She sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, her face etched with worry. "Ginny's an orphan, sweetie. Can't you just be a little kinder to her?"
Her voice was soft, but it made me feel like a villain.
I turned my back to her, pouting. "I don't want to eat anymore," I muttered, crossing my arms.
I wanted to scream that it wasn't fair. I wanted to complain and cry in her arms like a baby. I wanted to tell her how much I missed my family. But words got stuck in my throat.
Mom gently placed her hand on my back, and I felt consoled just like that.
I waited for her to say, "I'm sorry, sweetie," or "You will always be my daughter," or something. But then, we heard Ginny's cry downstairs.
My teeth clenched. Seriously? The one time I finally had Mom to myself!
Charlie's frantic voice followed. "Ginny! Oh no, did you twist your ankle? How bad is it? Let me see!" The next second, his voice rang out again, louder. "Mom! Dad!"
Mom instantly rushed out of my room, her steps loud and big.
The leftover food sat cold on my bedside table as I watched the car in the garage speed off toward the hospital.