Chapter 1

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We are in the living room, my little sister; Mia is playing with her Barbie dolls. There are Barbie dresses all around her. Humming to herself, she says, as her Barbie, "I'll wear the sparkly purple and dress and you wear the soft peach dress."

Mallory and Jeremy are on the couch, and I'm lying on the floor, drawing.

In my picture, a girl is running in Paris in a rose-colored dress that I draw lightly colored to show that the dress is as thin as paper. I draw her sort of looking like me in a delusional hope to one day also be running around Paris in a beautiful dress! I sit up so suddenly that the colored pencils on my lap fly everywhere. I say, "Mallory, let's go to Paris for spring break!" I'm already picturing myself twirling with a croissant in my hand.

Mallory smiles her "you are so delusional" smile. "Dad will never let you!"

"He knows how stubborn I am. He'll have to let me." But it's true that my dad would laugh his head off over the idea.

Jeremy, reading my mind like he always does says, "Don't worry. I'll come with you and your dad will know that there's someone responsible there with you."

I smile at him. "Yeah! We can eat croissants and cheese for all our meals."

"We can go get the best coffee!" Jeremy adds.

"We can go on a guided tour of the Eiffel Tower!" I cheer, and Jeremy rolls his eyes at me.

"Um, there's no way we could afford that but okay," he says. He nudges Mallory. "Your sister wants to be rich."

"She is fancy," Mallory agrees.

"Really? Her?" Mia whimpers.

"Yes, me!" I frown at Mia. "You're the least likely to become rich. I will become a rich and famous artist one day, and what will make you rich, huh?"

Mia's face goes red with rage and probably a little embarrassment. "I wasn't even talking about that.  You just had to bring it up since you think you're SO good at drawing. I was talking about Paris."

I turn away from her like she doesn't exist. "You're too little to go to Paris."

She crawls over to in between Jeremy and Mallory, separating them "I'm coming, right?"

"Of course," Mallory kisses her cheek. "You and Skyler and Dad could all come."

I frown. Over Mia's big head Jeremy mouths to me, Don't worry, and I smile at him. I swear he can read my mind.

* * *

It's later that night and Jeremy is gone and Mia is asleep. So is Dad. We are in the kitchen. Mallory is at the table on her phone, and I am standing across the counter from her, mixing cookie dough. Sugar cookies for Mia whom I had hurt. Earlier, when I went in to say good night, Mia was crying in her bed and wouldn't speak to me because of what I said about how I'm most likely to become rich.

Mallory's being very quiet and suddenly, she looks up from her phone and says, "Jeremy and I broke up. After dinner."

I drop my mixer and cookie dough spills all over the kitchen. Quickly I turn it off and get a napkin.

"Skyler, you got it on my dress," she says. She hasn't been crying. She seems fine, even though I know she's not.

"You didn't have to break up," I say, assuming she was the one breaking up with him because there's no way he would break up with her. "College doesn't mean you have to be single."

"Skyler, I'm going to London." She fiddles with her necklace. "That's a really long-distance relationship. Why would I put myself, and him, through that?"

My jaw drops. "Why?! Because, Jeremy! Jeremy loves you!"

Mallory rolls her eyes at this. She thinks I'm being dramatic.

I take a spoonful of batter and pop it in my mouth. Mallory shakes her head at me disapprovingly. I ignore her.

"Jeremy loved you. And I think you loved him."

Mallory frowns and I get up and hug her. She smiles at me. "I'm okay," she says.

 I look at her in the eyes. "No, you're not. It's not too late, you know. Go over there and tell him that you changed your mind."

Mallory shakes me off of a hug. "It's done, Skyler." I let her shove me away and she turns off her phone.

"You aren't done, I promise." She shakes her head. "Wait and see, you and Jeremy will be back together." But even as I'm saying it, I know it's not true. Mallory makes up her mind and never looks back.

I wish I were more like Mallory. Because sometimes it feels like I'm always looking back.

Later, after I've washed the dishes, I go to my room. I go to my window. Jeremy's still up. 

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