Faded

I wait for my brother to call, realizing that he doesn't know where to pick me up after school. He doesn't. He just comes home. My mom doesn't call, because my brother didn't call her to tell her I was missing. So I stay in my room all night with Pepper, waiting for someone, anyone, to notice that they haven't seen me at all today.
But my phone stays silent
and my door remains unknocked.
At eleven, when I know everyone is asleep, I go downstairs to get an apple. I'm used to hunger, but this was all day with a run that I'd gone without food. I'm a little light-headed.
"Did you see the note?" I jump as my brother talks. I nod at him, on the couch. "I guess I should have seen it coming," he says. I nod again. "Peanut, why don't you talk anymore?" I shrug, flip my hair, and walk back upstairs before he can make me think that he actually cares about me. Because he doesn't.
When I get back upstairs, I am hit with the smell. Either Pepper or mom threw up. I'm hoping it was mom. No way am I cleaning up after Pepper unless it was in my room. And I hear crying from her room.
But she ignores me when I cry.
So why shouldn't this be any different?
Somehow, I pretend not to hear. Somehow, my brother texts me to tell mom to shut up.
And somehow, we're all still alive. In a few broken pieces, but alive.