“Stop it. Stop it right now!”
Sam grabbed the phone from my clammy hands and held it over her head in a grand assertion of authority.
“But-” I pleaded.
“No.” Dramatically, Sam threw it across the room, where it landed with a feeble thump on the rug. I flinched.
“Calling him shows weakness!” She sat down on my bed and massaged her temples in frustration.
“Why do I have to tell you this? Zach’s a great guy, but, listen carefully,” she grabbed my wrists, forcing me to look into her hazel eyes. Hazel eyes the same shape and color as our mother’s had been; powerful eyes that demanded submission. Hazel eyes that seemed invincible, eternal and all-knowing.
“ZACH DOESN’T LIKE YOU!” She shouted, each word enunciated to feel like a slap in my face.
She let go of my wrists and stood up, facing away from me. I didn’t speak, staring angrily at my oxfords. My eyes began to water.
It wasn’t my sister’s harshness that got me; it was the truth in her words.
Finally, in a low, shaky voice, I broke the silence.
“I know.”