"Micah!" Paula said. "What happened, honey?" She was staring at the bruise on her cheek.

"Nothing, Mom," Micah replied. "I just wasn’t looking where I was going and ran into a door. Really, it’s nothing."

"That looks really bad, honey," Paula said, moving the damp hair away from the bruise. Micah flinched with pain.

"I’m fine, Mom!" Micah insisted. She pushed past her mom and headed for her bedroom.

Paula watched her daughter walk away. Micah was so distant lately, and she was always having these accidents. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else that her daughter wasn’t telling her.

The next morning, Micah woke up, got in the shower, then tried to cover up the bruise with makeup. It hurt to tough it, but when she was finished it looked a lot better.

"Micah!" her older brother Andrew called. "Phone!"

"Just a second!" she replied. She took one last look in the mirror, sighed, then went and picked up the phone.

"Micah?" a voice said.

"Taylor," she said tensely.

"Look I’m sorry about last night," he said. "You know I didn’t mean it. I love you."

Micah sighed. "I love you, too," she said weakly.

"Good. Then I’ll see you tonight. I’ll pick you up at 7:00."

"All right. See you at 7."

They hung up.

"Micah, Taylor’s here," Andrew called, opening her bedroom door.

Micah was pulling her shirt on, her back to the door.

"Don’t you knock?!?" she exclaimed.

"Micah," Andrew said cautiously. "What happened to your back?"

"Nothing! I just fell, that’s all!"

"No, you don’t get bruises like that from falling."

"Yes," she said. "You do!" she pushed past him, but her grabbed her arm.

"Did Taylor do this to you?"

"No," she said after a pause. "Now let me go!"

He kept his hold on her. "If I find out he did, he’s in big trouble."

She pulled out of his grasp and ran down the stairs to Taylor.

"Let’s go," she said.

"What was all the yelling?" he asked.

"Just some sibling rivalry, nothing important," she answered, avoiding eye contact.

"Ok. Let’s get to the restaurant."

They got in his car and drove to the pizza parlor.

"I’m leaving tomorrow," he said.

"I know."

"I’ll miss you," he said sweetly. "Will you miss me?"

She nodded.

"Are you still mad about last night?" he asked, annoyed and angry. "I already told you I’m sorry!"

"I know," she said quietly. "I’m not mad."

"Good."