Read When We Were Sisters for Free Online Page A

when the shrieking in my car reached a painful pitch. “What’s wrong with you two? Can’t you just let go of this and move on?”
    Pet, who looks enough like Robin to confirm that the hospital sent us home with the right baby, was close to sobbing. “But that’s my notebook, Daddy. Nik stole it from my desk.”
    â€œI didn’t steal it. You took it out of the supply cupboard and hid it, and I had to go into your desk to find it. But it’s not really yours, because you aren’t even using it. I need it.”
    â€œPut the damn notebook on the dashboard. Now!” I took a breath and lowered my voice. “Really? A spiral notebook is so important you’re screaming at each other? Put it on the dashboard right now, Nik.” Or else was clear.
    â€œWhatever.”
    My son’s voice is deepening. I hadn’t noticed this until yesterday, but he is moving from childhood to adolescence, and not gracefully if today is any example. He and Pet both realize they nearly lost their mother two nights ago, but neither has said a word about it to me. Instead their fighting has gotten worse, as if their mother’s brush with death was a hiccup.
    The coveted notebook thumped against the dashboard, and Nik, in the seat beside me—the death seat, according to Cecilia—folded his arms. I glanced at the notebook and understood the fight. Rock Star was emblazoned across the front.
    Cecilia again.
    I sighed and glanced at my son. While Pet resembles her mother, Nik has my dark blond hair and greenish eyes. I’m not sure where his features come from, but even at twelve, they work together nicely.
    â€œWhen we get home, we’ll flip a coin,” I said, adding when they began to protest, “Or I will dump the notebook in our recycling bin. Got it? You two decide.”
    Stony silence ensued until we were just a couple of miles from home. I broke it. “What kind of pizza do you want tonight?”
    â€œWe had pizza last night.” These days Nik has turned sullen into an art form.
    â€œWe had pizza last night because your mother is in the hospital. Remember your mother? The woman who normally cooks for you? We had pizza because she wasn’t there to cook for you yesterday, nor is she there to cook for you today. And since we live too far out of town for any other kind of delivery, we will happily eat pizza again so we can leave early enough to visit her at the hospital. Since I couldn’t get you there last night.”
    Now I was close to screeching. I let seconds pass before I spoke again. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s been a tough couple of days.”
    â€œSure. All that work and kids to take care of, too. Who could stand the pressure?”
    â€œYou’re such a turd, Nik,” Pet said from the backseat. “Leave everybody else alone, okay? Can’t you be miserable on your own?”
    â€œStop it, both of you.” I tried again. “Whether either of you has said a word about it or not, I’m sure you’re both worried about your mom.”
    â€œShe’s going to be fine. You said so,” Nik said, as if this was the most boring information in the universe.
    â€œShe is, but the whole thing is a shock. The accident. Mrs. Weinberg.” I didn’t know what else to say. Feelings are not my strong suit.
    â€œYeah, well, it’s all over and done with. Can’t we just move on?” he said in imitation of me.
    I had an inkling, just an inkling, of why parents snap and hit their children. I tried again. “I know you were there when the police called Michael—Mr. Weinberg. It must have been hard.”
    â€œYeah, that’s what you said the night it happened. It was harder for Mr. Weinberg, don’t you think? And for Channa?”
    â€œHard for everyone, Nik, of course, but especially them.”
    â€œChanna didn’t even cry,” Pet said.
    â€œShe was in shock, stupid,” Nick