Chapter Eleven
The periodic table blurs in front of me as Mrs. Patterson drones on about molecular bonding, her voice fading into background noise while my mind replays last night’s conversation with my mom and Robert.
Emma’s words from Instagram keep cycling through my head: I’ve wanted a sister my whole life.
The simple honesty of it makes my chest tight in a way that has nothing to do with my tricuspid regurgitation.
“Miss Kline, perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts on covalent bonding with the class?”
Mrs. Patterson’s sharp voice cuts through my mental fog, and I realize twenty-five pairs of eyes are staring at me. Heat crawls up my neck as I scramble for an answer to a question I didn’t hear.
“I… sorry, could you repeat the question?”
A few snickers ripple through the classroom. Mrs. Patterson’s expression suggests she’s not surprised by my inattention, but she’s not pleased about it either.
“The question was about electron sharing in covalent bonds. Page 127.”
I flip frantically through my textbook, but the words might as well be written in a foreign language. Derek, sitting two seats over, slides his notebook toward me with the answer scrawled in his messy handwriting.
“Electrons are shared equally between atoms in a covalent bond,” I read, my voice steadier than I feel.
“Correct. Try to stay with us, Miss Kline.”
The bell rings mercifully, and I shove my books into my bag with more force than necessary. Derek appears at my elbow as students file out of the classroom.
“Rough night?” he asks, shouldering his backpack.
“You could say that.”
He steers me toward an alcove near the lockers, away from the flood of students rushing to second period. “Want to talk about it?”
I glance around to make sure no one’s listening, then lean closer. “Emma contacted me. My sister. She sent me a message on Instagram last night.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “What did she say?”
“That she’s known about me for over a year. That Jeremy talks about me. That she’s wanted to reach out.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Derek, she wants to meet me. They’re thinking about visiting California for spring break.”
His face breaks into a grin. “Liv, that’s amazing. How are you feeling? How did your mom take it?”
“Like you’d expect. Panic, tears, predictions of doom.” I adjust my backpack straps. “But she’s not going to stop me from talking to Emma. She can’t, really.”
“And how do you feel about potentially meeting them?”
The bell rings, signaling we have two minutes to get to class. Derek waits patiently for my answer, ignoring the stream of students rushing past us.
“Terrified. Excited. Like I might throw up.” I attempt a laugh. “Pretty much how I felt about the cardiologist appointment, actually.”
“That turned out okay.”
“This feels bigger.”
“Because it is bigger. But that doesn’t mean it won’t turn out okay too.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Whatever happens, you’re not dealing with this alone.”
The final bell rings, sending us scrambling toward our respective classrooms. As I slip into AP English just as Mrs. Devonne starts talking about character motivations in The Great Gatsby, I can’t help but think about the irony.
Here we are, discussing Jay Gatsby’s obsession with recreating the past, while I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to build a future with people I’ve never known.
“Gatsby’s entire identity is built around a fantasy,” Mrs. Devonne says, pacing in front of the whiteboard. “He’s created this elaborate fiction about who he is and what he wants, all to recapture something that may never have been real to begin with.”
My phone buzzes against my leg. I glance around to make sure Mrs. Devonne isn’t looking, then check the message.
Emma: Good morning! Hope you’re having a good day at school. Still up for video chatting tonight?
I type back quickly: Definitely. Looking forward to it.
“Miss Kline, is there something more important than Gatsby’s relationship with Daisy that you need to attend to right now?”
I shove my phone into my bag, face burning. “No, ma’am. Sorry.”
“As I was saying, Gatsby’s problem isn’t that he loves Daisy. It’s that he’s in love with an idea of Daisy, a version of her that exists more in his imagination than in reality.”
The observation hits uncomfortably close to home. How much of my interest in Jeremy is about him as a person, and how much is about filling in the blank space where a father should be? How much of my excitement about Emma is about her specifically, versus the idea of having a sister?
Maya catches my eye from across the room and raises her eyebrows in a questioning look. I shake my head slightly, indicating I’ll fill her in later. She’s known me long enough to recognize when I’m spiraling, and she’s also known me long enough to know when to wait for me to come to her.
The rest of English passes in a blur of literary analysis that I can’t focus on. When the bell rings, Maya intercepts me at the door.
“Spill,” she says without preamble.
“Can it wait until lunch? I need to actually pay attention in calculus or I’m going to fail the quiz.”
She studies my face, taking in the dark circles under my eyes and the way I’m fidgeting with my phone. “Emergency level spilling, or regular level spilling?”
“Somewhere in between.”
“Lunch it is. But I’m holding you to that.”
Calculus is a special kind of torture when your brain is already working overtime.
I manage to take notes on derivatives, but I keep writing “Emma” in the margins without realizing it.
By the time the class ends, my notebook looks like I’m practicing writing my sister’s name instead of learning about rates of change.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Here I am, studying rates of change while my entire life is changing faster than I can keep up with.
Lunch can’t come fast enough. Maya grabs my arm the second I walk into the cafeteria and steers me toward our usual table under the palm trees. Sophie’s already there, flipping through her phone and complaining about Tyler’s latest text message crimes.
“Okay,” Maya says once we’re seated. “Talk.”
So I do. I tell her about Emma’s message, about the conversation with Mom and Robert, about the video chat we have planned for tonight.
Maya’s reactions range from excited squealing to thoughtful questions to protective concern, cycling through emotions almost as quickly as I’ve been experiencing them.
“You have a sister,” she says for the third time, like she’s trying to make it real by saying it out loud. “An actual sister who wants to know you.”
“I know. It still doesn’t feel real.”
“What does she look like? Do you have pictures?”
I show her Emma’s Instagram profile, watching Maya’s face light up as she scrolls through the photos.
“Oh my God, Liv, you two look so much alike. Look at this one,” She holds up a photo of Emma at what appears to be a school dance. “You have the exact same smile.”
Sophie leans over to look. “Wait, who is this? You never told me you had a sister.”
Maya and I exchange a glance. Sophie doesn’t know the full story about my father, just the sanitized version about him not being in my life.
“It’s complicated family stuff,” I say. “I just found out about her.”
She’s not one to pry into drama that doesn’t directly involve her.
“She’s really pretty,” Sophie says. “Are you going to meet her?”
“Maybe. They’re thinking about visiting for spring break.”
“That would be so cool.”
Maya catches my eye and I can tell she’s thinking the same thing I am, that it might not be that simple. Having a sister you’ve never met isn’t like gaining a best friend. It’s more complicated, with more potential for both joy and disappointment.
The bell rings, signaling five minutes until fifth period.
“Mr. Henderson’s class,” Maya says, gathering her trash. “Catalina discussion today.”
Right. The senior class trip to Catalina Island. It feels like a lifetime ago that I was excited about snorkeling and marine biology labs. Now I’m wondering if I should even go, with everything happening with Emma.
Mr. Henderson’s classroom buzzes with energy as students file in. There’s a palpable excitement in the air that I recognize from past class trips, that anticipatory joy that comes with sanctioned escape from routine.
“All right, settle down,” Mr. Henderson calls over the chatter. “I know you’re excited about Catalina, but we need to go over some final details.”
He pulls up a presentation on the smartboard showing photos of the island, pristine beaches, crystal-clear water, the marine biology research station where we’ll be staying. The images should make me excited, but instead I feel oddly detached from it all.
“The boat leaves Long Beach at 8 AM sharp,” Mr. Henderson continues. “If you’re not there, you don’t go. No exceptions. We’ll arrive at Avalon around 10:30, then take a bus to the research station.”
Sophie raises her hand. “What about roommate assignments?”
“I’ll be posting those this afternoon.”
Maya leans over and whispers, “Please tell me we’re in the same cabin.”
I hope so too, though part of me wonders if I’ll be good company right now. My head is so full of Emma and Jeremy and family complications that I’m not sure I can muster the enthusiasm this trip deserves.
“The marine biology component includes tide pool exploration, underwater observation sessions, and data collection for your final projects,” Mr. Henderson says. “This isn’t just a fun trip; you’ll be doing real scientific work.”
Derek, sitting a few rows ahead of me, turns around and grins. “Think you can handle identifying sea anemones while you’re processing family drama?”
His whispered comment makes me smile for the first time all day. “Multitasking is my specialty.”
“We’ll also have evening programs,” Mr. Henderson continues. “Night hikes, campfire discussions, and a talent show the last night.”
“A talent show?” Sophie practically bounces in her seat. “I’m definitely doing a dance routine.”
“The weather forecast looks perfect,” Mr. Henderson says, clicking to a slide showing sunny skies and calm seas. “Highs in the mid-seventies, light winds. Ideal conditions for all our planned activities.”
“When do we leave?” someone calls out.
“One week from today. That gives you time to finish your preparation packets and gather your gear.” He gestures to a stack of papers on his desk. “Make sure you pick up your final information sheet before you leave. It has everything from the packing list to emergency contact procedures.”
As class winds down, students cluster around Mr. Henderson’s desk to grab their information sheets and ask last-minute questions. I hang back, watching the excitement and camaraderie, trying to figure out how I feel about spending three days away from home right now.
“You okay?” Maya asks, appearing at my elbow.
“Just thinking about timing. A lot is happening at home right now.”
“Give yourself some space to process everything without the immediate pressure of family drama.”
She has a point. Three days of focusing on marine biology and hanging out with friends might be exactly what I need. Or it might be three days of missing important developments with Emma while I’m stuck on an island without cell service.
Derek joins us as we file out of the classroom. “Excited about Catalina?”
“Getting there,” I say. “Are you rooming with the usual suspects?”
“Not sure yet. What about you?”
“Hopefully Maya, Sophie, and whoever else Mr. Henderson assigns to keep us in line.”
We walk toward the parking lot together, and I notice other students are already making plans, comparing packing lists, discussing what snacks to bring, speculating about which marine life they’ll see.
“You know what?” I say, making a decision. “I’m going to enjoy this trip. Whatever’s happening with Emma can wait a few days.”
Maya beams. “Good. You deserve some normal teenage fun.”
Derek nods in agreement. “Plus, marine biology beats family drama any day.”
“We’ll see about that,” I say, but I’m smiling as I say it.
As we reach our cars, Maya pulls me aside. “When are you video chatting with Emma?”
“Tonight. After dinner.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Terrified,” I admit. “What if we don’t have anything in common?
“I guess we’ll find out,” I say.
“Text me after, okay? I want to hear how it goes.”
“Of course.”
Derek walks over to give me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Remember that you’re awesome and anyone would be lucky to have you as a sister.”
“Thanks,” I say, and mean it. “See you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early. Try to get some sleep.”