Chapter 3

The next morning, sunlight reached my room and fell across my body at the desk.

In the kitchen, a spatula scraped against a pan. Mom was making breakfast. The smell of butter and pancakes slipped through the crack under my door.

I used to wait for that smell.

But Mom rarely let me eat pancakes with maple syrup. She said kids who cried shouldn't have too much sugar, and Grace was allowed to have it because she'd been quiet since she was little.

Today, Mom set the plates down extra loudly.

I knew she wanted the smell to tempt me until I came out and admitted I was wrong. Before, I might really have confessed to faking sick just for half a pancake.

This time, the smell couldn't tempt me anymore.

"Has Ava come out?"

Dad sat at the table. His voice was muffled, probably because he was drinking coffee.

"No, she's still pretending." Mom put the pancakes on a plate. "I told her to write her reflection last night, and now she suddenly has patience."

Grace sat at the table and said, "Mom, she's still not out. Is she going to make everyone wait for her again?"

"Let her try. It's Christmas morning. If she still wants to ruin everyone else's morning, she can spend it alone in her room."

A little later, Grace carried her milk to my door and sniffed.

"Mom, Ava's room smells weird."

The house was too warm. My body had begun to give off a bad smell. Mom would hate me even more now.

Sure enough, Mom came over with a frown.

"Ava, what are you doing in there? Are you so desperate to make this family miserable that you're trashing your own room?"

I circled her anxiously.

"Mom, open the door and look at me. I didn't mess up the room on purpose."

My voice passed right by her.

All she cared about was that the smell had disturbed Grace's breakfast.

Mom got a towel and stuffed it under the door.

"If you like it in there so much, stay there. Don't let the smell bother your sister."

Dad set down his cup and came over.

"That smell isn't right. I'm going to look."

I flew in front of him.

Dad, open the door. I'm right by the desk.

Dad had already reached my door.

Just then, a glass shattered by the dining table.

Grace had knocked over her milk. The white liquid spilled across her skirt.

She didn't cry loudly. She only stood there with red eyes.

Dad turned at once.

"Grace, don't move. Watch out for the glass."

Mom rushed over too and wiped Grace's skirt with paper towels.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Mom will change you into something new in a minute."

I floated by the door and watched Dad turn away.

Just a little more.

If that glass of milk had not spilled, he would have found me.

That afternoon, Mom took Grace to Target for Christmas gifts. When they came back, Grace had a new dress, hair clips, and a little angel doll that could sing.

I had nothing. Not that I could use anything anymore.

As soon as Mom walked in, she smelled it again.

She covered her nose, her face twisting.

"Ava, are you trying to turn this house into a dump?"

She didn't open the door. She didn't even come closer to look.

She dragged the thick rug from the entryway and pressed it against the bottom of my door. Then she sprayed half a bottle of Christmas pine air freshener.

"If you like making trouble, do it in there. Don't stink up the house for Grace."

The smell in the living room faded a little.

Mom put the air freshener back in the cabinet, satisfied.

"That's finally better."

Grace held her new doll and leaned into Mom.

"Mom, when Ava comes out, will she break my new toy?"

Mom stroked her hair.

"Her feelings don't matter. Nobody's comforting her today."

I looked at the sealed door, and the last bit of hope in my heart slowly disappeared.

So to Mom, as long as I didn't cry, didn't make noise, and didn't bother Grace, it didn't matter much whether I was alive.

Don't worry, Mom.

I really won't bother you again.