I didn’t cross my arms. I didn’t try to cover myself. I stood tall, my spine straight, letting the sun beat down on my scars for the first time in twelve years.

I stepped forward. I reached out and took the microphone from Chloe’s limp, paralyzed hand.

I brought the mic to my lips, looking my twin sister dead in the eye.

“You wanted to know why Mom and Dad look at me with pity, Chloe?” My voice boomed through the massive speakers—steady, piercing, and free of fear. “You wanted to know what my invisible disease is? You wanted me to stop hiding so everyone could see the truth?”

Chloe’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t breathe. She took a trembling step backward, nearly falling into the pool.

“It’s not a disease, Chloe,” I said, my voice ringing out over the silent, weeping crowd of teenagers. “Twelve years ago, when the old house caught fire in the middle of the night, you were terrified. You hid in your closet. A burning structural beam fell across your bedroom door, trapping you inside as the room filled with smoke.”