I only have a few faint memories of when I first met Tiffany. Guess that makes sense, given how young I was. Maybe. . . was around nine when she first arrived at the farm? I remember it was a particularly sweltering day. Sitting under the shade of our old apple tree on the hill, I watched as Papa’s old truck came up the road, kicking up a cloud of dust. The back of my hand brushed away my sweat as I squinted for a clearer view. I wasn’t supposed to be outside on such a blistering day.

  Should've listened to Mama and stayed indoors, but no one, not even the weather could stop me from greeting the newcomer. My parents had no clue how much I had overheard them talking about this. I had listened in silence from the top of the stairs many a night while they whispered about their plans. I was sure by now they didn’t want me to know too much about the newcomer, which of course only made my little rebel heart want to know as much as possible.

  I had never really gathered enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I had been expecting the newcomer to be a new farm animal. I was secretly hoping for a puppy. So, you can imagine my surprise when a little girl stepped out of the truck. Who was this? Why hadn’t my parents told me about this? I clenched my fists.

  I took out my anger in all the wrong ways that day, but I still think my parents could have told me a little bit about what was going to happen ahead of time. I understand this was quite a difficult and strange thing to dump on a young child all at once, but I would have liked the slightest hint of a warning at least. I looked the girl up and down. I had never seen her before. Who could she be?

  I should have noticed the similarities that we shared. Dark hair, round faces and broad shoulders. But my mind went straight to the differences, the features she had that I didn’t. All the things that I could see as alien and strange. I remember wondering why she was so pale and what she had done to become so pale. Had she never set foot outside? Was that why she was so pale? My skin had always been a deep tan. She was without a doubt the palest person I had ever seen. She stood for a moment with her back straight and her arms folded behind her back. I didn’t recognize her as one of the girls at my school. But my mind immediately flung her into that category. Neatly dressed, well-kept hair, and a dull disinterested look on her face. She looked nice; therefore, she must be stuck up. At least that was how it worked in my mind. Papa lifted a small sack out of the truck. She wasn’t going to be staying with us, was she? My heart began to race.

  “Don’t you dare,” I hissed under my breath. “You aren’t going to stay with us,” I gritted my teeth and glared down at her. For a moment a frown crossed her face, then she shivered. There was no way that she was cold on a day like this. Then, as if she had known all along, she turned and looked up the hill directly at me. I froze. I found myself shrinking back. She didn’t say anything. But she did smile at me. She had a friendly smile. She raised her hand slightly and waved. I looked away. Suddenly, I felt a wave of little shivers racing through me. How had she spotted me? I glanced back down. She was still smiling.

  The memory ends with me wincing and running down the hill. That was one of two memories of her arrival. I remember every last scrap of these memories. Yet only these two--everything else from this part of our life is a blur. Even then, at such a young age, I could see the marks of Tiffany’s life on her. The way she carried herself, the distant sad look that always seemed to be in her eyes. When I was first brought to meet her on that same day, I noticed that look but hadn’t thought about it much. I had been too angry.

  “Both of them! You’re keeping two of them?” I stamped my food on the ground and glared at Tiffany, who cradled in her arms the little baby I hadn’t seen before.

  “Yes Tyla, these girls need a home and we’re here to give them one. Look, you’ve often wished for a little brother or a sister. Now you have two sisters!” Mama said cheerily.

  “They are not my sisters! I don’t know them!” I turned to Tiffany with tears in my eyes. “I—I don’t know you! You aren’t part of my family! You don’t belong here!”

  “Tyla!” Mama said firmly. “You stop that.”

  “I’m sorry…You’re Tyla, right?” There was that smile again. “I hope we can become friends eventually if not sisters,” Tiffany said. There was pity and guilt in her eyes. Mama leaned in closer.

  “This could be good for you, Tyla. You’ve always wanted siblings. Remember all those times you complained about being an only child. Isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted siblings, and these girls wanted a home.” No. Not like this. I hated this. Everything would be different now. Sudden change was the last thing I wanted at this time.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Mama! Papa!” I was too angry to explain my emotions and there was no way I was going to admit that Mama was right.

  “We just weren’t sure how to explain this to you…we thought this would be easier.”

  “Easier! How?” My mind was filled with “yeah, buts” and “why’s” and “if only’s.” These girls weren’t my real sisters, and they never would be. They had come out of nowhere so suddenly.

  “Look, Tiffany and little Connie have been through a lot. Please try and make her feel at home,” Papa stepped in. MAKE THEM FEEL AT HOME! THIS WAS MY HOME, DANG IT!

  “I can’t t take this! I don’t want them here!” Tiffany let out a long low sigh.

  “I’m sorry.” Her apologies stung my heart. A wave of guilt filled me. The guilt only made me madder.

  “Tiffany and Connie are here to stay and that’s that,” Papa said in his “this ends here” voice. “You’ll get used to them eventually.” Just then Baby Connie burst into tears and Mama rushed to comfort her. No, no, no, what if she began to love them more than me? No! I wouldn’t allow that.

  “Please, let me,” Tiffany pulled back as Mama tried to lift Connie out of her arms. “She probably feels safer with me.”

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  “Alright, if you’re sure… poor dears,” was all Mama said before returning to her work. I waited till both Mama and Papa were busy then went back to Tiffany. She was singing quietly to her sleeping sister. I sat down next to her and smiled. Tiffany smiled back with some hesitation.

  “Hello Tiffany,” I took her hand, then bit down on her wrist as hard as I could. She didn’t flinch or scream or do anything. Then I tried pulling her hair. She just held still and looked at me. “You’re never going to be my sister and you’re never going to belong here. Do you hear me?”

  “I—I hear you,” I gritted my teeth and stormed off. The next several months a living nightmare for Tiffany, thanks to me. I was never the least bit mean to Connie though. No, even I wasn’t that nasty. But I pushed Tiffany around as much as I could. At first, I simply waited eagerly for her to do something bad that I could report, hoping to see her be punished. But Tiffany almost never did anything punishment worthy. She was always so maddeningly polite and tidy. So, I would lie, for the sole purpose of getting her in trouble. But of course, my parents didn’t trust me, so I took out most of my anger towards Tiffany physically. However, Tiffany seemed incapable of feeling any pain. The worst thing I ever did was stab her shoulder with a knitting needle.

  She winced and let out a tiny cry, that was it. Worst of all, she never told my parents anything that I did to her. Can you completely blame me for thinking she was trying to be condescending? There I go again, defending my past self.

  Just because I thought she was trying to be mean doesn’t justify all the awful things I did to her during those first few months. After a while I gave up on trying to provoke a reaction out of her. But I still didn’t go out of my way to be nice to her.

  Connie, on the other hand, I thought was just adorable. I tried to take care of Connie. But she only ever seemed happy when she was with her real sister. The sister that I could never be.

  Connie only became cuter the older she got. She went from a pale little lump that always seemed to be crying to a small round creature with huge green eyes that always seemed to be laughing at me. Then she grew bigger still and learned to crawl around. I spent so much time just watching her celebrate her tiny achievements with cheery sounds. Maybe I learned to love Tiffany mainly from Connie. Connie was happiest when she was with her sister. Tiffany knew all the ways to calm her down when she was sad, and she taught me how to hold Connie the right way. To this day I still don’t know why I was always so angry at Tiffany when I was little.

  Maybe she was just strange to me, and I didn’t like that. Maybe I though my parents loved her more than me. Maybe she reminded me too much of the girls at my school. Or maybe it was just the shock of having such a huge change happening in my life.

  I can’t help but wonder if I knew what was to come would I still have been so nasty to her during those first few months. I guess there’s no telling. Either way, I regret every little thing I did to her during that time of my life.

  I know she doesn’t hold any kind of grudge. Tiffany was never the sort of person to do that. Sometimes I wish she would. Just so I had a reason to feel bad. Maybe that was part of what made me hate her so much. Nothing bothered her. Nothing I said or did could ever truly hurt her. She never seemed to feel anything. She was just so calm and polite and perfect. The good kid, perfect daughter. Yes, that must have been it. It was only when I began to be kind to her on purpose that I saw more of her. I saw fear, anger, and above all else a weariness that seemed to haunt her constantly.

  Yet the most shocking thing was the flaws she tried so desperately to hide.

  Flaws that were vastly different from my own, but flaws, nonetheless. Every once in a while, my guilt would cause me to stop, and I would try to be her friend. I treated her the way I treated my family and close friends. I would greet her in the morning with affectionate hugs and snuggle up close to her when we sat on the couch together. But she would pull away and shrink back from me more than ever. I didn’t know what to do! Why was she being so cold to me when she knew how hard it was for me to be nice? At first, I just thought that it was her being mean to me. But the more I think about it now the more I think of how that must have come off as extremely clingy. Maybe she wasn’t used to being treated like that. But I didn’t think of that at the time. That was my way of showing people that I cared, I clung to them. It is how I treated friends, family, everyone I loved. I was used to clinging to people I loved and used to being clung to.

  One evening Mama sat me down in the living room and tried to talk to me about Tiffany.

  “I wanted a little sister who I could take care of and help learn! I—I didn’t want an older sister to boss me around and bully me!”

  “Tiffany has hardly been a bully to you, Tyla. If anything, I think you could stand to be a little bit kinder to her,” Mama said softly. I just stared at the floor and tried not to cry. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Also, Connie is still a baby. You can be her older sister,” Mama added.

  “She loves Tiffany more than me,” I grunted. Mama smiled. I knew her well enough to notice the sparks of affection and concern in her eyes that hid behind her stern mask.

  “How can you tell, Tyla?”

  “I—I just can! Alright!” My mouth slammed shut as tears filled my eyes. None of this was fair. But all my yelling got me nowhere. Nobody listened to me, no matter how loud I was. Tiffany never seemed to be the least bit affected by anything I did. Just like Abby. Abby was never upset or angry. All Abby ever did was laugh at me. I felt large warm tears stinging my eyes. “Why am I like this?” I demanded. Why does everything hurt me? Why can’t I be strong?

  “Hush,” Mama whispered as she pulled me into a hug. “Why does everything make me feel this way! Why can’t I stop!” She held me tight as I sobbed into her shoulder. Papa came over and sat down next to us. I remember taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. I remember Papa stroking my hair and saying kind words. Then I looked up and saw Tiffany peering around the corner, looking at me. Her eyes were filled with emotion, but it was an emotion that didn’t make sense to me. But it was an emotion that I had never seen on Abby’s face. That had a lasting impact on me. But I would say there were two key turning points in our relationship. The first happened later that summer. I had decided to try to be a little nicer to Tiffany. Because it was her birthday, but also because whether I liked it or not; Tiffany wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Hello!” I called to her as she headed up the path. Connie squealed happily at the sight of her sister.

  “Hello. Thanks for watching her for me,” Tiffany flopped down next to me and wiped her sweaty face with her sleeve.

  “You’re welcome.” I forced myself to make eye contact with Tiffany.

  “She keeps on coughing,” I said as Tiffany slipped Connie out of my arms.

  “I know. We’re going to take her to the doctor very soon. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. She’s been getting lots of fresh air and sunlight since coming here.”

  “Goo, ao, blah!” Connie exclaimed.

  “I think she agrees with you,” I laughed. Tiffany smiled softly and nestled Connie closer to her.

  “You like it out here, don’t you, you little goofball?” Tiffany hoisted Connie onto her back and turned to leave.

  “Wait! Before you go could I show you something?” Tiffany hesitated a look of suspicion crossed over her face.

  “I guess so, what is it?”

  “It’s an early birthday present for you,” I slipped the little book out of my pocket and handed it to her. She took it from me slowly, staring into my soul the whole time. GET OUT OF MY MIND! I wanted to scream at her. But this was “Be Nice to Tiffany Day,” so instead I simply said “It’s a photo book. All the pictures of our family since you came here. At least the ones I could find.” She began to flip through the little book, very slowly. “It was my Mama’s idea,” I admitted. Tiffany gave me a strange look “But I choose all the pictures myself!” Why was she being like this? I was trying to be kind to her! Couldn’t she see how hard that was for me? “It was really hard to find enough alright! Not to mention you “before I could get another word Tiffany was pulling me into a hug so tight that I thought I’d be ripped in two.

  “Oh, thank you Tyla! Oh, bless you little angel!” I was stunned. Needless to say, that was the first time anyone had ever called me little angel. Come to think of it I hadn’t been called that since. However, it wasn’t just that that had left me in shock and breathless. Not even the hug was to blame. It was the tears that filled her eyes. I hadn’t known Tiffany was capable of crying. Ever since that day I have been nothing but kind to Tiffany… well, more or less. I tried my best, okay. But it wasn’t until I saw Tiffany at her lowest, that I truly began to care about her. And it was only then that she finally told me her secret, the secret that would change my life forever. It’s just so sad that it took Connie dying to make me become a better person.