How did I end up like this? I was perfectly fine in elementary school. My social life actually existed there. It all went down the drain in middle school. I guess Dad’s partly to blame. He’s the one who messed me and my twin sister, Aly, up forever.

I think about this as I sit in my sister’s room. She has a bunch of her friends sleeping over. If you used the term loosely, you might consider them my friends too. But if you call treating me like a piece of furniture a friend-like quality, then sure, maybe they could be considered friends. They’re really more like acquaintances, though.

“How about this one?” Aly’s friend Jessica asks. She’s been skimming through a magazine, asking us questions from the boring quizzes in it. “‘What Greek goddess are you?’” she reads.

“That one sounds good,” Katelyn, another of Aly’s friends, says, not looking up from her toenails, which she’s painting hot pink.

“Here’s the first question: ‘What do you value most?’” Jessica pauses, reading the choices in her head before saying them out loud. “A) Love, B) Wildlife, C) Work, D) Nature, E) Commitment, or F) Family.”

“Love,” Katelyn answers automatically. Of course she’d pick that. She and her boyfriend have been going out for months.

“I’d have to say work,” says Heather. She’s a straight-A honor student. That one was obvious too.

“For me, it’s commitment,” Jessica says. “What about you, Aly?”

She doesn’t answer at first. Four pairs of eyes turn to face her. “Family,” she eventually says.

What do you think, Alyssa?

Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’d have to go with family.

But do they even think to ask me? No. Now do you get the furniture thing? Exactly. Furniture. That’s all I am to them. I could walk away right now, and the only person who might notice is Aly. Maybe I will.

And I think I’ll do just that. I stand up and walk right out of the room. Aly glances up for a second, watching me walk out the door. Everyone else just continues on with what they were doing, not even appearing to notice that I had left.

I go straight to my room. Why did I even agree to this stupid sleepover? I knew this was going to happen as soon as Aly suggested it. I shove a pair of headphones over my ears, turning on my iPod and drowning out the voices and giggles from the room next door.

I get lost in the music for a while. It’s been like that ever since middle school. I mean, I liked music when I was younger. But when me and Aly moved in with our grandparents in New York right before middle school, I became obsessed with it. Almost every penny I have ever spent was on music. So far, if I remember correctly, I have 10,548 songs on my iPod. There’s just something about music that relaxes me and distracts me from the world around me.

“Alyssa?”Hearing my name makes me jump. I turn to face the owner of the voice, pulling my headphones off. Aly’s standing beside my bed.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Why’d you leave?” she asks.

“Your friends don’t like me,” I reply, starting to put my headphones back over my ears and turning away. “I’ve told you that a million times.”

“They like you,” she says.

I turn back to her. “Maybe in your little world, where everyone gets along and no one is left out. But in my world, I have to learn to fend for myself. Not everyone gets along well in my world. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with Bob Marley that I can’t be late for.” I turn away from her again.

For a minute, I think she left, but then I hear her speak again. “Where did you put it?”

My foot, which had been tapping along with the music, freezes. “You’re seriously going to do it tonight?”

“I can't help it,” she says. “I need it.”

I sigh and reach under my bed for the shoebox she’s looking for. She takes it from me right away. “Thank you so much; you’re a lifesaver.” Sure. Like what she’s about to do isn’t going to kill her. I hope she knows I’m not doing this for her health.

She opens the shoebox hungrily and pulls out a syringe and a bottle of what I just found out the other day was heroin. I had only just found out a week ago that she was even doing drugs. But I should’ve noticed the signs. She had become a little more withdrawn and had started to wear sweatshirts more often, even though it’s summer. I definitely don’t like the fact that she’s getting herself into this, but I’m afraid that if I tell anyone, I’ll lose my best friend. Besides, it was her decision to start in the first place. She could’ve said no. This is just another thing that Dad could be partially to blame for. Maybe if the summer before sixth grade had never happened, she might’ve had the brains to not even start using drugs in the first place.

“You should tell your friends,” I tell her. She loads the syringe up with heroin and gets ready to inject it. She stops right before. I know that I should get all conversation in now, before she goes all spacey on me. It’s impossible to get a straight answer out of her for a while after she does this.

“They already know.”

“They’re not…using them, are they?”

“Heather isn’t. She refuses to do anything that would mess up her grades.” She rolls her eyes. “Goody two shoes. Jessica has used pot and speed a couple of times, but only at, like, parties. And Katelyn, well, she’s pretty much addicted, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Are you all going to do it tonight?”

“Well, Heather’s not. She’s babysitting. She probably wouldn’t mind some help, though, if you want to.”

“No thanks,” I reply.

She starts to look impatient. “I have to hurry. They’re waiting.”

“I don’t really think it’s a good idea to be doing this when Gram and Pop are both home.”

She pats my hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I say. “Just don’t come crying to me when they get all weirded out when you guys are making a lot of noise and they walk in the room with you guys looking like you’re in Euphoric Fairy Land.” She gives me a look, but my words still don’t stop her. She takes the needle and sticks it into her arm. I watch her face go from annoyed to ecstatic in a matter of seconds. I turn away after that, turning my music up louder.

When I look back, she’s gone. I stick my head under my bed, but the shoebox is missing. I sigh and lie down on my back. Before I know it, I’m fast asleep.