No Longer Their Understudy

Chapter 2

On my twelfth birthday, my parents said they would come home early. They had already ordered the cake. I wore my new dress and leaned on the windowsill waiting, from dawn until dusk, but no one ever came.

Later, I learned that their car's brakes had failed and it crashed into another car. It was a horrific accident. When the ambulance arrived, Chloe was the only survivor at the scene.

Caleb shook off my hand in the hospital corridor. He said, "If you hadn't insisted on celebrating your birthday, Mom and Dad wouldn't have gone out to buy you a gift." Then he added, "If it weren't for you, they wouldn't have died."

That year, he was eighteen. Overnight, he became the head of the Fisher family.

He brought Chloe home after the accident and told me it was my fault she'd lost her family. He put her name on the paperwork and gave her a place to live.

I cried out, "Caleb, what about me?" I was already terrified with my parents gone.

But Caleb was bent over wiping the dust off Chloe's face, without even turning his head. He said, "You're moving to the guest room. I've put Chloe's luggage in your room."

I protested, "That's my room."

Only then did he look at me. He replied, "Chloe will live here from now on. Her parents died because of our family. What's wrong with letting her have it?"

From that day on, giving in became my destiny.

Chloe wore my clothes, carried my schoolbag, and slept in my bed. She attended the most expensive private school, moved into the Fisher family's villa, and the home I had called mine for twelve years became hers.

Everyone else thought she was the rightful young girl of the Fisher family. And the actual daughter was living in a two-hundred-square-foot rental across town, paying her own tuition out of the last of the money my parents had left me.

I relied on what little remained of the cash gifts my parents had left me to cover my tuition and school expenses.

In winter, I couldn't bear to turn on the heat. My hands and feet were covered in chilblains.

I fell ill from the cold, burning up with a fever of 104°F. Terrified, I called my brother, praying he would come help me, but he didn't pick up. I found out afterward he was on a camping trip with Chloe.

I burned up with fever all night. The next day, I dragged myself to the hospital. The nurse looked down at her form. She asked, "Family?"

I whispered, "None."

She paused for a long moment, then reached out and patted my head.

The nurse, like an older sister, took pity on me and cooked me oatmeal, peeled an egg, and urged me to learn to love myself and take care of my health. That bowl of plain oatmeal was the most comforting meal I ate all year.

At first, Mason gave Chloe the cold shoulder. When my brother brought her to gatherings, he would sit far away, never even glancing at her.

Later, when the two of us were alone, I asked him why he didn't like her. He said, "Because you haven't smiled since she arrived."

Time and again, Mason told me, "Olivia, it's not your fault." He took me to dance practice, crouching on the ground to help me tie the ribbons of my new dance shoes, winding them round and round.

He said, "When you make principal, I'll be sitting in the front row."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

I held onto those words for years. At least there was still one person in this world on my side.

But I didn't know when it started. His attitude changed. Caleb brought Chloe to gatherings more and more often, and he began playing along with her, carrying her things, and walking her home.

Later, I went to ask him. Mason sighed. He said, "Chloe is innocent too. The crash wasn't her fault. Don't take your anger out on her."

I protested, "I'm not taking my anger out on her."

Then he said gently, ruffling my hair, "Then be nicer to her. She's all alone now, just like you. You should look out for each other." He added, "Look how sensible Chloe is. Don't always be so cold toward her."

Then one night, at a company dinner, Chloe had too much to drink and Mason came to pick her up. She was draped all over him. She whined, "Mason, I can't walk anymore."

He teased, "You are such a mess."

Mason bent down to give her a piggyback, teasing her. He moved with practiced ease, as though he had done it a thousand times.

Later, when Chloe took her curtain call, he applauded from the audience, his eyes bright. That performance was supposed to be mine.

I stood in the wings watching Mason applaud someone else, the calluses on my feet rubbed raw, blood seeping into the satin. They were the pair he had given me; I couldn't bear to replace them.

When I got home, I finally asked. I asked, "Do you still remember saying you'd sit in the front row to watch me dance?"

Mason paused for a moment, then smiled and kissed me. He said, "I was too busy lately, honey. Next time for sure."

I looked at his handsome face, remembering the day he gave me those shoes, when we sat on the floor of the practice room as he bent down to tie my laces, sunlight streaming through the window and catching on his eyelashes.

He had said, "Olivia, you'll definitely stand on the greatest stage one day."

The air itself was sweet that day.

I know better now. That light was never falling on me.