Despite my protests, Mom and Dad made me go to sleep at my usual 9:30 bedtime-before Tracey came home. Reluctantly, I finished my dinner and had an ice cream bar for dessert, took a shower, got into pajamas, brushed my teeth, took some medicine, than got into bed. I know some kids like to read or have their parents tuck them in, but that just gets me bored and distracted. I don't like for things to draw on longer than they need to. I'm excited to get to sleep so that I can wake up and get the blood flowing again. Because I'm so patient. Usually, since I spend most of my days up and about, I'm out like a light. But not this time.

I already slept today, so I'm not tired. Tracey's still not back, and I've been laying here, staring at the ceiling, painted a pale blue shade, for two hours. I lean over and check my clock, sitting on the bedside table. Almost 11:30. She's going to be grounded for life! If she ever comes home, I think, starting to panick. No. I close my eyes and tight and take deep breaths, in and out. Calm down.

I breathe in and out, heavily and sharply, and feel my pounding heart begin to calm down. Suddenly, I hear the door beeping again, and I jolt upright. Oh. Oh! Tracey is back!

I can't miss out on this. Quickly and quietly, I slip out of my room and halfway down the stairs, a position that gives me a perfect view of the mudroom. Tracey's hair is messy and loose and she's flushed bright red and sweating. She seems almost half asleep as she takes off her furry white-and-brown coat and slips off her black, high-heeled boots. I nearly gasp at the state of her clothing.

Her short, sparkling silver dress is dripping with stains, the skirt is ruffled, and the sleeves are torn. Over that, she's wearing a deep purple sweater with pointy, fake diamonds sticking out of the shoulders. I don't recognize that sweater. She has on several necklaces that seem to drag her down, and her tights are torn at too many seams to count. Whatever Tracey was doing tonight, it was trouble. My heart begins to rattle in my chest.

I hear Mom's voice from across the hall. "Tracey!" She shouts, and comes storming in. She's also bright red, but when she sees Tracey, her eyes widen with major concern and fury. Smoke seems to be erupting from her ears and her face snarls into a terrifying expression. I've never seen Mom this angry, and I back up a step. It could be almost comical if it weren't so terrifying. Tracey just smiles wearily.

I can't hear what she mutters, but Mom explodes. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING OUT THERE?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT A HEART ATTACK YOU GAVE US?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH TROUBLE YOU'RE IN?! YOU WERE OUT FOR EIGHT HOURS, AND LOOK AT YOU! YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO SERIOUS DANGER!"

I can't help but let out a gasp. Mom has never said anything like that to anyone! Ever! And Tracey-she doesn't even react! Every fear I was carrying around in me morphs quickly into anger, and suddenly, I'm seething. How could she do this??? How could she put herself into such danger-and scare us all HALF TO DEATH?! No wonder Mom's so angry. It's a marvel she didn't slap Tracey in the face. That's what I would do. 

"I lost track of time. Didn't know it was so late," She mumbled, letting her eyelids fall. Mom bares her teeth, clenches her fists, and I want to scream-but she doesn't hurt Tracey. Still, she's not finished.

"WE WERE CALLING! YOU KNOW THE RULES! TRACEY, YOU-" She cuts herself off with a sharp breath. Mom was about to say something she would regret later. Tracey took this sudden silence as a chance to speak up, and I find my own fists are clenched so tightly my knuckles are painfully bleached. When I force my fingers to fall free, there are tiny creases all over my skin. I wince.

"My phone broke. Fell out of my pocket while I was dancing. Should have called Dess," Tracey explains, sounding bored. I have to bite my lip from shrieking. I want to run down there and punch her! How could she?!

"No," Mom says, and this time, her voice is quieter, shaking. But not from fear or sadness. Mom's feeling pure, uncontrollable rage. And so am I. This makes her voice terrifying, poisonous, dangerous. "Tracey, you should have called us on someone's phone and let us know what had happened! You know that!" Tracey only shrugs. 

"Tracey, do you care? Do you care about me, about your father-about your sister? She was terrified for you, did you know? Brooke didn't want to go to sleep, she wanted to wait for you! You are going to apologize to her, to your dad, to me! I don't care if you were with your friends, if you weren't thinking-and clearly you weren't, you-" Again, Mom cuts herself off. "Tracey Georgia Ellis, you are grounded!"

Tracey's eyes snap open, and I bring my hands to my mouth. "What?" She cries. "That's not fair! I was just- I was just with my friends!! We just lost track of time! It's not my fault! It's not my fault my phone broke!  IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT YOU GUYS TOTALLY DON'T GET IT!" But Mom is already walking away, towards the stairs, and leaving Tracey by herself. Realizing my danger, I race away and dash into the nearest room, hoping that Mom will pass by soon.

Before she does, though, she turns back to where Tracey is. "Tracey, I love you with all my heart. It kills me to do this, but if you are going to stay out there for eight hours, getting yourself into trouble, and come back a mess and ripped up, well, it's unacceptable! I don't want to know what you were doing, but I have a feeling it was more than a mistake." I don't hear Tracey's response, but watch as Mom walks down the hall and to her room with Dad, where they can talk. I wait a moment, listening for sounds, but the only sound is Tracey grumbling. I move silently back to my room, and crawl into bed. Hopefully now I'll be able to fall sleep.

But even as I try to drift off, Mom's words invade my mind. She's right-Tracey could have gotten herself into big trouble, and by the state of her clothing and reactions when she came back, she probably did. Tears burn my eyes, and I bury my face in my pillow, just as a light in the hallway goes on, right outside my room. Quickly, I pretend to be asleep, and I recognize the footsteps as Tracey's. My jaw sets, and my heart starts pounding. It takes everything in me not to scream, especially when she comes closer and suddenly, I feel her breath, quick and warm and smelling slightly like herbs. Usually, it brings comfort, that smell. Now, I want to recoil.

Tracey's words surprise me. "You understand, Brooke. I know you do. I love you, little sister, and I didn't mean to scare you." What? Understand? Is she kidding herself? My hands tighten around the blankets. But Tracey isn't finished.

" Oh, she's asleep. Well, I- I need to talk to someone," Tracey murmurs to herself. Oh, no. What is she planning to say? I'm not asleep. I can hear everything she says! My sister sighs, and I feel pressure on the bed. She's sitting down. Get off of my bed! I want to scream. I have never been so angry! The heat of it is burning in my heart, making my whole body shake. I could punch her, hit her, kick her, scream and shout, and go completely out of my mind! She scared me more than the dream about Elare. More than any nightmare I could ever have. How could she?

"Brooke, it started out like another night. We....well, Abe, you know him, he's Dessie's girlfriend. I mean, boyfriend. Ivy was Dessie's girlfriend before they broke up. You know. Anyway, he drives. So we went over to his house, and he drove us all in his dad's car over to Maria's....you know that place? Elliot paid for our dinner." Then silence. My ears were up. What was going on? Maria's was... expensive. Like, really. I had heard about it, but we had never been there. How rich is Elliot?

"That was for two hours. Then Abe drove us over to the party, and I had only forty-five minutes to hang out with my friends. So I decided to push the curfew...I promised myself I'd only stay until seven," Tracey tells me. I almost snort. Good job keeping that promise. "So we just danced for a while...I was telling the truth, Brooke, to Mom. Wait- you didn't hear what I told her, did you, sleeping beauty." She laughed, though it was obviously forced. Never have I hated my sister so much. " Anyway, while I was dancing, my phone fell out of my pocket. It-it broke. I didn't even realize until this guy came up to me and gave it back. Well, I got my phone back, but it had been, like, trampled. And Elliot helped me out. It never occured to me...it was already 7:10 when that happened. I didn't know the time. I..." Tracey sucks in a sharp breath, as I realize my anger is beginning to fade. Instead, it's melting back into that all-too familiar fear.

"And then we danced for another hour, just having a good time. Dess and I got some food and soda, but we weren't really paying attention and got it all over our clothes. After that...well, I just lost my mind. I didn't care about time, or how you guys would react...I'm a terrible person, I know, Brooke, I know. Dess gave me a make-over. She did my make-up and...oh, she trimmed my hair. Don't tell. If you are awake and hearing this, don't tell. Though I can't be in any deeper trouble, can I." Tracey laughs harshly again, and again, I want to recoil. Dessica cut Tracey's hair? As if this weren't...I bite my lip.

"She told me that she wanted my look to be 'cooler,'" Tracey sighs. "She cut my hair. Tore my sleeves. Gave me a new sweater. And I let her do it, Brooke. I let her do it. I don't know why. God, I really don't. I guess-Dess is my friend, and she's always been cooler than me. I wanted to be like her. So I let her drag me around. Oh, God." I risk opening one of my eyes, just a tiny bit, and there's Tracey, sitting on the side of my bed, her hair sweeping over her as she buries her face in her hands. A lump forms in my throat and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

"We just stayed out, and then finally, the party ended, and I realized how much trouble I was in. I asked Abe to drive me home, but he said, 'No, Trace, we're going out. There's a few clubs we can hit, I've got some friends around. The night is young!' I didn't want to, saying that I was going to be so grounded and that I needed to get home. Dess grabbed my arm and pulled me into the car, and said, 'Who cares? We're going, and you're coming.' I got scared, Brooke, I was so scared. But I just shut my mouth and let them drive-they took me to Redcub's," Tracey sobs, and both of my eyes pop open. What! Redcubs?

Redcub's is the sketchiest club in Vermont, where bad people meet up to do bad stuff-for kicks! Tracey's friends are always so nice! They would never take her to Redcub's. Right? 

"So I of course yelled at that, and told them I was going home now and I was not going into Redcub's and they shouldn't either. And then Elliot took my hand and said-" Tracey bursts into tears, weeping and squeaking and sounding more weak than I ever thought she could. "He said 'If you don't come with us, I'm breaking up with you!' And Dess and Abe agreed. But I couldn't go in there, oh, Brooke, no. I couldn't. So I walked home. In heels. And now I don't have a boyfriend or friends or anything and I'm grounded. Oh, Brooke," Tracey wails.

My heart shatters. I was so angry at Tracey, and here she was, losing her friends as they tried to get her to come with them into Redcub's. Slowly, I reach out and put a finger on her wrist. She looks up suddenly, and I shut my eyes. "B-Brooke?" She blubbers, and I can hear the embarrassment in her voice. Tracey knows I'm awake. I know I'm awake. What's the point pretending?

"Um. Do you remember that day in November? When I had a seizure?" I mumble, not opening my eyes. Tracey hiccups, and wraps her fingers around my hand. A sign that she hears me, that she remembers. I exhale. "The next day, Mrs. Allar, my teacher, called me over. She told me that I'm failing math." I bite my lip. "I-I had to quit my running class, because her tutoring session is at the same time." Wincing, one of my eyes opens. Tracey is watching me with wide eyes, and an embarrassed shade of pink has painted her cheeks. As soon as I open both my eyes, she clears her throat and looks away.

My heart is locked in my throat, and under the blankets, I gather up the sheets into fists. The words just poured out of me, I couldn't stop them! I never would have said those normally, and a twinge of regret pinches at my throat, but in my heart, there's a sense of gladness. I...I think I can trust Tracey. I really do.

"I didn't know you were awake," Tracey mutters, squeezing my hand tighter. I frown. Is she...angry? Really? Because I have all the right to-

"You heard everything, didn't you?" Without waiting for a response, she continues with a sigh. "Well, I-I think I'm glad you did, Brooke. You get it. You get it. I-I'm glad," She says again.

Sadly, I smile, and squeeze her hands tighter. "So am I."