My older sister never really liked me. She was cold, distant, and sometimes downright mean. She stole my toys. She tore up my homework. But after a building collapse that buried us both, everything changed. My sister suddenly became a different person. Chapter 1 My sister, Harper, is five years older than me. When Mom was giving birth to me, there were complications. Harper, just a toddler then, was terrified. She screamed and cried, yelling, "Put her back! I don't want a bad sister!" It became a family joke, but the truth was, she never really warmed up to me. We were polar opposites. I loved Barbies; she loved Power Rangers. I loved singing and dancing; she loved kickboxing and MMA. By the time I was mastering ballet, she was a black belt in Taekwondo. Naturally, I never won a fight. My parents never gave her the "you're the older sister, let her win" speech. Whenever I ran to them crying, clutching my bruised arm, they’d just shrug. "You poked the bear, kiddo. We can't help you." My "newborn protection period" expired the moment I learned to walk. I didn't get the memo, though. I kept provoking her. After countless beatings, I finally understood the hierarchy of our household: Might makes right. And Harper was the Supreme Leader. Being adaptable, I tried sucking up to her. I’d bring her water, offer to massage her shoulders. Harper would just glare at me suspiciously. "Chloe, what are you plotting?" The audacity! I was just trying to survive! However, the Supreme Leader had a weakness: Grandma. Grandma raised Harper until I was born. She always took my side. "Harper, why did you make Chloe cry again?" "You're the big sister, you need to know better." And where was seven-year-old me? Hiding behind Grandma's legs, chirping, "Yeah! Big sisters are supposed to be nice!" I was bold only because Harper wouldn't hit me in front of Grandma. Our parents knew Harper felt sidelined, so they tried to balance it out at home. They told her: "It's okay to be a kid sometimes." They told me: "Sisters should support each other. Keep taddling, and you're on your own." I was a tyrant at Grandma's house and a peasant in my own home. So, I learned quickly: apologize fast, apologize loud. Chapter 2 Harper was a vault. While I apologized at the speed of light, she kept her mouth shut tight. In third grade, we had a writing assignment: "My Hero." I thought about it for a long time and wrote about Harper. I used every fancy adjective my eight-year-old brain knew. It was basically a fan letter. When I proudly showed it to her, she ripped it in half. "Garbage. Rewrite it." I was devastated. I ran to Mom, sobbing. "Harper tore up my homework!" Mom patted my head. "It probably wasn't very good then. Ask her to help you rewrite it." "It was good! She did it on purpose!" Mom was busy. "Harper, help your sister." So Harper dragged me back to our room and shoved a giant rainbow lollipop in my mouth. She never apologized. She just bribed me into silence. And I fell for it every time. I rewrote the essay. Harper said the first one was too superficial. "You have to praise a person's character, not just their face," she lectured. Later, that torn-up essay disappeared. I assumed I lost it and asked Mom for a new notebook. Chapter 3 I had a healthy amount of fear and respect for Harper. She was ruthless, quiet, and brilliant. As much as I hated to admit it, she was a genius. Just... icy. Especially to me. We rarely had a peaceful conversation. Our biggest fight happened on my twelfth birthday. Harper was a junior in high school, swamped with AP classes and SAT prep, but she came home for the party. Mom got me a huge cake with a pink bow. Lots of friends came. I got tons of gifts. Including one from the neighbor's kid, Leo. It was an adorable teddy bear. Leo said his dad brought it back from London just for me. When Harper came home, I showed it to her. "Isn't it cute?" She glanced at it and gave a dismissive nod. That night, after the guests left, I took the bear into Harper's room. She was studying. She didn't look up. "What?" I sat on her bed, swinging my legs. "When do you go back to school?" "Tomorrow." "So soon?" I pouted. "Can't you stay?" "No." I slumped. She turned around and pulled a box from her backpack. "Happy Birthday." I froze. She rarely gave me gifts. "Open it later." "Thanks, Harper," I stammered. She looked at the bear in my arms. "Who gave you that?" "Mr. Miller next door. From London." Harper's face changed instantly. She snatched the bear, opened the window, and threw it out. We lived on the first floor, so it landed in the bushes. "Why did you do that?!" I yelled. She closed the window calmly. "Don't go get it." I ignored her. I put her gift down and ran outside. Harper followed me. The bear was in the mud. Just as I stepped into the bushes, she grabbed my arm. "I said, leave it." "Let go! It's my birthday present!" I screamed, wrestling my arm free. I don't know if I was strong or if she let go so she wouldn't hurt me. But she beat me to the bear. She picked it up and ripped its head off. She held up the ruined toy. "You still want it?" I stared in shock, then stomped my foot. "Harper! What is wrong with you?!" Mom and Dad ran out. "What's going on?" Harper didn't say a word. She walked past us and dropped the shredded bear into the dumpster. "I hate you!" I shoved her and ran to my room. My parents held a family meeting in the living room that night. "Why did you throw away her bear?" Mom asked. "I didn't like it," Harper said, face blank. I pointed at her. "See?! She's crazy!" They scolded her and told her to buy me a new one when she got a job. I went back to my room and threw a tantrum on my bed. Then I saw the box on my desk. I opened it. It was a vintage CCD digital camera. I was obsessed with photography back then. My parents' phones were full of my selfies because they wouldn't buy me a phone until middle school. I always begged to use Harper's phone. She always said, "Dream on." I never thought she remembered what I liked. That camera must have cost her months of allowance. My anger vanished. The next morning, before she left for school, I begged her to take a picture with me. She agreed on one condition. "Stay away from Mr. Miller and his family." "Okay," I promised. Two years later, the Millers moved away. That morning, as the garbage truck came, I saw a small black square fall out of the torn bear's body. It looked like a camera lens. Chapter 4 Harper went to college out of state. Mom said she was independent. Low maintenance. Grandma died when I was in eighth grade. Harper cried for days. Her eyes were swollen shut. She knelt by Grandma's grave, whispering secrets I couldn't hear. Before my high school entrance exams, I got a package from Harper. It was a plush bear, similar to the one she destroyed. And a note: [Good luck, Chloe.] I sent her a selfie with the bear. [Received!] She replied: [Good.] Still so cold.
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