The Family Photo That Didn’t Have Me In It Chapter 01

The Family Photo That Didn’t Have Me In It Chapter 01

It was freshman move-in day at State University, and my dad stopped us right in front of the main campus gates.

“Rowan, take a family portrait for us,” he said, gesturing toward the entrance. “Make sure you get the school gates in the frame!”

I pulled out my phone, stepping back half a step to find the perfect angle out of sheer habit.

Through the viewfinder, my parents stood on either side of Skyler, their hands forming a coordinated heart shape around her while Garrett busied himself adjusting the hem of her dress.

Julian stood just behind her, flashing a bright smile and holding up a peace sign over her head.

Like always, nobody noticed that I was missing from the family portrait.

But right as I brought the camera into focus, my phone screen suddenly glitched and jumped over to a note in my memo app.

The timestamp at the bottom was dated five years into the future.

[I’m dying, and they all say this is what I owe my sister.

The day she drove drunk and killed someone, my parents got me wasted and shoved me into the driver’s seat, and Julian committed perjury to seal my fate.

Rowan Sterling, don’t be so stupid in your next life. Walking on eggshells will never win you their love.]

The afternoon sun was blinding, but a sudden icy chill swept through my veins.

Just because I was born healthy and strong while Skyler came into the world frail and weak, everyone had spent the last eighteen years acting like I owed her my life.

Even a simple umbrella had to be handed over, competition spots given up, and even my college applications and major choice had to be sacrificed for her sake.

I used to think that if I was just well-behaved enough, they would eventually love me a little bit.

But I was nothing more than a convenient scapegoat, ready to be slaughtered for Skyler at any moment.

“Rowan, hurry up and take the picture,” Julian urged, his voice laced with impatience. “The sun is brutal today, and Skyler is going to get sunburned!”

I pressed the shutter, forwarded the flawless photo into the family group chat, and immediately logged into the university’s academic portal.

Without a second thought, I digitally signed and submitted my application to transfer to the Far North Campus.

If they wanted to keep their precious star revolving around them, then I, the speck of dust, would find my own place to settle.

******

Julian took a quick look at the photo on his phone, his eyes lighting up with approval.

“The gates and the hem of Skyler’s dress look perfect, and you caught the light beautifully,” he said. “With these skills, Rowan, you could honestly be a professional photographer.”

My mom chimed in with her own praise while Julian smoothly took the sun umbrella from Skyler’s hands to shield her.

In that perfectly composed frame, not a single person seemed to realize that the girl holding the camera wasn’t in the picture.

Mom wiped the sweat from Skyler’s forehead with a tissue, her voice brimming with tenderness.

“This heat is killer. Our little Skyler has such delicate skin, she turns red so easily. Let’s get to the dorms and turn on the AC.”

Garrett had already hoisted Skyler’s massive suitcase, marching ahead of the group.

I silently pocketed my phone, grabbed the handle of my own bag, and trailed behind them.

At the freshman housing desk, the resident advisor checked our IDs against her roster.

“Skyler Sterling, Room 302. Standard quad.”

She then looked up, her eyes widening slightly. “Rowan Sterling? You’re one of the top ten state scholars this year, right? The university pulled strings to get you a private studio on the top floor, Room 701.”

The RA slid two different keys across the counter.

“Wow,” Skyler murmured, her eyes shining as her voice dropped into a crestfallen whisper. “I’m so jealous Rowan gets her own place. It’s my own fault for being so useless. If only I were as smart as her.”

Right on cue, my mom looked at the single-occupancy key in my hand and wrapped her fingers warmly around my wrist.

“Rowan, honey, you’ve always been so independent. You can take care of yourself no matter where you go.”

She glanced over at Skyler before looking back at me. “But your sister can’t. She’s too fragile for a quad. All those roommates will drive her crazy.”

Dad clapped a heavy, approving hand onto my shoulder.

“She’s right, Rowan. You’ve always been the mature, understanding one.”

“Just think of it as looking out for your sister and let her have the studio, okay? We know you’re a good girl.”

They spoke as if they were listing Skyler’s flaws, yet their tone was dripping with pure adoration.

Because I was mature, I was expected to suffer.

Because I was understanding, I was obligated to back down.

Skyler bit her lower lip, gently tugging at Mom’s shirt.

“Dad, Mom, forget it,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just take some sleeping pills regularly, and I should be able to get through the day.”

Garrett immediately frowned, shooting a sharp look in my direction.

“Rowan, look how much your sister considers your feelings. Do you really have the heart to watch her pop sleeping pills every day?”

Before I could say a word, Mom slipped the studio key out of my open hand.

I stared at my empty palm, my fingertips tingling with a sudden numbness.

The night before the state exams, I was the one running a high fever.

But to keep from disrupting Skyler’s study routine, my parents had locked me inside the hallway closet so I wouldn’t pass the bug to her.

Delirious and burning up, I had survived that night by forcing down cold tap water entirely on my own.

And now, the academic honors I had nearly died to secure were nothing more than a bargaining chip for them to show how much they pitied Skyler.

My backpack suddenly felt like it was loaded with concrete, weighing down my shoulders until it was hard to breathe.

“Rowan?” Julian prompted softly from the side. “You’ve always been the best sister. You wouldn’t make things difficult for your parents over something this small, right?”

I met Julian’s gentle yet entirely unyielding gaze, a bitter ache rising in the back of my throat.

When I was eight years old, Garrett had pushed me down, scraping my knee down to the bone.

As I sat crying alone in the corner of the yard, Julian had walked over, wrapped his handkerchief around the wound, and popped a peppermint into my mouth.

“You’re such a good girl, Rowan,” he had said back then. “I’ll protect you from now on.”

But somewhere along the way, his version of protection had turned into using the phrase “good girl” as a weapon to force my surrender.