Page 8 of The Rom-Commers

But now that it was happening, I couldn’t stand it.

What was she even thinking, giving up her internship?

Had I protected her too much? Had she had it too easy? Didn’t she know how awful the world was? “I’m not sure you understand what a big deal opportunities like this are,” I said. “You can’t take them for granted. The world is horrible. Chances to shine don’t just fall from the sky.”

“You hear yourself, right?” Sylvie said. “Ditto—right back at you. Do you know what a big deal Charlie Yates is? We studied him in my film theory class.”

“But you’re…” I couldn’t think of a justification. “You’reyoung.”

“You’re also young.”

“You’re full of promise.”

“You’re also full of promise.”

“But you’re—just…” I shrugged. “You’re Sylvie. You’re my Sylvie.”

“And you’re my Emma.”

I shook my head like that argument held no weight. “I can’t take your chance away from you.”

“And I can’t takeyourchance away fromyou.”

“But you’ve already said yes to your chance.”

“But your chance is bigger than mine.”

The more we argued, the more I had to pick a side. And of course, that side was always Sylvie’s. She really was my Sylvie. I’d practically raised her. Between me and Sylvie, I chose Sylvie—every time. That was a given. I didn’t know how to be her sister-slash-surrogate-mom any other way.

But Sylvie wasn’t giving up. “Guess we’ll have to flip a coin.”

“I’m not flipping a coin, Sylvie.”

Ugh. I’d created a monster. I used to win all our arguments—but now she was big enough to beat me.

“You know what?” I said. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“Too late,” Sylvie said then, looking mischievous and defiant. “I just hitSEND.”

“Youwhat?”

She shrugged like she’d won. “I sent it.”

“We weren’t done talking!”

“I was done,” Sylvie said. “You’re going to LA.”

“Write them back!” I said, grabbing at her laptop. “Say it was a mistake!”

But Sylvie clutched it to her chest. “Never!”

We were just starting to wrestle for it when our dad’s voice came through the wall. “Girls!” he called. “Quit arguing!”

Sylvie and I froze and looked at each other like,Now you woke up Dad.

Then his voice sounded again, deeper this time—resonant and decisive, like the voice of God. “We’ll discuss this in the morning like rational people,” he said, in a tone that made it final. “And then we’ll take a vote. And then”—he paused to be extra clear—“we’ll send Emma to LA.”

Three

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