The Luna They Never Made Room For Chapter 01

The Luna They Never Made Room For Chapter 01

After returning home from boarding school for the long break, I still have to sleep on the top bunk.

The bed is painfully narrow. I have to be careful even when I turn over, or I will hit the bedrail.

After my SATs are finally over, I push open the bedroom door again, only to find my entire bunk buried under Tammy’s things.

When I go looking for Mom, she is sitting in the living room, carefully wiping Tammy’s thermos without even looking up.

“Your sister’s health is fragile. Having these things around makes her happy. Let her use your bed to store her stuff for now. You can make do on the couch tonight.”

The couch is barely three feet long. I cannot even stretch out my legs, let alone turn over.

But that one night of “making do” eventually turns into the entire summer.

Still, I am already used to it.

Rain or shine, Mom always drives to the school gates to pick Tammy up. She never misses it, no matter the season.

When it comes to me, she always says there are too many pack matters to deal with and the family does not have the energy to look after me. That is why I am sent to boarding school starting in elementary school.

Sometimes, when I call to complain that the dorm is freezing, she only says lightly, “All your classmates can handle it. Why are you the only one who can’t?”

So when I see Tammy casually toss another luxury shopping bag onto my top bunk, something suddenly becomes clear to me.

If this family cannot even spare a bed for me, why do I keep coming back?

I open my laptop and remove every college on my application list that is close to Newmoon Pack.

I leave only the universities farthest from the pack, including the most prestigious werewolf academy of them all, Royal Fang.

I click Confirm.

For the first time, I make a decision for myself.

The moment I close my laptop, Mom’s voice comes from downstairs, “Annie, come down for dinner!”

“Coming.”

I close the laptop and walk downstairs.

At the dinner table, Tammy has her favorite lobster roll in front of her, along with a small dish of melted butter.

My plate has nothing but a sandwich.

Not a piece of lobster meat in sight. Not even a lobster shell.

Fine by me. I never liked lobster anyway.

I reach for a piece of steak, but before my fork can touch it, Mom blocks my hand and pushes the entire plate toward Tammy.

“Annie, you eat meat every day at boarding school. You don’t need this one piece. Tammy’s health isn’t as good as yours. She needs the extra nutrition.”

I look at the plate of steak and quietly pull my fork back.

Dad puts down his utensils and asks as if the thought has just occurred to him.

“How are your college applications going? Did you pick a school close to the pack? It’ll be easier for you to come home during breaks.”

I hold my spoon and answer quietly, “Yeah. I know.”

The moment I say it, Mom looks up, her brows drawing tightly together.

“Annie, what kind of attitude is that? We’ve supported you all these years, and now we can’t even ask you one simple question?”

Tammy bites down on her spoon and casually adds, “Annie’s just throwing a tantrum. Mom, maybe you should buy her a bed. Then she won’t come home and act like this every day.”

Dad sighs, trying to smooth things over.

“Annie, don’t make decisions out of spite. I’m only thinking about what’s best for you. If your school is closer to the pack, you can come home whenever you’re on break.”

I glance toward the bedroom.

I can almost see my top bunk, completely buried beneath Tammy’s things.

I curl the corner of my mouth.

Where is there even a place for me in this family anymore?

Mom, however, simply pushes another plate of chicken Parmesan toward Tammy, her voice full of impatience.

“What’s wrong with sleeping on the couch? It’s only temporary. Tammy has nowhere else to put her things, so she’s using your bed for now. As her older sister, can’t you be a little more understanding?”

I grip my fork without saying anything and lower my head to take a bite of my sandwich.

I am already used to this.

Tammy was born prematurely and has always had poor health, so everyone in this family treats her with endless care.

And because I am healthy, I am expected to be more independent and more understanding.

That is what Mom calls fairness.

After dinner, I go to the bathroom to take a shower.

I have been using the same towel for years. It has become dry and stiff, leaving a fine prickling sensation against my skin whenever I use it.

Hanging beside it is a soft cotton towel embroidered with a cute little rabbit.

It belongs to Tammy.

I cannot help reaching out to touch it. It really is soft.

Tammy’s skincare products, body wash, and shampoo are everywhere in the bathroom, all neatly arranged.

I am not allowed to touch any of them.

The last time I came home for break, I accidentally grabbed the wrong bottle of body wash, and Tammy cried for half the day.

“She lives with so many people at boarding school. Who knows what viruses and bacteria she might bring home?”

After that, Mom and Dad directly ordered me never to touch any of Tammy’s things.

I pull my hand back.

Just as I turn on the shower, Mom knocks on the door.

“Hurry up. Tammy still needs to take a bath. And keep the water temperature down. Don’t waste hot water.”

“Okay.”

My chest suddenly feels tight.

So even the little bit of hot water I use is considered a waste in this family.

I quickly finish my shower, get dressed, and return to the narrow couch in the living room.

The couch is so short that I have no choice but to curl my legs up. If I stretch them even slightly, my feet hit the coffee table.

I have fallen off this couch several times, leaving bruises on my arms and legs that keep coming back.

But this time, I do not complain.

Because I know I will be leaving soon.

And this time, I am never coming back.