Judges, Not Judges

My parents lived by a single, brutal principle: they would end our fights, but they would never judge them.
No matter how badly my sister and I fought, they refused to step in.
We can't be the judges for you two, my mother would say. One of you will always think it's unfair.
So if you want something, you fight for it. If you're not strong enough, you learn to live without it.
"And don't come crying to us. The tattletale is the one who gets punished."
But I could never win against my ferocious younger sister, Zoe.
Snacks, toys, new dressesthey never even made it into my hands before shed snatched them away, usually after giving me a good shove for my trouble.
To avoid the bruises, I stopped fighting. I stopped arguing.
Until my kitten, Ginger, got sick. I ran for my piggy bank, my heart pounding with the need to save him.
It was empty.
Zoe just laughed.
"I spent all that money ages ago," she sneered. "Guess that little furball will just have to die."
A rage Id never felt before boiled up inside me. I lunged at her, but she just threw me to the ground and beat me. Again.
Something in me snapped. I ran sobbing to my mother, breaking the one sacred rule.
But Moms words were the same cold, hard wall theyd always been:
"This is between you and your sister, Chelsea. I'm not getting involved."
1
I clung to her shirt, my words choked with tears. "But Ginger has a fever. Hes so hot, he wont even open his eyes."
She pushed me away, her patience wearing thin. "Chelsea, you know the rules. No tattling. If you want your money back, you get it back yourself."
My sobs grew louder, more desperate. "But I can't beat her! I've never won a single fight. I can't get it back, Mom. Please, Im begging you."
No matter how much I cried, she wouldn't budge. Our battles were our own. She wouldn't pay for the vet, either.
Instead, she turned the blame on me.
"If something happens to Ginger, it's your fault. Why didn't you protect him better? I told you not to get a cat in the first place. You promised you'd take care of him, so what are you doing now, just crying about it?"
Zoe stood behind her, sticking her tongue out. "Tattletale, tattletale, shame on you."
My mother, fed up with my wailing, finally shoved me aside and walked away.
I clutched my side where Zoes nails had scratched me, the skin still stinging. I looked over at Ginger, curled into a tiny, shivering ball in the corner, his eyes barely slits.
I had no choice. Swallowing my pride, I sniffled and went to Zoe.
"Give me the money back," I pleaded, "and I'll do your homework for you. For the rest of the year." I added, "And I'll do all the chores from now on. You'll never have to lift a finger again."
I had nothing to bargain with. I had nothing in this house that was truly mine. She'd once pried a cookie out of my mouth just because she decided she wanted it. All my allowance, all my birthday moneyshe stole it all. The cash in the piggy bank was a special reward from my uncle for babysitting my cousin all summer. Id hidden it so carefully, tucked away behind the circuit breaker box in the hallway.
And still, she had found it. And taken it.
Zoe just flexed her little bicep. "Nope. I'm keeping the money. And you'll still do everything for me anyway. Because you're a weak, useless loser who can't fight back."
The rage surged again, hot and blinding. "If you don't give me the money, I'll die before I ever help you again!"
At that, she flew at me.
She pinned me to the floor, her weight crushing me. She was so much stronger. One of her hands clamped down on both of my wrists, and I couldn't break free. I was trapped, helpless, as she slapped my face over and over.
I screamed, a wild, hysterical sound.
My dad walked in from work, saw the scene on the floor, and just sighed, walking right past us into the kitchen.
Zoe grinned, her face inches from mine. "You don't help me," she hissed, "and I'll beat you like this. Every. Single. Day."
2
I couldn't lose Ginger. But I couldn't win against Zoe.
I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. Cradling Ginger in my arms, I stumbled out of the house.
And ran right into the old lady from next door. She had a strangely kind smile.
"Zoe been giving you trouble again?" she asked, her voice a raspy whisper. "You're too gentle, dear. If you can't beat her head-on, why not try something a little more... clever? A little something in her drink. Some sleeping pills. Nothing that'll kill her, of course. Just enough to take the fight out of her."
My mother always said the old lady next door was a bad influence. That I should never listen to her.
But she had a point.
I hugged Ginger tighter, and he let out a weak, trusting meow.
In that moment, my heart turned to stone.
I searched the house, pulling open drawers and rummaging through medicine cabinets. Finally, I found them: Mom's sleeping pills.
I pocketed the bottle. Then I went to my room and staged a fake phone call, speaking loudly enough for Zoe to overhear.
"That new beauty supplement you gave me is amazing! My skin is already glowing!"
I knew Zoe was jealous of me. Jealous that I was fair-skinned and pretty, that all the kids at school liked me. She took after our grandfatherdark and brawny. Shed secretly tried Moms diet pills and slathered her face with Mom's expensive creams.
I knew she wouldn't be able to resist the "secret beauty pills."
Sure enough, she stomped into my room a few minutes later, demanding them.
I refused. If I gave them up too easily, she might get suspicious.
Predictably, she started hitting me. She grabbed a textbook from my desk and slammed it against the side of my head. A dull, throbbing pain spread across my face. Finally, I "confessed" where the pills were hidden.
She scrambled to find them. The moment she had the bottle, she twisted it open and poured the entire contents into her mouth, swallowing them dry.
My breath caught in my throat. I just held Ginger, unable to watch.
Soon, she was sprawled on her bed, fast asleep.
I tiptoed over and whispered her name. No response. I shook her shoulder. Nothing.
I frantically searched for her money stash, my hands shaking. After what felt like an eternity, I found it.
I didn't waste a second. I grabbed the cash, scooped up Ginger, and slipped out of the house.
I didn't know where the nearest animal hospital was, so I went to my grandma's house and got my older cousin, Mark, to drive us.
It was a long night, but finally, Ginger was safe at the clinic, an IV drip in his tiny paw. The vet said he'd be fine in a couple of days.
But the money I had was only enough to cover the first day.
Without a second's hesitation, I told the receptionist, "That's fine. I have more."
It was the first time I had ever successfully taken something back from Zoe.
And I knew it wouldn't be the last.
My heart was racing. I had found her weakness. I had found a way to win. She could beat me with her fists, but I had my brain. I was always at the top of my class, after all.
On the way home, I used the last fifty cents I had to buy an ice cream bar. It was the first time Id ever eaten a treat without the fear of it being ripped from my hands. A deep, unfamiliar sense of satisfaction bloomed in my chest. I was already planning my next move. One pill a day, and she'd never have the strength to hit me again.
But when I walked through the front door, the first thing I saw was my parents, their faces pale with panic, carrying a limp, vomiting Zoe towards the door.
I froze.
They saw me and immediately grabbed my arm, yanking me along with them.
"We have to take Chelsea too," my dad said, his voice tight with fear. "If it's food poisoning, she could be next."

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