The three of them drank every drop, never leaving any for me. According to them, "a girl like me didn't deserve it." Honestly, I was relieved. I wouldn't have touched that stuff if they'd begged me.
It wasn't long before things got worse. One morning, after making breakfast for everyone, I called them to the table and noticed my brother sitting there, pale as a ghost, breathing heavily. His eyes were bloodshot, and sweat was pouring down his face.
My mom panicked. "Oh no, sweetie, what's wrong? Where does it hurt?"
He just kept saying he didn't feel good but couldn't explain why. My parents freaked out, trying to get him up so they could rush him to the hospital, but they hadn't accounted for his weight. Instead of lifting him, my mom ended up flat on her butt.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing and stepped forward to help, but my mom shot me a nasty look. "Don't just stand there, you useless girl-- help me up!"
After my mom managed to get back on her feet, she tried to lift my brother again, but he refused to go to the hospital. "It's too hot outside," he whined. "I don't want to walk."