So it became just the two of us: me and Junie, and the invisible shadow of the daughter I’d never known.
The first day of first grade felt like a fresh start. Junie marched up the sidewalk, pigtails swinging, and I waved, praying she’d make friends.
I spent the day cleaning, trying to scrub off my nerves.The grief changed us.
“Relax, Phoebe,” I said out loud. “June-bug’s going to be just fine.”
That afternoon, I barely had time to set down the sponge before the front door slammed.
Junie burst in, backpack half open, cheeks flushed.
“Mom! Tomorrow you have to pack one more lunchbox!”
I blinked, rinsing soap from my hands. “One more? Why, sweetheart? Did Mommy not pack enough?”She tossed her backpack onto the floor and rolled her eyes, like I should already know.
“For my sister.”
A jolt of confusion ran through me. “Your… sister? Honey, you know you’re my only girl.”
“Tomorrow you have to pack one more lunchbox!”
Junie shook her head stubbornly. For a moment, she looked just like Michael.
“No, Mom. I’m not. I met my sister today. Her name’s Lizzy.”
She tossed her backpack onto the floor and rolled her eyes, like I should already know.
“For my sister.”
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