“You’ll have to make your own arrangements,” I said.
Her face shifted into anger so quickly it almost looked like fear.
“I can’t afford this place on my own,” she snapped.
“I know,” I said quietly. “Just like I know you’ve made no effort to find a job since you moved in.”
Her mouth opened and closed like she couldn’t believe I’d said it.
“So you’re just abandoning me,” she said, voice rising. “Leaving me homeless.”
“You’re not homeless,” I said, holding her gaze. “You can move back with Mom and Dad. You can get roommates. You can ask friends. You can get a job.”
“My own sister,” she hissed, as if the phrase was a curse.
Vanessa grabbed her phone and called our mother, like she always did when she wanted an authority figure to punish me into compliance.
Within minutes, my mother’s voice filled the room, furious.
