Chapter 1

The email arrived at 3:07 PM. "SAT Scores Now Available."

My hands shook as I clicked the link.

A wave of dizziness hit me, but it was the good kind. Top percentile. Numbers that screamed Ivy League.

For a moment, just a moment, I let myself dream. Escape.

At dinner, the smell of Mom's pot roast usually made me happy. Tonight, it sat heavy in the air.

Jessica, my cousin, picked at her food, her face a mask of quiet disappointment. She'd bombed her mock university interview earlier.

I tried to keep my own news contained, but a small smile must have escaped.

Dad's fork clattered onto his plate.

"Something funny, Emily?"

His voice was low, dangerous.

"No, Dad. Just..."

"Just what? Jessica's having a hard time, and you're grinning like an idiot?"

Mom chimed in, her tone sharp. "Honestly, Emily. A little sensitivity wouldn't kill you. Your cousin is stressed about her future."

Jessica looked up, her eyes glistening. "It's okay, Aunt May, Uncle Tom. I'm fine."

She was always "fine." Always the martyr.

"No, it's not okay, sweetie," Dad said, his gaze fixed on me. "Some people just don't understand family."

He stood up. "You need to think about your attitude, Emily. Go down to the basement storage. Reflect."

The basement.

Dusty, crammed with old furniture, and always, always stuffy.

My asthma. He knew about my severe asthma.

"Tom, maybe that's a bit much," Mom started, a flicker of something in her eyes.

But Jessica, ever helpful, said, "Oh, I was down there earlier looking for an old board game. It's not too bad. I even propped open that little window by the old furnace a crack."

A lie. I knew it. But they wouldn't.

Dad's face hardened. "Go."

The heavy door thudded shut behind me, the click of the lock echoing in the stale air.

Upstairs, I heard their voices, lighter now.

"The summer program at State will be perfect for you, Jess. We can drive up next week, check out some apartments." That was Dad.

"And we'll get you that new laptop you wanted for your application essays," Mom added.

They were planning a trip. For Jessica.

The air in the basement was thick. Dust motes danced in the single, dim bulb's light. The old gas boiler in the corner radiated a surprising amount of heat, even in early summer.

My chest began to tighten. A familiar, dreaded sensation.

I banged on the door. "Dad! Mom! It's really hot down here! I can't..."

Silence.

Then, the faint sound of their laughter.

I pounded harder. "Please! I need my inhaler!"

The only reply was the rumble of the garage door opening, then the sound of their car starting.

They were leaving.

They were actually leaving.

The heat was oppressive. Sweat pricked my skin. My breathing grew shallow, each inhale a struggle.

I stumbled towards the small, grimy window Jessica mentioned. It was stuffed shut with old newspapers, wedged in tightly.

She'd blocked it.

My eyes burned. Not just from the dust.

Before Jessica came to live with us, after her parents died, things were... different.

Dad used to call me his "star." Mom would bake my favorite cookies "just because."

My small bedroom, the one with the good light, became Jessica's because she "needed more space for her things." My art supplies were relegated to boxes in this very basement.

The family photos on the mantelpiece, the ones with me grinning between Mom and Dad, were slowly replaced by ones featuring Jessica, her smile sweet and placid.

Even my dog, Buster, a scruffy terrier I'd had since I was ten, was given away. "Jessica's terribly allergic, dear," Mom had said, not meeting my eyes.

Jessica never sneezed once around him. She just didn't like him.

Now, they were gone. And I was here.

Wheezing, fighting for every scrap of air in the suffocating darkness.