When Esther told Keenan that he reminded her of her son-in-law, I would've brushed it off if he weren't so awkward about it. That plus the certainty of her tone, like the resemblance was too strong to be coincidental, all made me look at him differently.

She invited us into the living room, and Mom sat between us on a three-seater while Esther went to the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea. I stare at him, his eyes locked on the little picture in his hands, and there's this feeling that I can't shake.

He's glued to the dark-brown man in the picture, his cheekbones as eye-catching as his bell pepper nose. The man's sitting on the trunk of his lowrider in jeans and a t-shirt, and a woman with a short afro is to his right. She's wearing a beige and white checkered dress with flared ridges and off-white flats.

"I put a kettle of tea on the stove," Esther says, her voice weary. My mom and I watch her walk toward the recliner beside me and her fireplace, overlooking the entryway.

She groans as she sits down, and of course, she turns her attention to Keenan. I follow her gaze, only to see him staring into space with the picture face down on his lap.

"So, what'd you mean when you said something stronger than a tree killed your cow?" We all look at her. Her eyes are narrowed, and her tone is forceful, like she's trying her hardest to put the pieces together.

Esther lifts her eyebrows for a moment, taking a deep breath and leaning further into her seat. "Well," she begins, folding her hands across her stomach. "The vet said his ribs were broken, and one punctured a lung." I lower my head. "Two kids can't do something like that, and with the hole in our yard, I can't see how they could do that." Mom nods in agreement, but she doesn't look sure. She stares at me, then her shoulders drop with a sigh. "I tell you the truth, this town hasn't been the same since my daughter died."

"What happened to her, if you don't mind me asking?" I've always wondered but never thought to ask. I know she mentioned her dying during childbirth, but I still had questions.

She turns her head to me, a faint, solemn grin appearing on her face. She says, "No, I don't mind. She had complications at the hospital, and the saddest part is that I didn't know her water broke until her husband called me to let me know she died."

What? Why would he wait until she died to say something?

"Does he still talk to you and your husband," Mom asks, and as I turn to her, I notice Keenan tensing his jaw but still not looking at us. He's staring through the window at our station wagon, the navy blue curtains pushed aside.

Esther shakes her head, then says matter-factly, "I haven't heard from Elijah in thirty-some years, Teresa. Some say he was one of them that was drafted and killed in the Vietnam War; some think he skipped town with my daughter's classmate; and others think he died the night she did." The room is silent. I don't know how to respond to any of it, so I'm sure they feel the same way. Then, she says in a low voice, "To tell you the truth, I don't care where he went. I know he had something to do with Ruth's death, and I feel like it was to get her inheritance."

Keenan jolts to his feet, and Mom flinches, placing a hand over her chest as she stares at him with a scowl. All of us are watching him, and I see his fist tight around the wallet-sized picture.

"Boy, what's the matter with you," Mom asks with a raised voice. He loosens his grip on the image, his body relaxing when he sees us. He looks at the couple in the picture, shakes his head, then walks toward Esther.

He extends it to her, staring at her with an empty expression. He looks like he has so much he wants to say, but something's holding him back, and it's making him exhausted. "I'm sorry for your loss," he simply says, but his voice is dry. Esther looks at his hand, then at him.

She furrows her eyebrows like she knows something or feels something about him, but she doesn't know what it is yet. She shakes her head and says, "Thank you, young man, but you keep it." He slowly lowers it to his side, and she cracks a small smile.

The kettle whistles and Esther raises her eyebrows as she pushes herself to her feet. She looks at all of us and says, "Stay a little longer for tea, won't 'ya?"

"Oh, I don't wanna put you out of your home." Mom forces a smile. Maybe I'm projecting, but it feels like she wants to leave but is too afraid to tell her that.

"Chil', please, you're doing me a favor by staying longer." She swats Mom's statement away like it was a fly pestering her. "Besides, some people from my sister's church had a fish fry, and we have more than enough to share."

To my surprise, she says enthusiastically, "Well, if you insist," and Keenan returns to his seat. Esther walks around him on her way to the kitchen. I look over at him again, watching him stare at the man and woman in the picture.

***

I walk through the front door with Mom. Keenan didn't want to come over no matter how much I asked, and I know he doesn't want to be bothered, but part of me thinks it's also because I'll ask him what's up with the picture he was looking at.

Regina peeks half her body out of her room and asks, "Mom, what happened?" Mom shuts the door before stepping beside me to face her.

With her arms folded and her eyes narrowed, she sternly says, "Come into the living room." Regina blinks, jerking her head back in confusion. I take a few steps to the hall before Mom yells out, "Hey, you too!" I flinch, stopping where I am and staring at Regina. Despite our silence and hatred toward each other, we can't help but narrow our eyes at Mom.

When she steps into the living room, we trudge behind her at a speed similar to hunters trying to close in on a dangerous animal or police trying to defuse a bomb. Aside from telling Keenan she'd drop him off at his house, despite me begging for him to stay over for one night, she didn't speak.

I was so caught up in my own questions about why Keenan was acting strange that I didn't think about the fact that she didn't apologize for accusing me of the cow situation. Not until now.

I sit on the loveseat facing the entryway, Mom sits on the sofa across from the TV, and Regina sits in Dad's recliner.

"I just got back from Mrs. Williams' farm," Mom says, shifting her attention from one of us to the other with that unrelenting glare. I see Regina out of the corner of my eye, staring in my direction. "And after talking to her," she stops talking to take a deep breath, and Regina looks at her again. "Gina, tell me what happened."

We look at my sister. She licks her lips, her slouched back straightening in the recliner.

"The day we went to the tailgating party, when I asked if I could go to my friend's house and you said no, I walked away before Keenan and Aunt LaToya got here." I look over at Mom, who's listening and nodding, waiting for her to rat me out. Regina turns her head to me and says, "I heard the door, so I came back to the kitchen right when she said something about them killing their cow."

"Them who?" Regina turns to her, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Leila mentioned to Keenan that the two of them killed Mr. and Mrs. Williams' cow." She drags her words as if she expects everything to make sense, as if she doesn't understand why Mom is confused.

We narrow our eyes at each other when Mom lowers her head in thought. I know she doesn't have to protect me, but watching her throw me like a lamb to wolves makes me clench my fists on my lap.

I want so badly to leap across the coffee table and fight her regardless of whether I win or lose, but the only thing that's stopping me is the few days we have left in this era; I'll be home soon.

"Okay." Mom sets her elbows on her knees and rests her forehead in her palms for a moment. She takes a deep breath, then tries to slide the exhaustion from her face from forehead to chin, but judging by the way that she says, "Something's not adding up," it doesn't help. Me and Regina glance at each other before turning to her. "Esther told me that whatever crushed her cow had to have been stronger than a tree. Leila, why would you and Keenan think that you two did it?"

I shake my head and shrug. "I didn't think I did anything." Regina rolls her eyes onto the TV's black screen. Like the one in her room, it has a large box attached to the back, but this one has a polished wood frame and dials like on a stove. "I tried to tell you she's lying."

"'ey!" I flinch when Mom yells out. She lifts a finger at me with her brows raised. "Watch your mouth."

Regina lets out this breath from her nose, an amused one, and she crosses her arms.

"Sorry," I mumble to Mom without breaking eye contact with my sister. "I tried to tell you she's not telling the truth."

"I know what I heard," she says in a flat voice, and I cut my eyes at her.

"You didn't hear anything," I argue back.

"Enough!" We quickly look at Mom, and my heart skips a beat; Her voice is so powerful that even the birds seem to stop chirping. She has this angry expression that doesn't seem to fit her.

I'd almost immediately gotten used to her and Dad. I remember them tucking me in on my first official night, telling me that they loved me and not just saying it but making me feel it. My real family never gave me that, so obviously I felt guilty for taking their child's place, but I needed it more.

My heart pounds as I allow my eyes to drift toward Regina. She has this blank face, listening to Mom yell words that I can't understand over my ears ringing, and I almost feel sorry for her; I do because she seems used to being fussed at. My hands relax as my pretend sister looks at me too, but this time, her expression softens like a parent watching a sad toddler.

"Can I go to my room?" I force myself to ask her that, and the question shoots out of my mouth almost impatiently. The room falls silent again, the three of us staring at each other with different emotions: sadness, anger, and pity.

The moment she sighs and says, "Yes, Leila," I jump up and run out of the living room, making a beeline straight to my room.

I expected a fairytale life, and yet again, I was disappointed. There's no limo dropping me off in front of the paparazzi. There's no red carpet waiting for me, along with a mob of people and cameras. I'm like Cinderella if she never made it to the castle, anticipating something a thousand times better but left with a running clock and just another messed-up family.

This wasn't even a vacation, honestly; this was a hoax.

When it's over, I can't see myself looking back at it as a fun experience because, from the beginning, it was one disaster after the next. I crushed a cow, didn't stop Keenan from killing it, and then pretended that none of it happened until I actually believed it. I was picked on by Melissa for not trying during dodgeball, then by Toni for the way that I smelled. I had to face the very woman whose cow I killed, then lie to her face about the whole thing.

This all feels like a dream—no, a nightmare—but I keep pinching myself even after shutting my door, and yet I'm still here.