The same popular crowd that had once followed her around like puppies turned on her almost overnight. And when she lost their approval, she came for mine.

“Emily stole money from my purse,” she told Mom one night while I was finishing an essay in the dining room.

“I didn’t!” I shouted, heart pounding.

Mom stormed in. “Julia would never lie about this. Return the money and apologize.”

“I didn’t take anything!” I pleaded.

Dad joined in. “Why must you always argue? Why can’t you be more like your sister?”

And behind their backs, Julia smiled.

Worse than the accusations was how easily they spread — at home, at school. Julia told people I cheated on tests, gossiped about teachers, and stole from lockers. None of it was true, but truth didn’t matter. Her lies painted me as trouble. My friendships crumbled one by one as my parents forbade me from seeing anyone Julia disliked.

“You don’t need to hang out with Claire anymore,” Mom declared one afternoon.

“What? Why?”

“Julia says she’s a bad influence.”