“It’s a little burnt,” Stephanie says, pulling the pizza out of the oven, “but it’s edible. Probably.”

She gives you a thumbs-up. It’s hard, sometimes, to pretend everything’s okay. Sometimes she comes home with a black eye and a split lip and wants to drop to the floor, but then she sees you and knows she can’t. You’ve never given up on her, so she’s not giving up for you.

She’s your big sister; it’s what she’s meant to do.

Steph sets the pizza onto the table in front of you. Only the crust is burnt, so that’s a win in her book. The cheese is perfectly melted. And a little burnt. She ignores that.

“See, looks great,” she says, already cutting into it. The crust sounds dry, nearly snapping like wood when she brings the pizza cutter down. She’s trying. She really, truly, from the bottom of her heart, is. Steph’s just tired.

Her day’s been longer than usual. Harley Quinn’s been sighted with Mr. Freeze for reasons unknown. She’d worked well into the morning trying to figure it out before she realized she hadn’t made you anything to eat. You’re perfectly capable of doing it on your own, but she still feels responsible.

When their father had been locked up, Stephanie had you and you had her. When their mother buried herself in work, you had Stephanie and she had you. She feels like she owes it to you to not be another adult that ended up leaving.

You deserve better.