Chapter 1 - The Drawing That Fell From Brielle’s Pocket
Heather wasn’t in the kitchen when it happened.
Warm daylight filled the bright suburban room, falling across white cabinets, the marble-topped island, and the tiled floor where Toby stood beside the counter.
He was four.
Small.
Light brown hair.
Blue T-shirt.
And completely unaware that his fourteen-year-old sister had reached the end of something she had been holding inside for months.
Brielle stood several feet away in her burgundy sweatshirt.
Her face was tight with anger.
On the counter between them sat the family cookie jar.
Toby reached toward it.
Brielle suddenly grabbed the jar.
Then hurled it straight at him.
CRASH.
The jar struck Toby in the forehead before shattering across the tile.
Cookies scattered everywhere.
Toby fell backward onto the floor.
His forehead began swelling, but he remained conscious and otherwise physically safe.
He screamed.
Brielle stared at him.
Then, instead of stopping, she bent down and snatched several cookies from the floor.
She shoved them aggressively into Toby’s face.
Crumbs covered his cheeks and mouth.
Toby cried harder.
He turned away, swatted her hand aside, then pushed her backward.
Brielle stumbled into the kitchen cabinet.
She was startled but unhurt.
That was when Heather walked in.
She stopped dead.
Broken cookie jar.
Cookies everywhere.
Toby crying on the floor.
Brielle against the cabinet.
“WHAT HAPPENED?”
Toby pointed through his tears.
“BRIELLE THREW THE JAR AT ME!”
Heather didn’t ask another question.
She crossed the kitchen.
Raised her open hand.
And slapped Brielle hard across the face.
SLAP.
Brielle dropped to the floor, clutching her reddened cheek.
As she fell, something slipped from the front pocket of her sweatshirt.
A folded piece of paper.
It landed beside the broken cookies.
Heather saw it.
Her anger paused.
She bent down.
Picked it up.
Unfolded it.
And the moment she looked at the drawing, all the rage left her face.
Brielle watched from the floor.
Silent.
Heather stared at the page as though someone had removed the air from the kitchen.
Because the picture did not show Toby hurting Brielle.
It showed something much worse.
A house.
Heather and Toby inside it.
And Brielle drawn alone outside the front door.
Under her own figure, in small handwritten words, Brielle had written:
May you like
THEY’RE A FAMILY NOW. I’M JUST THE OLD KID.
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