with a hot surge of anger. "The application... it was

ther, was watching TV. "Chloe, Brittany explained everything. It was a silly social media game that got a li

hey ruined my one chance! This wasn't

schools, other chances. Your step-sister is very popular, Chloe. It's important

ng. "Fine," I said, my voice low and steady. "I don't need their help. I don't need

my mother just shook her head as i

t yesterday. Brittany and I, we were talking. We still want to do the summer food truck festival with you. Just

mise to keep me quiet, to keep me in my place. His words were smooth, but his eyes dar

ght, with nowhere to go. I had snuck him into my room, shared my food with him, and convinced my dad to talk to his, smoothing thi

e are no hard feelings." I submitted a detailed proposal for our menu, centering it around my father's reci

. "That's cute, Chloe. Really. But I think we should go with something more... trendy." She pulled out her phone and showed us a picture

ight, Chloe. The visuals are

eap gimmick. My contribution was ignored, replaced by Brittany's shallow pref

eir colorful, mediocre sandwiches. A local food critic, a well-known blogger, came by. He took a bite of the grilled cheese and

ese?" he ask

g extra," Brittany

uine delight. "This... this is incredible," he said, his voice full of surprise

I've been working on." She took all the credit, right in front of me, without a flick

ation for something she hadn't even touched. The anger was a hot, silent scream trapped inside me, while on the outside,