitman household is a simple affair. Normally, I envy those who celebrate the holiday with chaotic gatherings of extended family. But this year, I am grateful it’s just the three of us at our small kitchen table.

My mom mostly sips her wine quietly, for once poured into an actual wineglass, while Sadie quizzes me on every last detail about my life at Worthington. Somehow, I manage to plaster the mask of a happy, carefree college co-ed on my face, sprinkling lies in with the truth. School is great. Wren is an acquired taste but she’s fine. Sure, I’ve made tons of friends. My professors are tough, but fair. Yes, there is a lot of work but it’s manageable. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. No, I haven’t been to any fraternity parties.

She’s applying to colleges now, and has already submitted her application to Worthington, early decision. Sadie is convinced she’ll get in because, according to her, she’s a legacy now. I decide not to remind her that getting in isn’t the hard part. Without the same kind of financial aid package they gave to me, there’s no way she can afford to go.

Finally, di

“Please tell me you’re too full for cake,” Sadie urges quietly, as we gather up the dishes and bring them into the kitchen. “I don’t want us to get there late.”

“Get where late?”

“There’s a party—”

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Are you serious?” The plates in Sadie’s hands clatter to the countertop as she spins around to face me. “Everyone’s going out tonight!”

“Well, everyone won’t include me.” My full stomach churns with an unsettling mix of guilt and exasperation. Over the past year, Sadie’s interests have expanded to include real boyfriends as well as fictional ones. Her current boyfriend is on the football team, which has her embracing an entirely new social circle.

I’m glad she’s happy and having fun. But her plans don’t have to include me.

“I thought things would change once you went off to college, that maybe you would miss me.” My sister’s face is pinched, her lips set in an angry pout. “But I guess you’re still too good to hang out with me.”

“What?” I don’t know what to make of her accusation. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just telling it like it is. You haven’t wanted to spend time with me in years.”

“That’s not true! I—”

“Oh, please. Stop lying. You’re always hiding things from me, keeping secrets. We’re a year and a half apart, Poppy. Stop treating me like I’m a baby.”

“I don’t.” But I know I do. After so many years caring for Sadie, watching out for her, protecting her, it’s a hard habit to break.

“It is true,” she insists, the gold in her hazel eyes flashing brightly, the venom in her voice cutting deep.

“Girls!” our mom admonishes from the other room. “Do I need to come in there?”

“No,” we say, in unison, turning away from each other. Grateful for something to do with my hands, I begin washing the pots from the stovetop.

For a few minutes, there is only the sound of ru

I jerk back, nearly dropping the slippery pot cover I was washing. I set it down in the sink and turn off the water. “I miss you too, Sadie.”

I hate fighting with my sister. Especially within earshot of our mother. And I know Sadie does too. The fear that she’ll leave us again has never truly dissipated. When DCSF came for us, my mother had been gone for three days. A neighbor finally called the police, hearing Sadie crying for food and my unsuccessful attempts to soothe her through the thin walls of our government-subsidized apartment.

We were taken away, but only after she left us behind.

My sister and I have had plenty of arguments before, but I’m not the person I was just a few months ago. Though I’m standing upright, it’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to drop to the ground and curl up in a ball.

“I’m sorry,” I say, looking directly at Sadie. And I am. I resented my sister when she was young. I was a kid myself, tasked with caring for Sadie as if I were her parent. And it’s clear that she resents me now, mistaking my indifference for apathy. But as much as I love her, I can’t be the sister she needs right now.

Sadie nods her head. “I’m sorry, too.”

She gives me a hard hug and I feel awful for not being a better sister. I want to say that I’ll go out with her tonight. That I’ll drink with her and her friends, make conversation with whatever guy she’s currently crushing on, tell everyone how great college is and how I can’t wait for Sadie to join me at Worth U next year.

But I can’t do that. I wish I could. But I can’t.

I can’t explain why either. I’ve always shielded Sadie from ugly truths. I turned my mother’s extended absences into elaborate games, made long nights pass quickly with Scheherazade-like stories, and protected her from bullies at the group home.

I’ve backed myself into a corner, and now I’m caught in a trap of my own making. How can I confide in Sadie about Tucker with telling her about Gavin, too? I’ll have to admit that I’ve been lying to her for years.

Losing Gavin nearly broke me. And what happened with Tucker is a hot stone I can barely carry. If Sadie turns away from me now, I—

I don’t even want to think about it.

“Want to go to a movie tomorrow?” I ask. It’s a peace offering. A flimsy one.

Sadie takes the lid from me, though she rebuffs my olive branch. “I’d much rather grab a cup of coffee and actually talk about what’s going on with you.”

I avoid her tenacious gaze by looking around for something else to wash, but the sink and counters are clear. “Nothing’s going on with me.”

“You were moping around here before you went away, and you’re still moping now that you’re back.” She lowers her voice to a stage-whisper. “It’s a guy, right?”

Elbowing Sadie aside, I reach into the cabinet below the sink for the spray cleaner. “Jesus, Sadie.” Why won’t she just drop it?

She leans back against the counter, interpreting my non-answer as a yes. “Who is he?” I hear her suck in a breath just before she hits me with the dish towel again. “You finally hooked up with your roommate’s guy, didn’t you? That hottie lacrosse player? Come on, tell me everything.”

She may as well have tossed a bucket of ice water over my head. “Sadie, stop looking for dirt. Especially since there’s none to find.” A chill penetrates my spine and I shiver, regretting letting Sadie come visit when Wren decided she needed some “retail therapy” and spent a weekend shopping in New York City. Sadie had practically drooled over Tucker when she saw him.

To avoid looking my sister in the face, I spray every inch of the countertop with cleaning solution, the plastic bottle belching with each squeeze. Ripping off a wad of paper towels, I attack the fake granite, rubbing so hard the finish starts flaking off.

Sadie watches me, looking entirely unconvinced.

I’m saved by a bell. Well, technically, it’s a horn.

Exchanging the dish towel for her purse, Sadie is halfway through the door before she turns back, pointing at me. “We’re not finished, by the way.”