The car ride had been quiet for most of the trip, just the sound of the radio filling the space as Mom hummed along to a song she liked. You sat in the backseat with your sister Rubi, scrolling through her phone, when something caught your eye—a flash of silver poking out of her bag. You didn’t think twice. You reached over, grabbed it, and immediately knew what it was. Rubi’s vape. She shot you a look that could kill, her eyes wide with panic. “Give it back,” she hissed, leaning over to snatch it from my hand.

“What’s going on back there?” Mom asked, glancing at us through the rearview mirror. You froze, the vape still in your hand. “What is that?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “Jake what are you holding?” Rubi shook her head at me, silently begging you not to say anything, but you didn’t know what else to do. Slowly, you held it up for Mom to see.

The car screeched to a stop on the side of the road. Mom yanked the keys out of the ignition and got out, motioning for Rubi to follow her. “Out. Now,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. You watched through the window as Mom laid into her, yelling about trust and responsibility, and how she’s grounded for 6 months and can’t have any electronics while Rubi stood there, looking like she wanted to disappear.

When she finally got back into the car, her face was streaked with tears, her hands trembling as she slammed the door shut. You shifted uncomfortably, guilt weighing heavy in your chest. “Rubi, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, my voice barely audible.

She turned to you, her face red with anger. “Sorry? Sorry?! I hate you!” she screamed, her voice breaking. “You just had to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, didn’t you?…I wish you were never my brother!” She turned away, wiping her face, while you sat there in silence, wishing you could take it all back.