My mother set a bathroom scale beside my chair while twenty relatives were passing mashed potatoes.

The rest of Thanksgiving night was a blur of silence and unspoken tension. By midnight, the relatives had left, leaving behind a fridge crammed with leftovers that nobody felt like eating. My mother spent the rest of the evening giving Grandma Helen the silent treatment, while my father moved around the house like a ghost, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

I sat on my bed, staring at the little black notebook resting under my pillow. I hadn't returned the purse. I told Aunt Diane over text that Ella must have left it, and that I’d bring it to school on Monday since we attended the same private academy on the Northside.

Ella hadn't texted back.

When Monday morning arrived, the air in Columbus was bitterly cold, grey skies heavy with the promise of early December snow. My mother dropped me off at the school gates.

"Remember, Audrey," Mom said as I pulled my backpack over my shoulder. "The dress fitting for the winter formal is on Thursday. I called the seamstress. She said if we need to take it out, it's going to ruin the silhouette. So just... be mindful at lunch today."

I didn't answer. I just shut the car door and walked into the warmth of the school hallway.

I found Ella standing by her locker, looking impeccably dressed in a tailored navy blazer and pleated skirt. But up close, away from the warm lighting of Thanksgiving dinner, the illusion shattered. Her skin had a pale, translucent quality. The dark circles under her eyes were thickly covered in concealer, and her hands trembled slightly as she pulled her chemistry binder from the shelf.

"Ella," I said quietly, stopping beside her.

She flinched, turning around quickly. "Audrey. Hey. Did... did you bring my bag?"

"Yeah. It's in my backpack." I leaned closer, lowering my voice so the passing students wouldn't hear. "Ella, we need to talk. Somewhere private."

"I have to get to AP Lit—"

"Now, Ella. Please."

She hesitated, seeing the intensity in my eyes, and finally nodded. We walked down the basement stairs to the old art storage room—a quiet spot that stayed unlocked during first period.

I pulled her bag out of my backpack and handed it to her. Then, slowly, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the small black notebook and the prescription bottle.

Ella’s face drained of what little color it had left. She reached out to snatch them, but I pulled them back slightly.

"Where did you get these pills, Ella?" I asked, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and worry. "This isn't an ADHD prescription. Who gave this to you?"

Ella dropped her head, her shoulders trembling. "My mom," she whispered.

"Aunt Diane?!" I gasped. "Aunt Diane gives you illegal diet pills?!"

"She gets them from a doctor friend in Chicago," Ella choked out, tears spilling over her lower lashes. "Audrey, please don't say anything. You don't understand. If I don't stay at a size zero, my mom loses her mind. She measures my waist every Sunday night. If I gain a pound, she takes away my car privileges, she cancels my ballet lessons, she tells me I’m going to end up 'lazy and messy' like... like..."

"Like me?" I filled in the blank, the harsh truth stinging like ice.

Ella looked up, her eyes wide with shame. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Audrey. My mom uses your mom to pressure me, and your mom uses my mom to pressure you. It’s a game to them! They've been competing with each other through us since we were ten years old!"

The realization hit me like a physical punch. All those years of criticism, all those passive-aggressive comments about my weight, my clothes, my hair—it wasn't even about me. It was a toxic war between two sisters, and Ella and I were just the casualties.