My younger sister, Ava, was my parents’ pride and joy, their “miracle” after a scary illness as a baby. My older sister, Claire, was barely noticed. I’m Sam, the middle kid, watching this unfairness my whole life. Claire’s straight-A grades got a shrug, but Ava’s minor awards, like “best smile” at camp, meant parties. Claire loved sketching, but when she asked for art supplies, my parents said they were too pricey. Days later, Ava got a deluxe set after saying she wanted to try art. Once, Claire asked me, tears in her eyes, “Sam, do they even see me?” I was only 11 and didn’t know what to say, so I hugged her close.
By high school, Ava’s need to outdo Claire turned mean. She stole Claire’s first crush for fun and once chopped Claire’s hair while she slept, calling it a prank. My parents dismissed Claire’s tears, saying, “It’s no big deal.” In college, Ava took Claire’s boyfriend, and Claire had enough. She left, starting over with her partner, Mike, who cherished her. When Claire got pregnant, my parents pleaded for a family reunion dinner. Claire, hoping for change, agreed, but I was nervous. At the dinner, my parents overdid the warmth, while Ava watched Claire like a hawk. She tossed a barbed comment about Claire’s pregnancy, suggesting it was risky with her “nerves.” Mike tensed, saying Claire was thriving.
Then Ava stood, her voice syrupy, claiming Claire must hate seeing her with Claire’s ex, now Ava’s husband. Claire froze, hurt flashing across her face. Before Mike could respond, our cousin, Lisa, raised her glass. “To Claire,” she said, “who tutored me through college and never asked for anything.” Our aunt spoke next, thanking Claire for comforting her daughter during a hospital stay. Family members joined in. “Claire gave me rides when I was broke,” said one. “She helped with my baby shower,” said another. “She visited Grandpa every week,” said our uncle. I stood, my voice thick. “Claire, you stayed up late helping me with science, even when you were exhausted. You’re the best sister.”
The room overflowed with praise for Claire, and Ava sat silent, unnoticed. She turned to our parents, expecting backup. Mom barked, “Ava’s our miracle! She deserves love too!” Lisa shot back, “For what? Stealing Claire’s happiness?” Dad called Ava the family’s star, but Mike stood, his voice steady. “Star? She took Claire’s boyfriend, her peace, and tried flirting with me to hurt her more. You encouraged her.” Ava tried to argue, but Mike said, “Claire builds people up. You only destroy.” My parents were speechless. Ava yelled, “You all hate me!” and ran out, but no one cared. Claire, smiling through tears, said, “I thought I didn’t matter, but you proved I do.” As she felt the baby move, Mike grinned, and we all celebrated her. Claire was finally seen, and our family learned that love means lifting everyone up, not picking favorites.