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I start to bandage her hand when she stops me.

‘Wait! We need to get some photos first, with all the blood.’

‘Do we though?’ I say.

‘Photoshoot!’ Penny yells, overhearing her.

‘No, no, no more photoshoots,’ I say, but it’s too late. They’re getting props.

29

Hours later, I walk into my room, and find Lauren asleep, lying diagonally across my bed. I slip under the covers, gently pushing her. She opens her eyes, snuggles closer to me.

‘Your breath is in my face,’ I say.

‘If I turn the other way, my hair will be in your face.’

‘I would rather hair than breath,’ I say. Lauren sighs and rolls over. Her long hair is in my face, it’s all over me, and it’s incredibly annoying, but I don’t say anything. It smells nice, fruity and floral and musky all at once.

‘Thank you,’ she says after a minute.

‘What for?’

‘For looking after me.’

‘It’s my job.’ I don’t know why I say this. If I was the older sister, it might make more sense to say it and pretend I mean that society has decreed it my job, but no one expects anything of the younger sister, not really.

‘Wow, do you put me on your resume?’

I can hear the edge in Lauren’s voice. ‘Not like that. You know what I mean.’

‘Is that how you think of me? As a job, an obligation?’

‘No. I think of you as my sister. We’re family. We look after each other.’

‘I would do the same for you.’

I could let the words sit. I could just say goodnight and be done with it. But Lauren triggers my need to pick, to scratch, to push, to not let things go.

‘Except you’ve never had to,’ I say.

‘What does that mean?’

‘It just means I’m always the one looking after you, not viceversa.’ I need her to acknowledge it. I need her to know. What’s the point of worrying about someone, looking after them, making all these sacrifices, if they don’t even realise, if they don’t even give it a second thought? God, is this how parents feel every day of their lives? But I’m not a parent.

Now Lauren rolls back over to face me.

‘You think I’ve never looked out for you?’

‘I think our roles in the family are you, the wild reckless fun one, and me, the boring, responsible protector.’

Lauren snorts.

‘Do you remember, in primary school, when Luke Taylor stayed after school and hid in the bushes and threw water bombs filled with his piss at you?’

‘No. That never happened.’

‘Exactly. Because I heard about what he and his friends were planning and I scared the shit out of him.’