The glass of the frame was cracked across our faces.

“Chloe, please,” Mother said, reaching out a hand. “Let us talk about this inside.”

“Do not touch me,” Chloe screamed.

The sound was raw, scraping through the quiet backyard.

Down by the hedge, a group of our classmates stopped talking and turned to stare.

Chloe did not seem to care who was watching.

She walked toward Father, her bare feet slapping against the hot stone.

“You told me she fell,” Chloe said, pointing a trembling finger at me.

“Chloe, it was an accident,” Father said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. “Go to your room.”

“No!” she shrieked, stepping right into his space.

“You lied to me every single day of my life,” she said.

“We did it to protect you,” Mother sobbed, taking a step toward her. “To protect both of you.”

“Protect me?” Chloe laughed, a high, hysterical sound that made my skin prickle.

“I got the private schools,” Chloe said. “I got the trips to Europe.”

She looked down at her own unmarked arms and then at me.