Chapter 3 - The Unraveling of a Lie
My mother had broken through the kitchen window, hearing the commotion.
She ran onto the patio, her face pale, her eyes darting between Olivia’s horrified expression and my ruined skin.
"Harper, stop this!" she cried, her voice high and desperate.
"It’s not what it looks like!"
I didn't turn toward her.
I held the microphone out toward her, inviting her to explain.
"Tell them, Mom," I said.
"Tell them why you bought Olivia the clothes that cover her skin while you left me to find mine in the bargain bin."
"Tell them why you never hugged me after the fire."
The crowd stepped back.
The social order of our high school, the hierarchy that Olivia had ruled with such cruel precision, was dissolving.
"It was an accident," my mother whispered to the crowd, but her voice was weak.
"We just wanted to move on."
"Move on?" I repeated.
"You didn't move on."
"You erased me."
I walked toward my sister and knelt in front of her.
She was trembling violently.
"You thought I was jealous of your life," I said, my voice softening.
"You thought I hated you because you were pretty."
"But I was never jealous of your bikini or your popularity."
"I was jealous of the fact that you were allowed to be happy."
"You were allowed to walk into a room and be loved because I carried the price of your survival."
Olivia grabbed my arm, her fingers brushing against a jagged ridge of scar tissue.
She didn't pull away.
She shivered.
"I didn't know," she whispered.
"I thought... I thought you were just mean."
"I was never mean," I said.
"I was just hurt."
I stood up, leaving the microphone on the concrete.
The backyard was a scene of wreckage.
Not from the barbecue, but from the truth.
The senior class of our high school was watching, their faces reflecting the horror of a secret that had lived in our family’s basement for years.
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The "Golden Child" was no longer golden.
She was just a girl who had been spared the fire, only to be consumed by the lies that grew in its aftermath.
