Page 64 of Nevada

“Tilly?” I bang on my sister's door. “Open up.”

“Go away!”

I frown. This isn’t like Tilly. She never tells me to go away, but lately she’s been indifferent and she won’t tell me why. I need to ask one of her friends, not that she has many because she’s a bit of a nerd and a teacher’s pet. My sister is small, really tiny, and I know some of the girls at school pick on her because of it. She’s also a do-gooder and not a fighter, avoiding the popular girls and sticking to smaller, fly-under-the-radar circles.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m tired.”

I bang harder. “If Mama hears, it’ll be worse for you.” My sister is only thirteen, and that’s a delicate age. Being ten years older than her, I know what she’s going through. Hormones for one, and then high school, trying to fit in and find your place in the world when you’re different. I get it. But when Tilly acts like this, it makes me nervous. It’s out of character and I need to find out why.

Mom is barely around these days, and I’ve been looking after Tilly more and more ever since Mom got sick and needed treatment. She’s been in and out of hospital, and nobody can seem to find what’s wrong with her.

Tilly and I have always been close, but she’s going through that rebellious teenager thing where I’m embarrassing to her. I’d like to say it didn’t hurt, but it does a little bit. Despite our ten year age gap, we were thick as thieves only six months ago. My how the tables have turned.

Tilly unlocks the door. Her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and I can tell instantly she’s been crying.

Panic hits me. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you; nothing.” She exaggerates the last word like it’s three syllables.

“Just tell me and I can make it right.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She goes to close the door on me, as if none of this is a big deal when clearly it is.

“Try me.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “You’ll just get mad.”

Okay, I’m not exactly known for my patience in this family. I like to say I’m passionate, truth be told, and I don’t let anyone walk over me or the people I care about. So if that makes me a hot-head, then so be it.

I pull her into a hug. She tries to escape, but I don’t let her. “I will never be mad at you as long as you tell me the truth.”

“I meant, you’ll be mad at the other girls, and then you’ll do something and we’ll both be in trouble.”

I frown. “Tell me and I’ll decide on if I’m gonna get mad or not.”

She shrugs. “It’s just the girls at school. They’re…” I wait for her to say the dreaded words. “They’re just being mean, it’s no big deal.”

“What do they do?”

She looks down at her feet. “Call me four-eyes and just stupid stuff. It’s annoying.”

Enough to make her cry, though.

“Have you told your teacher?”

“They don’t do it when she’s around, plus, I don’t want to be a snitch.”

I refrain from sighing. “What about Mom?”

“Mom said that I have to learn to stand on my own two feet.”

I stare at her. Then I see red. Steam rises and I feel my cheeks burn. My infamous temper starts to boil, but for now I keep it at bay. I get mad fairly easily but that’s just my nature. I can’t help it. “What?”

She shrugs. “I know she’s probably right, but they’re bigger than me, and I never think of a snappy comeback in time.”

My heart aches for her. She’s also one of the prettiest girls in school, and mean girls don’t like that as much as they don’t like intelligence. “Tell me who it is and I’ll be sure to talk to her parents, okay?”

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