Something Might Be Wrong With Emma

I trudge down the stairs from my bedroom. Today is no ordinary day, today is my birthday, and that means the torture will be redoubled. The only bright side was the potential for gifts, like a new dog, or a laptop.
?I don?t want to throw a joint party but I?m not sure who would show up for Amelia?s if we separated them.? The tug on my heart is barely perceptible any more. Just a slight twinge really.
?Don?t mind me, just the less favored daughter, coming through,? I announce loudly.
My old slippers slap loudly as I pose in the kitchen doorway. As usual, my parents cringe at the sight of me. I clench my fist, the smile frozen on my face.
?Happy birthday, honey! We were just making you pancakes. Why don?t you go take a shower and get ready??
?But I am ready,? I say, and I swear I can see my mom actually wince. I only thought people winced in books. Or when they pulled out a splinter.
She exchanges a look with my father. His says ?go easy, it?s her birthday? but my mom has always been bad at taking orders.
?I?ll see you later kiddo,? he says, planting a kiss on the top of my head and giving me a wink before bowing out.
?Now if you would only run a brush through that bird?s nest...? my mom mumbles, and I grunt, pulling down a mug for coffee. Before I?m able to lift the pot, I find myself pinned to the counter.
?Mom!? I yell, but she?s furiously yanking a brush through my hair. I?m unable to throw her off, so I endure the hard brushing. It wouldn?t be painful if she?d just stop pressing into my scalp so hard.
?Had enough?? I ask through gritted teeth. My mom?s hand slows, and I take advantage of the hesitation and duck around her, holding the mug of coffee I poured during my torture session. It was times like these I missed the family dog, Chester, who used to pounce on my mom when she grabbed any of us in a confused attempt to play.
?Morning, Lia.? My sister, Emma, is grinning at us from the door I just came through.
?Happy birthday, runt,? I say, cheerfully punching her in the arm. She cheerfully kicks for my knee but I?m too fast for her.
?Do I smell pancakes??
?Mom?s birthday special,? I say, sitting on one of the barstools that crowd our kitchen island. Speak of the devil, mom still hadn?t greeted her favorite daughter. I look over at her.
She?s examining the brush. ?Looking for something?? I ask. She pinches the two strands of hair caught in the bristles between her fingers, frowning. She looks from the brush, to me, and back again.
I raise an eyebrow, and look to my sister, Emma, who?s taken over pancake duty. I twirl a manicured finger next to my temple in the universal sign for ?crazy.?
By the time breakfast ends, we?re running late for our shifts. Emma and I are usually scheduled together since we have one pair of wheels between us.
A situation my sister clearly despises at this moment. Emma is drumming her nails, her arms and legs crossed as she stares out the side window.
?we?ll make it in plenty of time,? I lie. She continues her silent treatment. I slow to a stop at a red traffic light. Emma groans and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I can?t control the damn traffic.
?I?m sorry,? Emma says.
?You, sorry? I?m shocked.? I?m only half-joking. She sighs.
?I just... hate being late.?
?Sure, because someone had to be the boring sister.?
?Shut up. You know Jack works the shift right before us, and he?s always rushing out.?
?Awww, Em, that?s so cheesy and cute,? I tease, and her face flushes a deep red. She reminds me of her six year old self when she gets embarrassed like that. I look around. There?s no one coming, the light is still glaring a bright red.
?Oh, **** it.? I run the light. Much to Emma?s consternation, I stop almost immediately.
?Lia, don?t.?
There, in the road ahead of us, is a beautiful, black, skinny kitten. A mangy dog, something that might have been a blonde, terrier mix of some sort, hops on three mud-covered legs nearby. I reach a gentle hand out, and the dog hops closer, nose extended, tail wagging. The kitten is mewling, and quivers when I place it in a makeshift swaddle using my hoodie.
I open the back car door, letting the dog hop into my old, tiny, grey mom-car, and deposit the kitten into my sister?s lap. She squeals, but I ignore her protests, driving on toward our destination with our new buddies.
?I?m going to call you, Butterscotch,? I tell the dog, grinning as it pants in appreciation.
?These could be carrying diseases,? my sister says, and she?s probably right.
?I?ll get them shots.?
She glares at me.
?You thought of that just now didn?t you.? I remain silent. ?You never thought about the diseases wild animals might carry? Do you ever think ahead??
?I guess that?s why I?m lucky to have you,? I croon, poking her arm.
We arrive at the pool, and surprise surprise, Em has plenty of time to flirt with Jack. Jack cringes when he sees me, so I opt to leave them alone - My birthday gift to her I suppose. Between the animals and the life-guarding, my day flies by.
?You guys don?t think I look strange, right?? I ask the Butterscotch and the kitten, both of whom have been fed and watered. Butterscotch licks my face which I take as a positive sign.
I look in the mirror, staring at my reflection, and pull up a photo of Emma. I wonder if I?m being gaslighted, not for the first time. I turn away, jamming my phone into my pocket. It?s not worth agonizing over.
Our shift ends, but Emma wants to hang out with Jack, so I lay out, enjoying the sunlight and warmth. I fall asleep and finally wake to Butterscotch licking my hand. My sister and Jack are gone.
I had a guess.
My sister had already lost her shirt when I found them in Jack?s car.
?I am so not your chauffeur - get a ride home from lover boy.?
Emma shrieks, covering herself, but my eyes are drawn to her make out buddy. Jack looks embarrassed, but also a bit pale and sickly.
Well I wouldn?t be sharing any food or drinks with Emma for a few days.
I pack up the animals into my silver mom-Jeep, and wait one minute for Emma to stumble to the car, glaring daggers.
?You couldn?t let me finish having my fun,? she snaps.
?Grouchy horn-dog,? I chide.
That night was birthday cake and celebrating with only our family. My parents put up some resistance, but I think they were secretly pleased to have Butterscotch and Diva (the name my mom gave our kitten). They?d missed having animals since Chester. He?d died young from cancer, and it was hell to watch a dog go through that.
My mom gives me longer looks than usual at the dinner table.
?Yes?? I finally ask after she?s zoned out on my forehead for the third time. She straightens and laughs.
?Nothing, love,? she chuckles, running her fingers through my hair a few times. I sigh. It?s nice to not be fighting for once, although again, the majority of the fanfare is centered around Emma. All my carefully applied makeup is just to get my parents not to wince, and it seems I?ve succeeded. Maybe they?re right when they say teenagers have vanity issues.
The next day I take Butterscotch and Diva to the vet, prepared to pay sinfully for their shots and checkups. Both animals are in surprisingly good health all things considered, so I leave in a fairly good mood.
Emma has disappeared with Jack, and I find myself wondering about love lives. I?ve had an incredible lack of romantic attention thrown my way, which is surprising because-
I pause, Butterscotch patiently sniffing the ground around my feet and Diva purring against my ribs while I pull out my phone. I open a photo of Emma and I.
I really must be going crazy. I shut the phone off and turn my face to the sky with a deep breath. My eyes open when Butterscotch yanks my arm out from its socket by trying to chase a bird stupid enough to wander within leaping range. Diva yowls and sinks her claws into my arm, leaping on top of my shoulder for better balance.
Lucky for the bird, I?m stronger than a 40 pound mutt, but just barely.
?We need to work on our manners,? I say, wrestling the cat from my neck and taking them to the car. My phone buzzes, and I answer as I hop behind the wheel, Diva riding shotgun, and Butterscotch in the back seat.
?Okay, birthday ideas,? my dad says. ?What kind of party would you want this weekend??
?I?m okay with whatever Em wants,? I say, a studied line I?d said ever since the eighth grade.
?But you both work at the pool, I?m not sure why she wants a party there,? he says, whispering.
?It?s easy, it?s cheap, we get free snacks, I don?t know. At least she didn?t want a horse this time.?
He laughs at that. There?s a pause.
?Dad, you there??
?I?m here, princess. I just... you know it matters what you think too. I want you to have a good time at your birthday.?
At that moment, the sunlight off the tarmac makes my eyes water.
?Thanks. I really don?t mind the pool though.?
?Really??
?Pinky promise.? I rub the back of my hand against my eyes and my vision clears.
?Okay, princess. I?ll see you tonight.?
Butterscotch rests his head on my shoulder, licking my cheek. I chuckle and pat him. Diva primly stares at me from her seat, cleaning her paw. The pair of them are brimming with health compared to yesterday, it?s amazing what a bath and food can do.
I barely see Emma over the next couple days. I assume she?s being chauffeured around by her ?new fella,? as GG always said, which gives me the car to myself, so I don?t mind.
My mom has already claimed Diva as her own, and the cat sleeps in my parents room now, while Butterscotch barely leaves my side. I see Em at work, but she?s switched her schedule to work the same shifts as Jack. Jack is looking... rough.
The very all-American, athletic look only works when the man is eating.
It?s Friday, two days before our joint birthday shin-dig. I?m feeling a little confident and jaunty, because for the first time in forever, a cute boy at the pool checked me out, when I hear shouts coming from the break room.
?Look at....faces....embarrassed!?
?Unbelievable...*******!? Are fragmented sentences that leak through the walls. When I gather enough courage to enter, I find Emma crying, and a wan Jack storming out.
She looks at me through bleary eyes, and I feel my heart crack. I could never say no to her. I open my arms and she launches herself into them, shaking. She feels small in my arms. Even though we are the same size, with the same symmetrical face, the same glossy dark hair, and the same blushed lips and dark eyes, she feels small.
She whispers something muffled against my shirt. I ask her what she said. She shakes her head, tears wetting my shoulder.
?Let?s go home,? she says. I agree. We drive in silence for a long while, my concern for her only growing as she trembles in the passengers seat.
?He... cheated on me,? she finally whispers, shaking. ?With two different girls.?
I fight the urge to slam on the breaks.
?He what!??
?Please, don?t,? she says weakly, placing a soft hand on mine. She sounds so close to breaking, that I force myself to relax, loosening my death grip on the steering wheel, though I?m the one shaking now.
?That piece of-? I curse myself up a good storm, ending on something with a Koala that made Emma smile weakly. ?I?m so sorry, Em. You deserve better. You are better.?
?Thank you for saying that,? she says. I just want to lie down.
She looks sick.
My parents begin to fuss as soon as Emma comes in the house. She?s never been one to get sick before. She just wants to sleep is all she tells them. Diva is purring and rubbing her legs, as if her added attention is the answer to sickness.
Emma crawls into bed, Diva perched at her feet like a feline queen, and falls immediately asleep. Butterscotch whines at my feet as I fill my parents in on the breakup. Sleep and time will be the best medicine for her.
I sigh, giving Butterscotch a good belly rub before drifting off myself. My sister has always been the delicate one of us two. Her tender heart was easily lost and easily wounded, and I usually ran interference to block the terrors of high school dating. I always knew she would deal with this on her own one day, but I hate seeing her wounded.
When I wake the next day, her bedroom door is locked. Butterscotch lay at her door, whining. She must have opened the door at some point, because when I pass by again, Butterscotch?s wagging thud can be heard inside her room. She refuses to take any food, and my parents begin to debate canceling the party.
?Of course we could still have it for just you, Amelia. And maybe she?ll feel like coming down for half an hour if she knows you?re there,? my mom says hopefully.
I hum noncommittally.
?We?ll check on her tomorrow,? Dad says firmly, and I curse jack wherever he is.
In fact I have his number.
I grinned wickedly as the phone rings, eager to pounce, but I bite my tongue when a middle-aged woman answers and informs me that Jack must have caught whatever bug Emma has.
?More like HE gave it to her and the other two girls he cheated on her with,? I mumble after hanging up. The man was a disease.
Before I have the chance to think about it, I find myself driving around his neighborhood, looking for his car. It?s an old, chic Mercedes with a new paint job, and a shot motor. I pull up alongside, caressing the carton of eggs in my lap. I roll down my window and pelt the thing, satisfied to see the egg oozing all over the glossy paint. I drive away grinning. Screw that guy for breaking my sisters heart.
Her closed door is waiting for me when I get home, reminding me that egging his car did nothing to help my sister. Guilt washes over me in a wave, and I find myself knocking on her door.
?Em?? Silence. ?Em, can you hear me?? I try the handle but it?s locked. ?I... I just wanted to tell you I egged Jack?s car. I thought it might make you feel better....? okay, that was a lie, but hey, it would have made me feel better.
?Em?? Silence. ?Okay. Goodnight.?
I pause, thinking I hear a scratching sound, but as i stand there, the sound doesn?t repeat.
That night, I miss Butterscotch on the foot of my bed. Chester always slept in Emma?s room, and while it was an adjustment to sleep with another living thing, I found I enjoyed the company.
I drift off, dreaming of eyes and of someone standing at the foot of my bed. I can?t wake up, can?t seem to convince myself that this is a dream. I feel pinned by the silvery eyes of the shadow at the foot of my bed. They draw closer, and closer, looming in the darkness.
?Liaaaa...? comes a voice from the shadow. ?Liiiaaaa...?
Pressure slams into the center of my chest, and the great silver eyes are right above me, pushing me down, trapping me.
?Lia!? It is Emma?s voice. I suddenly jerk awake. Her face is inches from mine and I leap back with a shriek. She giggles. ?You?re so weird. Were you having a nightmare? I could NOT wake you up.?
I breathe in shaking gasps, feeling instantly better in the daylight. It takes a few moments to process that my sister is sitting in my room, glowing with health.
?You?re alright!? I say, sitting across from her.
?I know that, but thanks for telling me,? she says in the snotty way she?s used to, and a knot in my chest loosens. I lean across the bed and throw my arms around her.
?I was worried about you,? I say, surprised that I mean it. I punch her in the arm and roll away before she can retaliate. ?Did you hear me at your door yesterday??
?No,? she says, trying and failing to look like she?s not about to go for my knee.
I dance out of her reach. ?I egged Jack?s car.? Her eyes widen.
?No. Did you really??
I laugh and find myself running down the stairs with her chasing after me. My mom looks up in the kitchen and visibly flinches when she sees me. Well, it?s nice to be back to normal, I guess. She lights up at Emma?s glowing face, and this time I completely 100% don?t resent it.
?Honey, you look lovely,? she says, enveloping Emma in her arms. Emma locks eyes with me and rolls her eyes heavenward. I snort.
?Well I?m glad.? She pulls back to give Emma a once over. ?Hey, one thing, before we begin getting ready for this afternoon, I need to feed Diva, she spent a full day in your room. I didn?t hear her yowling or I would have tried to get in there to feed her earlier. Is she around??
?Oh, I?m sorry, I don?t think I?ve seen her,? Emma says, reaching for a box of cereal. ?I was pretty out of it.?
My mom blinks in surprise, but that?s all Emma remembers. My mom and I leave Emma munching on breakfast and go up to her room. There?s no sign of Diva, my mom raises her eyes to the open window above Emma?s bed and curses before going to look outside.
I remember Butterscotch slept in here, and try calling him a few times. I finally hear a tussling coming from the cracked closet. Butterscotch is lying on his side gasping. He rolls his big amber eyes up to me when I crack the door open and thumps his tail.
I pick him up gently in one of my hoodies and call my mom. ?Hey, Butterscotch isn?t looking so hot so I?m going to take him to the vet. Any sign of Diva??
?No, but I?m sure she?s nearby,? my mom says.
I pass Emma in the kitchen and calm her when she begins to panic about Butterscotch, waving her off when she offers to come. I try to ignore the building rage. She let Butterscotch into her room and clearly didn?t think to check on him even once.
I start the car. I give my mom the name and address of their vet in case... and drive off. I block two incoming calls from Emma on my way to the vet. I need to focus on not wreaking right now.
The vet noticeably cringes when she sees me; I hardly care anymore. As soon as she sees my dog, she becomes professional. Did he eat anything, had he been on medication etc. I fill her in on what I know, which is basically nothing, and they take him in letting me know I should come grab him tomorrow.
?So he?ll be okay?? I ask.
?It?s really too hard to say. We?ll know more tomorrow.?
I nod, placing a hand on Butterscotch?s big golden head. His big eyes are on me, and his tail thumps against the table.
?I?ll be back for you, buddy,? I say, kissing his nose. I remembered Chester in that moment, our old dog had looked much the same before he?d succumbed to his cancer.
I get in the car feeling heavy. I am responsible for that big ball of fluff, and this is literally all that I can do. Emma chooses that moment to call, and I remember that?s not ALL that I can do. I punch answer hard.
?Lia, I-?
?What the hell, Emma?? I snap.
?Lia, I?m so sorry,? she says, I can tell she?s holding back sobs over the phone. I don?t care.
?Not good enough. If you let Butterscotch and Diva into your room and lock the door, you are default responsible for their wellbeing. You managed to lose one of them and let the other eat something or overheat or I don?t know what!?
?I know. I shouldn?t have let them in when I was so sick. I wasn?t in the frame of mind and now whatever happens to them, it?s all m-my f-f-fault.? Here she began to cry. I couldn?t care.
?Right,? I say, and hang up. I sit in the silence of the car, at first reveling but gradually, as my emotions ebb and sadness takes the place of rage, I have to acknowledge that I couldn?t put all the blame on Emma?s shoulders. Wouldn?t I have let a dog whining at the door in? Even sick and foggy minded? Didn?t I, myself, hear scratching without investigating? If anything, wasn?t I, the clear headed one who heard distress noises, more to blame?
When I finally arrive home, and see Emma with a stoic, but tear-stained face, looking for Diva, I find I forgive her. I tell her so, and she almost breaks down again, hugging me. She doesn?t feel small in my arms this time. There is an energy to her, she really is sparkling with health.
We decide to leave a bowl of cat food on the porch for Diva, just in case.
I?m not in a ?party mood? this afternoon, but Emma is persuasive and soon I am dressed to the nines and ready to sit, staring vacantly into space for at least an hour, eating a bowl of snacks Emma brings me.
?Cool party,? Timothy, one of our school friends, says in an attempt at small talk.
?Hmph,? I say.
?I like the balloons,? he says.
?Mmhm,? I say.
?You see that was a joke.?
?Hm.?
?Wow. Usually people love my blind guy comments on party balloons bit, I see I?m going to have to try harder with you.?
?I?m not going to laugh at your ?I see? puns either.?
?Aw, why not, party pooper?? Timothy says good-naturedly.
?My dog?s in the hospital.?
?The vet??
?Correct me while I?m in pain why don?t you??
?Shoot down all my hilarious jokes why don?t you?? he counters.
?Touch?,? I say. I groan and put my head in my hands. ?I?m sorry, I?m being such an *******.?
?You really are,? Timothy says with a grin. ?But then if my dog were in the hospital, I?d freak out too.? He reaches down to pat the German shepherd at his side.
I open my eyes to find the party spinning a bit.
?How is Gale?? I ask, and Timothy begins speaking, but I?m having trouble concentrating on his words. People are shooting me side glances. ?Tim, I?m sorry I think I?m about to puke.?
Timothy?s eyebrows shoot up, and I?m already running. I avoid the crowded stalls and head for the grass outside the fenced pool area.
Before I know it, Emma?s there, her kind eyes swimming soothingly in front of me.
I wake up in bed. Emma sitting on the edge still in her swimsuit, though I?m in a pair of sweats.
?Lia, are you okay? You gave me a scare there.?
I try to smile, but my face hurts.
?I?m okay,? I playfully try and tap her arm, and without hesitation, she cracks me in the knee. Blinding colors flash across my vision, and I?m breathless with pain.
?I?m going to go back and let mom and dad know, okay? I promise I?ll bring you a slice of cake,? she says, kissing me on the cheek. She smells like lavender, is all I can think as the throbbing in my knee gradually lessens.
She must not have known how hard she hit me. Or maybe I?m more sensitive now that I?m ill. I feel wretched, and curl onto my side to try and get some sleep. I?m tormented by dreams of the same shadow at the foot of my bed, silver eyes moving closer in the blackness.
When I wake up, it?s to a cool, soothing towel placed against my temples. My mom is there, hovering over me, and I fall back into a peaceful sleep.
I wake again to find Emma sitting beside me.
?-do you think so??
?Mhm... what?? I say. Had we been talking?
?Oof, I guess you?re still out of it.? I mumble something as I drift off to sleep.
In my dream, the shadow is on me now. It slowly methodically begins to consume me, starting with my feet. I scream in pain.
Emma is at the foot of my bed with a tray in her lap.
?We made you some sandwiches. These should help keep up your strength.? Her expression is kind and her words are sincere. I can?t help thinking that earlier her who punched my knee must have been wrapped up in one of my nightmares.
I?m feeling a bit better, and I am starving. The light and filling food is just what I need. Emma stays with me, linking her arm with mine and reclining on the bed beside me.
I drift off, the shadow is there, and I wake with my stomach seizing. I stand, but my knees give out on me and I fall to the floor and puke. Emma thoughtfully cleans up the mess and helps me back into bed.
They bring news the next day that Butterscotch is doing better, but there?s still no sign of Diva.
I spend my days looking up at the sky through the window above my bed. While looking, the strangest thoughts come to me, like ?I hope Diva got away?. But what could that mean? Of course I?m devastated for my mom not being able to find her.
Emma and I are closer than ever now. It?s nice to have someone close when it feels like you?re losing your sanity. I sometimes see the shadow when I could swear that I?m awake.
?-
It?s been a few days now. I?ve been in the hospital and my recovery has been steady going, though they think I?ll need to see a physical therapist for several weeks.
They don?t know what?s wrong with me, but the cause of my sickness seems to have left.
?-
I?m in shock. I don?t know what to say. My sister is missing. We hope she?s run off with a boyfriend and will be back any day now, but I?m beginning to fear the worst.
?
I?m back home. Butterscotch and I came back on the same day. He wagged that mangy tail when he saw me. He hasn?t left my side.
Still no sign of Diva, or Emma.
My parents have been looking at me strangely. They never realized how alike we looked, and they don?t seem to wince any more.


Source.