No. No, why do I hear voices? It's supposed to be silent. Silence is the only way we keep the peace in my house. If there are voices, there is tension. If there is tension, my family is on the verge of breaking.

Two years ago, we were normal. We did normal family things, like go to baseball games and play Monopoly. But that was before Kacey left. She went away, and suddenly everything was hanging by a thread. Why did she have to go to college in New York? I know, I know. I should be happy for her. But it's so impossibly hard to be happy for someone else when your own life looks like it got run over by three cement trucks.

I wish I'd never grown up. If I hadn't grown up, if I'd stayed five years old forever, we never would have moved to Texas. We could have stayed on Maroon Court forever. What a beautiful life that would be. To live on Maroon Court, where flowers grow instead of thorns and worries are like foreign countries- miles and miles away.

People always say it's so easy being the youngest. But it's not. In my family, it's impossible. You have to stay home watching all your siblings go to exciting new places while you stay home, knowing that all night you're going to have to listen to your parents' hushed voices yell at each other about how money's tight and they have no clue as to how to put four kids through college.

Lucky, lucky Kacey. I bet in her house in New York, their happiness isn't built on a fragile cornerstone. I bet she never cries herself to sleep at night, thinking about how her parents would be so much better off if it wasn't for you.

Maybe this weekend, my sister will decide to come and visit us. Then we can have peace, even if just for a few days.


I need silence.