My parents forced me to cook and clean all weekend for my sister’s party with 50 guests. When I asked for help, Mom laughed, “You’re the only one without a real job.” I smiled, put the dishes down, and left. One hour later, my sister called crying, “Who did you call?”

Mom. Dad. Madison. Mom again.

Then a text from Madison:

PLEASE ANSWER. MOM IS FREAKING OUT. DAD IS LOSING IT. VICTOR HALE KNOWS YOU???

I made tea.

At 6:42 p.m., Dad called from Madison’s phone.

I answered.

His voice was low and tight. “Emily. Where are you?”

“Home.”

“You need to come back immediately.”

“No.”

“Do you understand what you’ve done?”

I leaned against my kitchen counter. “I left a party.”

“You humiliated your mother.”

“No, Dad. She introduced me as unemployed help to my own boss. That was her choice.”

Silence.

Then he said, “Victor is asking questions.”

“Then answer them honestly.”

He exhaled hard. “This is not the time to be childish.”

“For once, I agree.”

I ended the call.

For the first time all weekend, my apartment was quiet.

But I knew my family.

Quiet never lasted long.