We’re having roast beef for dinner, which is a family favorite for everyone but Reilly, who doesn’t eat meat. Tonight however, everyone is only picking at their plates, barely speaking unless absolutely necessary. No one has forgotten the argument that happened a few hours earlier.

"He was gorgeous," Mom says, continuing to ramble on about the baby she got to help deliver that morning. "It's been so long since I've been this hands on with my patients, getting to know my them and being involved in their lives."

Beside me, Rhiannon mumbles, "Well, hopefully they'll put that kid's picture in the paper instead next time."

Everyone pretends they didn't hear her. No one has the energy to get into it all over again.

"I've only met a fraction of the people from Doctor William’s practice so far, I know some people have their own doctors elsewhere, but this role has made me feel like I'm part of a community again."

I'm happy for my mom, in a way. I'm not sure why she chose this moment to announce just how thrilled she is with her life in Fairview, it's like she doesn't get when to relax.

The room falls silent all over again, and I shovel a spoonful of mashed potatoes into my mouth. French fries and now this. It's been a fantastic day for me and potatoes in all their forms.

Nobody says anything, and we’re all probably counting down the seconds until dinner is finished so we can go to our own corners of the house to get a break from one another.

"Well, I have an announcement," Reece says putting down her fork, clinking it against her plate. "Since I can't do the soccer thing this year, I'm going to start volunteering. Some people at school were telling me that there's a small animal shelter in town. Fairview isn't really big enough to have one, but some millionaire or something founded it like twenty years ago, now it serves a bunch of the towns in the surrounding areas. They always have a few dogs and cats in there, all looking for homes. It's something I might do after school." She casts a quick glance to each of my parents. "If that's okay, I mean." I don't think anyone of us expects my parents to argue with Reece volunteering since it wasn't something any of us could ever expected to happen. It's not that she’s selfish, it's just that Reese's world exists in a tiny bubble around her. The fact that she asked permission at all hints at just how badly she wants this, even if she’s playing it off like it’s not a big deal.

"That's great, sweetheart." Dad shoots a thumbs-up to her from across the table, I stifle a groan. "Do you need anything from us? Permission slip?"

"No idea. I'm going in tomorrow to see if they even need any help. Who would say no to extra volunteers though, right?"

"Wait. You already knew about the volunteering thing?" I ask. “Or are you just doing this to get out of the house?”

Reece shrugs. “Why not both?”

“What’s this?” Reilly asks.

"Apparently to graduate high school here, there are volunteering requirements, also some community involvement stuff. I didn't get the details, but nobody mentioned it to us when we enrolled."

"I forgot about that," Mom says, a glint of nostalgia in her eyes. "They did that when I was a teenager here too. By the time you graduated, you needed to have at least forty hours of community service, as well as volunteering for at least two town festivals."

"Wait, there are festivals?" Reilly asks, looking weirdly excited by the whole idea.

"I’m not sure how many festivals are still around," Mom answers. "But the town does a lot of events through the year. A lot of fundraising too. I'm sure you can each find something you're interested in. It’s all part of the sense of community."

"I'm really not sure how anyone can call it volunteering, especially when it's mandatory," I say, still not in love with any of this, but also not sure why it bugs me. As if moving to a new town and having to deal with classes isn't enough, now I'm going to have to volunteer somewhere? The idea alone stresses me out. What kind of volunteering would involve the least amount of interacting with people? Reading to old people? Sorting donations somewhere?

"Why didn't anyone tell us but this earlier?" Rhiannon asks. She's already back on her phone, I can only imagine that she was looking for the most prestigious volunteer opportunities available. Or complaining to Derrick about how terrible her life here apparently is.

"I'm sure they're going to make allowances for the fact you girls came in late. At the very least, cutting down your community service hours by ten seems fair. One of you should talk to a guidance counselor at school to see what you can learn. If cutting back hours is an issue, I'll give the school call and see what we can figure out."

"So is it ten hours a year, or just forty hours before we graduate?" Reilly asks. She was always the one getting involved in causes back in Virginia, even when she didn't have to. Somehow, she’s excited about this. She’ll probably do more like sixty hours, if she can.

I have no intention about worry about it this year. At the earliest, Junior year will be fine.

The very earliest.

This year is already spoken for on every level, and while I try to convince myself that I'll be putting this off, because I want to better tailor my volunteer experiences to whatever field I decided I want to end up in, it has nothing to do with that. It probably makes me a terrible person, but, for now, I’m going to avoid this issue and hope it goes away.

* * *

Reece and Rhiannon retreat to the attic after dinner, probably complaining about our parents while they finish some of the tidying up they have insisted on before we can start moving our stuff up there this weekend. At least that gives me my bedroom to myself.

I crawl into bed, halfheartedly promising myself that I won't fall asleep and pull out my phone, already feeling a nap coming on. Today ended up being a way more exciting day than I would've guessed, I want to tell Nadine about all of it. Everything from my presentation, going out to Lizzie's, to my family being insane. This is the kind of stuff that only she will ever understand.

Reagan: Hey. Want to play a CoA? Had a crazy day.

Nadine: Can't get to my computer right now. What's up?

So much for that idea. How is it she never has time to be at her computer anymore?

Reagan: Nevermind. I’ll fill you in later.

I frown down at my phone, disappointed. Feeling the call of my pillow more and more. If Nadine’s not going to be around, there’s really no reason not to sleep. I lay down, but my phone buzzes again.

Nadine: No, come on. Tell me.

Part of me isn’t all that convinced she cares at all, but before I let my eyes drift shut, trusting Rhiannon to wake me up in the next little while, I type out everything. It ends up being a solid wall of text and there are still things that get left out.

I tuck my phone under my pillow and drift off. Sleep takes me quickly and lasts until I hear two sets of footsteps shuffling down the attic stairs, announcing my sisters return.

I glance at my phone. Looks like I was only able to get a half-hour sleep, but as I'll be back to sleep soon enough, I force myself to sit up. I swear, teenagers definitely need way more than eight hours of sleep, but the rest of the world seems to disagree.

A notification of the top my phone tells me there’s a new text message. It's from an unknown number, not Nadine. I double back to the last message I sent, making sure it went through. It did. It's been read. She hasn't said anything back. It hasn't really been all that long, but usually I can count on Nadine to at least offer a sympathetic ear and to rant right along with me about my family. Since both of our families are equally dysfunctional, we both always act as a sounding board for the other when we need someone on our side.

It’s getting harder and harder to squash that voice that’s telling me I’m not a priority for her anymore, so I flip over to the new text message.

Unknown number: Hey, Reagan. It's Kent. Jen had your number from our group contact sheet. Just wanted to make sure you had mine in case you try to find us tomorrow at lunch. I mean… no pressure.

No way.

I read it again. Yup. Kent just messaged me, completely out of the blue! As if this day hasn't been up and down enough already. My stomach does a little flip-flop. There’s still a very good chance Kent is only being nice to me as a charity case. But even though part of my brain is still trying to convince me this is all a pity thing, I don’t believe it.

He’s just that nice. And I do like his friends. The fact that they all seem to like me to is a bonus.

"What's up?" Rhiannon asks as she comes into the room, and sits down at her desk.

"Nothing," I say, shoving my phone back out of sight. "How are things going upstairs?"

"It’s so close to done. I swear we’re finding dust everywhere. There’s a lot of room up there, and it looks like no one who has ever lived in this house has used it for anything. I don’t even think it would take that much work to turn it into two new bedrooms, potentially even adding a bathroom."

I sit up straighter. One of the first things I considered when the move to Fairview was announced was the possibility of each of us getting our own bedrooms. I would love not having to always share my space with one of my sisters, especially not having to share a bathroom with all of them. That would be a freaking dream come true. But no, this house, which is twice as big as our old one, still only has three bedrooms. It has an extra room downstairs, but Dad claimed that for his office.

And Rhiannon's right, the attic is huge, almost as big as the entire second floor. There would be more than enough room to fit some extra bedrooms up there. "Have you mentioned it to Mom and Dad? Maybe we can get one last favor out of their residual guilt." I don’t point out that Rhiannon may have killed any chance of that today.

"No point. The town owns the house, not Mom and Dad. So we probably can't do any major changes to the property while we live here. Even if we live here for twenty years, you know Mom’s never going to do anything to risk pissing off her precious town council. She would just come up with some sort of bullshit excuse about how sharing bedrooms builds character. As if. Sharing two bedrooms between four people just builds insanity and claustrophobia."

I slump back down but only long enough to shimmy out of the jeans I fell asleep in before changing into pajama pants. I've long since gotten used to changing in front of my sisters; modesty isn't a thing when you're already stuck with identical bodies.

I can't shake the idea of having my own room. After this, it'll be off to college where we'll all be stuck sharing bedrooms with strangers in dorms. Then, we'll probably have roommates for years until we can afford to get our own places. Some of us might move in with significant others even before then. This could be our only chance to get our own rooms. Seeing as we literally started out sharing a womb, this is something that should have happened a long time ago.

I do my best to shrug the whole thing off, not wanting to antagonize Rhiannon farther, but I'm not letting the idea go. We finally live somewhere that has enough space for our bizarre, big family. If making the most of that is how the universe pays us back for having to leave our old house and our friends behind, I'm determined to make it happen. How? I have absolutely no idea, but thankfully I know three equally motivated people who will probably be game to help me figure it out.

First things first though. I grab my phone and open the message from Kent, reading it a few times to make sure there’s no way I misinteretted the message.

Reagan: You talked me into it ;) I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch!

Tonight, I’m feeling brave. Tomorrow, there’s a very good chance I would have tried to back out. At least now I’ve made not showing up an even more awkward option than just ignoring the offer.

I have to do this. And even better, I actually want to.