AROUND THREE'O clock, Reagan received a telephone call on the Wilson work phone from Kate.

"Wilson's Auto, how can I help you?" she said into the mouthpiece, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear as she penciled in a flowery doodle on the paper calendar spread out on the countertop.

"It's Kate. Can you please come pick me up today?"

Kate usually rode the bus to and from school unless she was able to have one of her friends drive her. The one, singular perk that Reagan had found in being the oldest sibling was that she was the only child lucky enough to have her own car. Not even Robbie would be blessed with his own set of wheels once he turned sixteen.

"I don't get off for another half hour," Reagan reasoned.

"That's fine. I'll do homework in the library."

"One of your friends can't drive you?"

Kate huffed, flustered to have to explain herself. "If you don't want to do it, just say so."

"I'll be there," Reagan agreed with a sigh, hanging up the phone before anyone could catch her in the midst of a personal call.

As the phone clicked back into place, she pushed her hand through her hair, feeling how loose it had become in her ponytail. The clump that was her bangs fell into her eyes, never capable of actually staying out of her face.

She wasn't afraid to admit that she would do anything for her little sister.

Once Reagan's day was over, she punched out her time card and grabbed her bag from beneath the counter, pulling it over her shoulder. Predictably, Tommy came out of the garage as she readied herself to leave, yanking a t-shirt over the sleeveless white top he'd worn for work.

"Wait up," he called out, quickening his pace to a jog as Reagan strode into Wilson's parking lot.

"I'm in a rush," Reagan explained, neglecting to slow down. "My sister is waiting for me at school."

Tommy eyed her with the same familiar look from earlier that day, his way of prodding her with the reminder that, in his humble opinion, she needed to widen the gap between herself and her family. Reagan rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"Don't look at me like that. It's Kate that we're talking about."

If Tommy truly claimed to know her at all, he would have understood that Kate took up her own special place in Reagan's heart. Anyone who knew Reagan would have known so simply by her behavior towards Kate. It was a kind of motherly instinct that Reagan sometimes was not even aware she had in her.

"Think about what I said, alright?" Tommy suggested, leaning down closer to Reagan's face as she slid into her car.

"About what? Abandoning my family?"

"It's not abandonment. It's getting a life of your own."

Reagan bit her tongue, staring hard into Tommy's meaningful eyes. She did her best to tell herself that the only reason he said such things was in hope that it would make her eventually date him. She attempted to believe that Tommy wasn't motivated by her actual well-being. He only cared if the potential separation from her family made her crave companionship.

But she knew, no matter what she tried to negotiate in her head, that Tommy didn't mean it in that way at all. He cared for her too much to be malicious.

"Bye Tommy," she said, enunciating those two words and pulling her car door shut. The smallest of smiles curved upon Tommy's lips as she backed out of the parking lot, driving away while he disappeared in her rearview mirror.

She could have loved him.

Her hands tightened around the curve of her steering wheel as she thought about it.

Even if she never really did depart from her family, perhaps she could find a way to fit Tommy in the picture. She'd blueprint a new set of priorities; family, job, Tommy, and going to shows and playing the drums in her spare time. Maybe it could really work.

Her heart seemed to squeeze itself inside out in rushed protest. It would be admittedly difficult, and selfish even, to force herself to love Tommy back when that was nowhere near the truth of her feelings.

Reagan shuddered. She was better off not thinking about it, not when she felt fragile enough to sway herself into decision-making that she was not ready for. So instead, she thought about Kate.

Why her sister had asked her for a ride when she had so many friends with cars, Reagan did not know. And it wasn't like Kate was a bother to any of them. She was a catch, a totally admired sweetheart within her school and beyond.

Reagan wasn't sure if Kate had always planned it out to be that way. She'd grown up beautiful, with her doe eyes and wispy little features that framed her angel's face like Renaissance art. Reagan had been told she was beautiful too, but those compliments had whooshed in and out through both of her ears like air.

Kate was the beautiful one. Reagan was anything but. She was the self-proclaimed scrappy sister whose knack for drums and record collecting automatically disassociated her from the word 'beautiful.'

Kate on the other hand, did not know any better. She'd grown up looking like a porcelain doll, and on top of that was an intellectual to boot. She thirsted for literature and science in the same way that Reagan thirsted for music. It set them apart, but Reagan was content with that. She loved her baby sister all the same, even if she was bound to be valedictorian and prom queen all wrapped into one.

As she'd grown older, Kate had naturally developed the snotty qualities that all pubescent teens go through. Reagan had grown used to her snippy remarks and venomous snubs. But even in the aftermath of those brutal few minutes of slander, Reagan could never find it in herself to be against Kate. She loved the girl with every bleeding piece of her heart, even when she felt like she had so little of it to give.

Reagan could remember being ten years old and already showing displays of leadership that would one day serve her well as she cared for her family. Kate had been six and plagued by nightmares and the fixation of still sucking on her thumb.

At night, Kate would shuffle across the minuscule width of their bedroom and slip into Reagan's bed, her thumb wedged between her lips. She'd nestle her head into Reagan's shoulder and whisper several 'I love you's' until Reagan would respond, usually groggy with sleep. And then Reagan would stroke her sister's hair until Kate was engulfed in dreams rather than nightmares, safe at her Reagan's side.

Kate had never relied on her parents to make her bad dreams go away.

That had been Reagan's job for all of Kate's life.

Reagan drove up to the front of Capital High School, the very same school that she had endured only four years earlier. She assumed that she would have had to recall the navigation of the hallways in order to get to the library, but her sister was already standing out front when she pulled up.

"You didn't stay in the library?" Reagan asked as Kate opened the door, tossing her backpack in the seat.

"I couldn't concentrate," Kate explained under her breath, entering the car and slamming the door shut. She tucked her hair behind her ear, an angry set present on her mouth.

"Was I late?" Reagan asked incredulously. She couldn't surmise any other reason as to why Kate would be upset with her.

"No," Kate replied flatly.

Reagan did not buy this response.

"I came as soon as I could," she argued. "You have to understand, I was at work . . ."

"It's not you, okay?" Kate blurted, her voice hitching with annoyance.

Reagan raised her eyebrows and exhaled through her nose. She had learned that sometimes, it was better not to acknowledge Kate when she was unhappy.

They were quiet as Reagan drove back out onto the main road and away from the high school. She went to turn up the radio, dying to hear anything else but the sound of her own voice in her head. She was surprised when Kate's hand shot out before hers could even reach the dial — but instead of blaring music, Kate snatched a pack of Marlboro cigarettes laying on the dashboard.

Reagan blinked in confusion. She watched as her sister fumbled to retrieve a cigarette from the casing, jamming it between her teeth. Kate looked around anxiously, patting down the space on either side of her.

"Do you have a lighter?" she mumbled, her eyes downcast.

Reagan made a noise of objection and plucked the cigarette from Kate's mouth, throwing it over her shoulder and into the backseat.

"Not for you, I don't!"

Kate sneered back, throwing her hands up. "Are you shitting me? You hypocrite!"

"You don't smoke!" Reagan pointed out.

Kate had once chided her for picking up the habit in high school. 'It's not good for you, I'm telling you,' a twelve-year-old Kate had once spouted off as she'd caught Reagan smoking out of their bedroom window.

"I need one right now," Kate demanded. "It's supposed to take the edge off."

At this comment, Reagan couldn't help but laugh. "Take the edge off? Who are you, James Dean?"

Kate grumbled but said nothing, tucking her face into the crook of her arm and looking out the window. Reagan stared at her, willing her to turn around and discuss her strange behavior.

"Kate," Reagan tried. She could not keep her eyes off of the road for too long.

Kate said nothing.

Regan sighed and fixed her attention back on the windshield. As much as she would have loved to know what was bothering Kate, it wasn't worth risking their lives over. Traffic was starting to pick up.

"They all went out for food," Kate suddenly said. She was still looking out the passenger window.

"What?"

"They all went out for food. My friends. That's why I didn't have a ride home."

Kate's voice was strained, a telltale sign of a lump that was no doubt building in her throat. Reagan understood her plight right away. If Kate's friends had gone out for food without her, it was definitely not because she hadn't received an invitation. Kate just didn't have the money to enjoy a late lunch with her friends.

The Abners never had money to spend frivolously. Not even for a burger, fries and shake after school.

Reagan was surprised to feel anger upon hearing Kate's confession. She had been expecting to feel sympathy, which was surely there, but the anger caught her off guard. She was mad for her sister. She was mad that she could not spend the last year of her high school experience enjoying herself with her friends.

Reagan took one hand off the wheel and placed it on Kate's knee, a simple gesture to let her know she was there and that she understood. Kate sniffed before touching her own hand against Reagan's. That touch became a squeeze, and then finally Kate was holding Reagan's hand for dear life, their fingers linked together.

They arrived at their house still holding hands, but it didn't take long for them to break apart with curiosity for what they saw sitting in their driveway. It was the one other car that the family owned besides Reagan's. The second car was traded back and forth between Richard and Kimberly depending on who was gallant enough to take the bus each day. That morning though, Rich had taken the car and should have still been at work at that time.

"What's he doing home?" Kate asked, wiping the back of her hand beneath her nose. She'd just finished crying quietly against the car window.

"I'm not sure. Got off early for once, maybe?"

"Maybe," Kate agreed absent-mindedly, placing the strap of her backpack around her shoulder and preparing to get out of the car. Reagan grabbed her hand.

"Wait," Reagan ordered. Kate turned back around, puzzled.

Reagan promptly reached into the pocket of her jeans and fished out a crumpled five dollar bill along with several ones. She shoved the wad into Kate's hand, forcing her fingers to close around the money.

"No," Kate said immediately. "I'm not taking your cash, Reagan."

"Yes," Reagan urged. "You don't have time for a job, not when you're changing the world with your oversized brain. Take it, okay? Buy yourself lunch with your friends next time."

Kate's eyes, still watery from her earlier crying, glinted with more tears. Her lower lip wobbled, but Reagan waved her hands.

"Don't cry. Or else I'll do something stupid like cry too. Just take it."

"Reagan . . ."

"It will get me out of having to pick your butt up from school. Okay?"

Both sisters smiled at each other, though Kate was cautious to accept Reagan's offer so easily. Money was a touchy subject, especially for Reagan, whose funds went to everyone else but herself. But as she'd reminded herself earlier — Kate was special.

Together, they walked up to the front door and let themselves in. Kate dropped her backpack down and wandered into the kitchen first, calling out for Kim in order to announce their arrival home. When her voice suddenly froze around their mother's name, Reagan became concerned.

She was taking her boots off when she went stock still, waiting for Kate's voice to permeate out of the kitchen again. Instead, she heard the sound of sobbing, hushed but still powerful enough to travel out into the hallway.

She's crying again? Reagan thought, wondering what had Kate bent out of shape that time.

As she walked into the kitchen, entirely ready to start comforting Kate once more, she was taken aback to find her mother and father sitting at their cramped round table. Kimberly's face was hidden in her hands, a pile of used tissues resting at her elbows. Richard was rubbing her back, a pale white look of guilt written all over his face.

Someone had quite obviously died. Or at least, that's what Reagan told herself as she took in the sight of her dismayed parents. Kate's eyes were round with panic.

"What's going on?" Reagan demanded, always the first to speak. Her mother released a sharp wail of a cry in return, pressing her face harder against the palms of her hands. Reagan looked to Richard, bewildered.

He swallowed, the motion seeming painful as he forced his vocal chords to function properly in order to explain the scene laid out before his daughters. His hand never stopped circulating in slow, soothing circles around Kimberly's back.

"It's me. I lost my job. They decided to let me go today."