Chapter 7: Siblings by Fate

Emily and I lay side by side on the bed. I held my phone and showed her my photo album. I handed Emily my phone, our fingers brushing for a second. She scrolled slowly, her eyes wide.

The glow of the screen lit up the room. My fingers trembled a little as I scrolled through the snapshots of my old life.

It was full of pictures and videos from home: There were photos of sunrises over the pasture, selfies with Duke, and grainy videos of family bonfires. The background was always the same—ramshackle fences, patched-up barns, kids with mud on their faces.

The three new rooms my family added a few years ago; the free-range chickens, ducks, and geese out front. One photo showed my brother perched on the roof, hammer in hand, while the rest of us cheered from below. The yard was always teeming with animals, feathers and fur everywhere.

There was a cowshed and a pigpen in the yard. A short video showed calves tumbling over each other in the straw, pigs snuffling at the fence, and my sister running past with a bucket, shrieking as a rooster chased her.

A newborn calf wobbled to its feet, its mother licking it so hard it toppled over. I laughed, remembering how we all crowded around, waiting for the moment the calf would stand. My brother had tried to name it, but Mom insisted it was bad luck to name livestock.

At the base of the fence was a chicken nest with just-hatched chicks, their eyes still wet as they looked at us. Emily cooed over the chicks, zooming in on their tiny, downy heads. I could almost hear the chirping in my memory.

Duke, our dog, chased chickens and ducks around the yard, tongue hanging out, having the time of his life. There was a slow-motion video of Duke sliding through the mud, tail wagging, as my siblings cheered him on. Even the chickens looked like they were having fun.

There were apple trees in the backyard. When they were ripe, I’d pick one, rush to wash it, take a big bite, and snap a silly selfie. In one photo, I’d given myself a fake mustache with apple peel, my grin lopsided. Emily giggled, shaking her head.

There was Dad coming home from work, shovel in hand. He saw me taking pictures and grinned, giving a goofy thumbs-up. He wore a battered ball cap, always covered in dust. His smile was as bright as ever.

And Mom making me birthday noodles. I played around and got flour all over her face, so she waved the rolling pin at me. You could see the flour clouding the air, both of us laughing. My brother had just walked in, looking for snacks.

But she accidentally hit my brother, who’d just walked in. He yelped, flour in his hair. Emily covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

My brother stood there covered in flour, looking dumbfounded. My sister laughed so hard she nearly fell over, so Mom hit her too. The memory made my chest ache. I missed the chaos, the way laughter could fill a room and make everything feel right.

I burst out laughing. Emily joined in, and for a second, it felt like we were old friends instead of strangers thrown together by fate.

……

As I flipped through the photos, I explained things to Emily. She asked questions about everyone—who was who, which animals belonged to which sibling, what the holidays were like. I found myself talking more than I had in days.

She listened quietly. At first, she smiled as she looked, but then her eyes turned red. She wiped at her nose, trying to hide the tears. I realized that, for all her new wealth and comfort, she missed the kind of family I’d had.

"They look really nice."

Her voice trembled just a little. She lingered on the photos with Mom, her eyes wistful.

"Yeah, they’re all really, really good people."

I smiled, my heart twisting. I hoped she would feel at home with them, the way I always had.

"Will they like me?"

She hesitated, her confidence faltering. “I’m not good with animals… I can’t even fry an egg.”

Emily sounded nervous. I could tell she wanted to fit in, to be accepted. The same fear I felt, just on the other side of the fence.

"I can’t do chores, can’t farm, can’t raise chickens or ducks… I don’t even know how to get along with them."

She bit her lip, her voice small. I wanted to reach out and hug her.

"But you’re their daughter—that’s enough."

It came out before I could think. It was what my old mom would’ve said to me.

I couldn’t help but comfort her. I squeezed her hand, remembering every time I’d felt out of place. “They’ll love you. Trust me, you can’t be worse at chores than I was.”

And as I did, I realized I felt the same way. We were both scared, both trying to fit in. Maybe we could help each other.

"I’m a little scared," Emily said. "When summer vacation comes, can you take me back to visit them?"

Her voice was hopeful. I nodded, already imagining introducing her to Duke, to the chickens, to everything that made home feel like home.

I said yes. We smiled at each other, a silent promise passing between us. We’d face the unknown together.

We looked at each other and smiled. For the first time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, everything would work out.