My Sister Framed Me, Cried To My Parents, And Got Me Thrown Out Barefoot…

Every time I tried to sleep behind the gas station or strolled around to waste daylight, it played back in my mind like an echo. Becca wasn’t simply glad I was gone.

She wanted to eliminate me like if I never existed. By the third week I had sunk lower than I had imagined imaginable.

My cash was gone. My phone died.

And I hadn’t had a real meal in two days. I lugged the garbage bag everywhere.

School bus stops and parking lots. It wasn’t even closed anymore.

It was like a sign around my neck: Homeless loser. One night I attempted to hide again in the school library.

I reasoned that if I hid deeper behind the shelves I might be able to avoid detection. Around midnight a flashlight beam struck me directly in the face.

Security grabbed my arm and marched me outside.

“I already told you, you can’t sleep here, kid. Try this one more time and I’ll report you. Then you’ll be suspended,”

He stated with a smirk.

It began to rain shortly after. I walked for miles, rain pouring through my hoodie, my shoes squishing with each step.

My trash bag became so wet that the plastic tore and half of my garments spilled on the sidewalk. I grabbed them up anyhow, clutching the sack tightly.

Even though everything smelled of mildew, I ended up under the awning of a closed laundry. My stomach clenched with hunger.

The type that made you lightheaded. That was my breaking point.

I sat there shivering, thinking, maybe this is it. Maybe I’ll just disappear out here and nobody will notice.

That’s when Lindsay arrived. She came rushing up with an umbrella, hair stuck to her forehead, out of breath as if she had been seeking.

“Kyle, why didn’t you answer your phone? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“My phone’s dead,”

I murmured.

The truth was I hadn’t had a charger in weeks. She crouched next to me, disregarding the puddles that soaked her jeans.

“You look awful.”

“Thanks,”

I replied, attempting to laugh but my voice cracked.

She placed a crumpled envelope into my hands.

“Here, take it.”

I frowned.

“What is it?”

“Just open it.”

Inside was about $60, largely in little banknotes. My throat clenched.

“Lindsay, I can’t.”

“You can!”

She cut me off.

“It’s my allowance. I don’t need it. You do.”

I could not even speak. I simply nodded, hugging it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

She looked around and lowered her voice.

“There’s something else. Becca bragged at a party. I heard her. She told people she planted the money, that she set you up.”

My head snapped toward her.

“She admitted it?”

“Yeah. But nobody believed her. They thought she was showing off. Some even said, ‘Even if it was true, you probably deserved it.'”

It was like being kicked in the chest. Deserved it.

That’s what people thought of me. I rose up and paced under the awning.

“If I can get someone to back me up…”

I said.

“They won’t. She’s too popular. Nobody wants to cross her. They all think you’re already a lost cause.”

Lindsay remarked quietly.

The quiet between us said everything. It wasn’t only my parents.

Everyone had written me off. That night I sat in the laundry doorway, dripping wet, my clothes stinking and my stomach churning.

As I glanced at the street, something within me hardened. If no one was going to stand up for me, I would have to do it myself.

The Truth Comes to Light

That evening after cleaning up in a gas station bathroom, I took my damp garbage bag and began walking. I was not nervous.

I was not scared. I was just finished.

When I turned down our street, my chest clenched. The house looked the same as before: white siding, flower pots on the porch.

The place I grew up in, but it wasn’t mine anymore. I waited there for a long time, rain dripping down my hood, before heading up the driveway.

I was going to walk through that door and make them hear me. Whether they liked it or not, my fist struck the door three times, loud enough to sting my knuckles.

For a little moment nothing happened. Then footsteps.

The door creaked open and there was Becca, as if she had been waiting. Her brows rose and twisted into a sneer.

“Well, look who crawled back,”

She explained.

I shoved past her before she could stop me. My wet shoes creaked across the hardwood.

“I’m not here to stay. I’m here to talk.”

My mother’s voice echoed through the main room.

“Kyle?”

A second later she appeared, drying her hands with a dish towel. Dad followed, arms folded, and his face already read, “Out now.”

“No. You’re going to hear me this time. You’ve believed her lies long enough. Tonight you’re going to hear mine.”

I replied, chest heaving.

Dad took a step forward, looming above me.

“Watch your tone! You don’t get to barge into this house…”

“And watch my tone!”

I said louder than I intended.

“You threw me out with a trash bag because Becca cried and waved a couple bills around! You didn’t even ask for my side! Not once!”

“Because we know you,”

Dad replied sharply.

“You’ve always been reckless, Kyle. Always jealous.”

Dad’s face stiffened but I continued on, fire building in my chest.

“Jealous? Let’s talk about that! Remember when she copied my science project, teacher called home, and you punished me for making her cheat? She cried and you believed her! Always the same story! She’s the angel, I’m the screw-up! Doesn’t matter what actually happened!”

Dad clenched his jaw. For a fleeting second I seen something spark in his eyes.

He knew I was correct. He knew it.

But rather than admitting it, he doubled down. He took a step closer, the smell of aftershave and wrath reaching me.

“Don’t you stand here and disgrace your family! You’ve done nothing but pull this house down since you were a teenager! You want me to acknowledge we favored her? Fine, we did! But she earned it! She keeps her grades up, helps your mother, and stays out of trouble! You can’t even keep a roof over your head!”

The words landed harder than a fist. My fists curled but I forced myself to remain upright.

“I can’t keep a roof because you threw me out! Because she framed me and you believed her without a second thought!”

Behind him, Becca leaned against the wall sipping from a glass of water as if watching TV, a sneer on her face. I turned toward her.

“Go on! Swear right now you didn’t plant that money! Look me in the eye and swear it!”

She tilted her head, lips twitching as if she was about to laugh.

“Sure, I swear,”

She responded, her voice full of sarcasm.