Page 27 of Becoming Us

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We both turned. My sister stood in the doorway, wide-eyed.

My hands dropped to my sides.

Ilana’s gaze flicked to the floor, then back to me.

Guilt hit me like a wave.

All you ever do is take, take, take.

You’re an ungrateful little?—

“Noah.” My dad stood beside her, brow furrowed as his gaze dropped to the mess on the floor.

No.

I rubbed my nose. My face was wet. I scrubbed at my eyes, trying to erase any trace of it.

Our eyes met. Was he mad? Disappointed?

This is why nobody in this house can stand you.

“What—”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I blurted, turning back to her. “I won’t do it again.”

Her face softened just enough. She gave me a small, barely there nod.

“That’s okay, muñeco. Pick up the mess, won’t you?” She tilted her head with a smile. Then she turned and walked off, heels clicking down the hall.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t.

The whole room spun, and I was hyperaware of my dad and sister still watching me, stunned.

“What happened?” Dad asked.

No. Can’t do this. Push it down.

“I’m leaving.” I grabbed my phone, shoved it in my pocket, and rushed past them.

“Noah, wait—where are you going? What happened?”

I didn’t answer. Kept walking toward the front door, refusing to look back. No tears. No listening. The noise in my head was already too loud—I couldn’t take more.

Why did my chest hurt so fucking bad?

“Noah, stop.”

My hand reached for the door, but Dad caught my shoulder, stopping me.

“Stop and tell me what happened,” he said, firm but not loud.

“Nothing.”

“Illana said you and your mom were fighting. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Noah, just?—”

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