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doesn’t get her way or feels threatened, she can even become violent. She is also most likely to abuse drugs while she is manic. If you’ve told her a secret, she will tell it. It’s like all of her feelings and thoughts are magnified. When she is depressed, she sleeps most of the day. She calls me to discuss our childhood (when things were good) and seems genuinely interested in me and my life. She lures me in. And in some way, when she becomes manic, she will use every single word against me. I should have learned that lesson by now. But in those moments, I want so badly to have a true relationship with my sister. She knows just how to play me. I talk to her like a friend when she is depressed, and then she manipulates and accuses me of whatever delusional thoughts she has when she is manic.
    Those mood swings, for me, are defined by her being the girl I know an d love one moment and then becoming a complete stranger the next. I often wonder if the girl I grew up with is completely lost. I wonder if I’ll search for her the rest of my life.
    “Hey, whatcha been up to?” I ask, trying to sound cordial. My voice catches in my throat, and I breathe a little deeper.
    “Nothing , really. Just missing you. Mom says you are happy and like it there. I am really proud of you, Sis.” OK, so she’s normal today. I think.
    “Yeah. I like my classes. It’s great living with Jenna, and we’re having so much fun together.” I always measure my words before I say them. I never really know how she might interpret what I say. Just walking on eggshells.
    “I’m glad. You’re getting to do things I probably never will.” She wants pity, but it’s hard. She chooses not to attend her counseling sessions. She also doesn’t t ake her medication or takes too much of it. Bipolar is a disorder she has, but only she can decide if she lets it define who she is or not. That thought makes me feel guilty. For being normal.
    “You know you could. You are so smart and talented. You know I would help you.” Katie is an artist. I can’t draw a stick man, but her paintings should be displayed in a n art gallery, on display for collectors to buy and covet. She also writes beautiful poetry. Many bipolar patients are artistically inclined, and she is no exception.
    “Yeah. I might check into it sometime. Have you met any boys?” To tell or not to tell? That is the question.
    “I have, but I’m not really dating yet.” I err on the side of caution.
    “Well, I just called because I wondered when you were coming home. I miss you. I even miss Jenna being around.” Jenna has been around so long, she is like a fixture at our house. I feel guilty because Jenna seems more like a sister to me than Katie is.
    “I miss you, too. Maybe I’ll come home next weekend.” Suddenly, a trip home sounds nice. I miss it more than I ever expected to.
    “I’ll let you get back to your stuff. Talk to you later.” She sounds so sad. If she isn’t depressed now, she will be. I can tell she’s on her way down.
    “Love you. Bye.” With t hat, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. That’s what it feels like to be held emotionally hostage by someone you love.

 
    Chapter 8
     
    I have psych class three days a week. I haven’t heard from Declan since Saturday, so I am a little anxious to see how he will act when I see him today. I kind of liked sitting near the back so I could see everyone without looking like a stalker, so I take the same seat I had last week.
    To my surprise, Declan and Eric start walking toward me when they come in. Declan sits next to me, with Eric on his other side. I smile at them, and I hope this means everything is going to be OK. Declan leans toward me and says, “I couldn’t let the prettiest girl in class sit alone, now, could I?” My face gets warm, and I feel my pulse speed up.
    “Really? Then why aren’t you sitting with her ?” I laugh, pointing to the perky blonde a few rows up. I’m joking, but there is a