Captain of the cheerleading team. Swim team. Student council. Leadership. Debate team. Soccer, basketball, track and field. Dancing, ice skating. Oh yeah, and volleyball. Doesn’t my life seem perfect? Probably, as a stereotypical “popular girl” life. However, I lack something that normal high schoolers are able to cherish. Self sacrifice. The overall idea is that if you’re not able to sacrifice, you’re selfish and shallow. It haunts me, the thought that other students are in some way better than me.
“Annabeth,” Mom squeals, “Happy Birthday! You grow up so fast! You’re already 16!” I flush with embarrassment as I inch out of my mom’s embrace. “I gotta go Mom,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, “and see you tonight!”
I practically run out of the door. With the backpack bumping my back with every step, I reach school in less than 10 minutes. Here in Miami, Florida, the schools are bigger, especially because I go to an expensive, private school, so I can always find it easily. My two best friends, Mia and Elise, walk up to my desk carrying a small box shaped like a heart. Mia is 16 years old with straight, jet black hair, and Elise is almost 16, with flowing, luscious, amber hair.
"Happy birthday, Annabeth!" Mia beams. I thank her with my signature, “I’m-so-glad-to-be-your-friend” smile; today counts as one of the happiest days of my life. I think that nothing would ever be able to make this day bad. I carefully unwrap the colorful candle-patterned wrapper, then open the box. The contents inside impress me: beautiful, fancy sparklers inside fragile, tiny glass sculptures, each with its unique design. After all, it was almost July 4th. "How… how much did you spend on me?" I stutter, staring at all the designs.
"The price doesn’t matter, because your present is worth every penny," Elise answers. Classmates greet me; some give me presents. Others give hugs, and some help carry my things and even help do my homework. I walk home with Mia and Elise, arriving at home pretty late. After dinner, Mia, Elise, and I start preparing for the party I would have in an hour. I want to tell Emily, my sister, to stay in her room when my party starts. I go to Em’s room, where I find her reading a book. I poke her arm, and she looks at me with confusion. I feel really bad, I love Emily to death, but sometimes she can be a bit childish. I tend to forget she is only twelve. I usually prefer Mia and Elise’s company over hers. I hug Em, and I don’t know how to tell her what I had planned on saying before. Instead, I ask her about her day. She still looks bewildered, but she tells me about her school day anyway. I listen politely, and I answer, telling her I need to prepare for the party, and that I would come back later. I leave, and I jog back into my room. Mia and Elise are already waiting for me there, so I get all the preparations needed for the party out of the closet.
“Annabeth?” I recognize that voice as Emily’s. I sigh, feeling a twinge of annoyance.
“What, Emily?” I ask. Hearing no answer, I turn around. I see Emily staring at me with an expectant face.
“What?” I repeat, “Are you going to answer me?”
Em looks at me and asks in a sentimental voice, “What were you really gonna ask me when you came into my room?”
I blink, surprised. Emily may only be twelve, but she obviously can put two and two together. I don’t want to lie, so I take a deep breath and answer softly, “Em, I thought of asking you to stay in your room when my party starts. Please.” I look at her, her face wiped clean of emotions, and I can see little tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “Em,” I begin, my voice thick. Emily interrupts me and hastily says, “It’s okay Annabeth. Just go back to Mia and Elise. I’m sure they’re waiting for you.” She starts walking away, and turns around, adding, “And, Annabeth, yes, I will stay in my room.”
With that, she walks back into her room and swiftly shuts the door. I watch as the only sister I have walks beyond my reach, as if disappearing from me forever. The bond that we had before changed, the bond of two sisters always united as one: no more Emily and Annabeth, Annabeth and Emily. Around five minutes before my party starts, people start trickling in. I feel amazed, really, to watch all these busy high schoolers, holding presents, parking cars, because of me. I stand by the door, greeting people. I invited the whole school, a relatively easy fit due to the four story house we have. We dance and sing, eat and drink. And I finally realize, that never once does Emily come out of her room. I do not visit Em, I decide it can wait until after the party. We enjoy a few more hours of partying until the bell rings at midnight. After everyone leaves, I sit at the dinner table in front of my mom, and we are both quiet for a few minutes. Mom finally speaks, "I heard your conversation with Emily, and I want to know why you wanted her to stay in her room. Why didn't you let her join the party?" I look down at my toes, my mouth quivering to answer. I know it’s because Emily is too childish, but instead, I sit there, saying nothing.Without waiting for her to speak, I walk upstairs and lightly shut the door. I long for the comfort of my dad, although he’s an alcoholic, I love him. He’s able to provide the comfort I need. I miss him, I wish for his long business trip to end. I call him, and he doesn’t answer. He never does anymore. That’s when the tears come. I silently cry, trying not to wake up Mom, or worse, Em. I lay on my bed, as tears stream down my face, smearing my mascara. I pull the covers over my body as I ponder over the day’s events.
Suddenly, I feel a sharp jabbing in my arm. I freeze on my bed, unmoving. I grope for what is jabbing me in the dark. It feels as if it is a piece of string that is hardened. I pull, but the string like thing springs back. I pull again, and, it springs back again. I pull as hard as I can, and I feel something break. I know I got part of it off, but not the full thing in my arm. I walk to the entrance of my room, where my light stands. I click open the switch, and what I see scares me. The bottom half body of an ant, writhing, and still fully conscious.
I scream. I drop the bottom half of the insect, and I instinctively wipe my hands on my pajamas. The other half of the ant had burrowed inside me. I sprint to my mom, and I get to her, collapsing, shaking with fear. “Mom,” I say breathlessly, “Mom. Mom. Mom. Help me. There’s a bug in me. Mom please, Mom help!” Tears start streaming down my face, and countless tears fall into my mom’s lap. She tries to hide it, but I can see my mom, wrinkling her nose in disgust, from who-knows-what. I assume it’s because Mom is terrified of bugs. She cautiously stands up and extracts the ant from my arm. She takes her hand sanitizer from the table and cleans her hands while I stand there, paralyzed with fear, still crying. She looks up, and she slowly says, “Annabeth, go back to bed. My dress is getting wet with tears. It’s just an ant,” she repeats, “A measly ant.” I stare at her, and anger surges through my veins. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself!” I say, gritting my teeth in anger, “You. Are. No. Mom.”
I stand up and stomp back to my bed, muttering curses at my mom the whole way. Once I get to my room, I lay on my bed in a fetal position, sobbing and shrieking into my pillow. I curl up in the corner of my bed, careful not to touch the area where the ant bit me. I can’t sleep. The area I allow myself to touch feels too small, the air too cold. I turn on my nightlight and reach under the mess on my desk, and I find my box from Mia and Elise, looking so small compared to the other junk on my desk. I visualize how beautiful the sparklers would look, bright splashes against my dark room. I quickly but quietly rummage through all my things, looking for a lighter that Dad left at home before he left for his business trip. I finally find one, click it, and it takes a few tries until a flame emits from the machine. Then I hold onto the bottom of the sparkler and bring the flame closer. The glass sculptures slowly ripple while changing shape but it creates an image that reflects in my mind, something I will never forget in my life, the tragic end of my once perfect family. I feel almost certain that the noise coming from the sparklers will upset my mom, which is what I want to do for a change. I can see small sparks flying off the sparkler onto my possessions, but as quickly as they came, they were gone. Maybe I should stop and listen to my judgement; I think I have annoyed Mom enough. Too late now, I think, as I watch my room light up in flames, destroying everything I have ever made or bought. Because I have so many belongings, the fire spreads fast. The roaring flames engulf me in my own rage and frustration. It all happens too fast for me to comprehend what is causing the fire. When I can think again without shuddering with fear, it is after the firemen have come, and brought Mom and I out of the house. We are safe, but a part of me feels that maybe there is one thing we are forgetting, a major thing we are forgetting. I sit up with a jolt, and I realize what has been bothering me: Em. She must still be sleeping. In the house. Alone.
I act on impulse. This could probably be my only chance to save Emily, and I can achieve self sacrifice. I sprint into the crumbling, burned house. I can hear my mom calling me, telling me the firemen would get her. I ignore her; I need this. I hear Mom giving up, following me, right on my heels. She keeps calling my name, and like a punch to the stomach, I realize that I started all of this. I follow the voices drifting from the second floor, where Emily probably is. I run upstairs, and I see her, eyes frightened, mouth open, in someone’s arms. I violently grab Emily out of the fireman’s arms, and he looks at me, shouting for me to go back outside, saying he can handle her. I blink at him, and I scream as loudly as I can. I start running again, and as I get to the first floor, I realize everyone is safe, Mom, Emily, and me, until I watch the second floor burn down. I watch the firemen frantically racing around the room, trying to fulfill their duty. I have no choice but to keep running towards the door, after all, I can’t save and help everyone. I get outside and I pry Em’s fingers from my arms. She hugs me and suddenly we’re sobbing together.
“Emmy,” I say, “I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?” I ask quietly, but she just looks at me, not answering, and she shakes her head sadly. “It was kinda mean, just… I don’t know.” She looks at me, her eyes pleading, asking me to understand. I nod and answer generously, “Of course Em, anything.” After the fourth, third, and second floor burned down, I have no doubt that all the firefighters died. I turn, and I see Mom, on the other side of the field. She suddenly spreads her arms, inviting me in for a hug. I walk gracefully to my mom, and I see that because of me, she suffered through too much trauma, watching both of her kids almost die. I assume that she will forever be incapable of acting as grown up as she always has been, her responses delayed, her intelligence crippled. I have extinguished human lives because of my impulsive behavior, and I feel responsible. I ask my mom if I can see the pocket knife she always carries around, attempting an innocent tone. She looks at me curiously, but hands me the knife anyway. I trace the patterns on the handle of the knife, and I raise it towards my chest. “I have hurt too many people,” I think, “and in order to stop ruining other people’s lives, I have to ruin mine.” My mom grabs my hand, stops me from hurting myself. I look at her, and she stares back wildly, shaking her head. Using the last of my strength, I twist around, grab the knife, and jab it into my chest. I feel myself falling, as I watch my own blood pool around me. I can hear my mom frantically calling 911 from her phone, but I already know it will be too late. I try to maintain a steady breath: in, out, in, out. I watch my sister, running towards us, and her face looks as if it has aged. She pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear, and she sits next to me. “Annabeth,” she says, her voice kind and soft, “Annabeth. Listen to me.” I nod once, and feel my heartbeat rapidly subsiding. She sighs, and she slowly says, “I’m sorry Annabeth.”
I can’t say anything, I don’t have enough breath to talk.
“Annabeth,” Emily whispers, “I forgive you.”