They Kicked Me Out, Now They Beg Me Back

Chapter 2 A Dream About the Past

Rain started to fall just as the car pulled into the neighborhood. I dragged myself up to the apartment, didn't even bother turning on the lights—just collapsed on the couch.

Alcohol and memories churned in my stomach. Before I knew it, I'd drifted off.

Maybe because I'd run into her today, I had a dream about the past for the first time in a long while.

I was back in that house—back in the summer when I was seventeen.

Growing up, I was always the "perfect kid"—top three in my grade every year, level ten on piano, and winning awards at every speech competition.

Then there was Krystal, a year younger, with average grades, shy, always trailing behind me like a little shadow.

I felt bad for her and thought she needed extra love.

So I'd walk her through math problems she couldn't solve, split pretty hair clips my classmates gave me, and step up first whenever someone picked on her.

She'd look at me with those big, watery eyes and say, "Margaret's the best."

Everyone knew I was the one she loved and trusted the most. We were the closest sisters you could find.

Then, toward the end of my sophomore year, the best basketball player on campus stopped me after school.

Face red, he handed me a letter—every line of it dripping with that clumsy teenage crush.

I froze and didn't even think twice before shaking my head.

I didn't like him. But more importantly, I knew Krystal had liked him for a long time. Her diary was stuffed with his photos.

That night, I told her what happened. "Don't worry," I said firmly, "I'm not saying yes."

She blinked and gave me a sweet smile. "Margaret, what are you talking about? I stopped liking him ages ago."

Then she looped her arm through mine like always. "You're the most important person to me. Forever."

I believed her.

But after that day, weird things started happening.

I got angry all the time. Little things would set me off. I'd throw things, scream—sometimes even lash out at Krystal.

She'd just look at me, all hurt, but she never argued back. She'd calm me down instead.

I tried to control it. But the more I tried, the worse it got.

Then, during late-night study sessions, I'd pass out at my desk for no reason, then wake up at midnight with my homework only half done.

Next month's exam results—it was the first time I'd ever fallen out of the top ten.

I wanted to see a doctor. But Krystal stopped me.

"You're probably just too stressed." She handed me the milk I always drank at night, her voice soft. "Margaret, the SATs are right around the corner. It's normal to feel off."

But I looked in the mirror—at my tired, thinning face—and something felt wrong.

Then it happened again. I passed out during a math test. The teacher woke me up. Seeing the blank page, I decided that I had to go to the hospital.

I said, "I really need to get checked out."

"Margaret!" Krystal's voice was sharp. Then she softened it. "Can't it wait till tomorrow? It's too late today."

I shook my head and turned to go downstairs to find our parents, Nelson Gilmore and Lorraine Gilmore.

But just as I reached the stairs, I heard a scream behind me.

I watched Krystal's body tip backward—and tumble right down the steps.

"Krystal!" Nelson and Lorraine came running. Nelson helped her up. Lorraine checked her over, panicked.

Krystal looked up, her face wet with tears, and glanced at me—her lips trembling.

"What happened? What's going on?" Lorraine demanded.

I tried to go help her—but Nelson held up his hand, blocking me.

His eyes looked complicated. Disappointment pricked through me like tiny needles.

"Margaret," he said, "you've had a bad temper lately, fine. But pushing Krystal? That's too far."

I stood there, frozen.