Part 1The Forgotten One in the Frame

After the SAT scores are released, Mom says we should get a family portrait taken and hang it in the living room to remember the occasion.

The studio lights are already set up.

Lavinia Jenkins, the photographer and my childhood friend, cheerfully starts getting everyone into position. "Alright, let's have the parents in the middle and the kids on either side."

I move to stand beside my younger brother, Mitchell Simmons.

Suddenly, my older sister, Meredith Simmons, puts out a hand to stop me and shoves me aside. "Maxwell, scoot over a little. Mitchell's got his new suit on today. Let him stand in the middle."

Mom nods. "Exactly. It looks better with Mitchell in the middle. We're going to get a larger print of this picture."

Mitchell is already standing front and center, adjusting his tie with a bright smile.

Meanwhile, I'm shoved all the way to the far left, barely making it into the frame.

The makeup artist beside me speaks up hesitantly, "Ms. Jenkins, could the guy on the left move a little closer to the middle?"

Lavinia waves her off. "No. Leave him there. He just needs to be in the picture."

I stay put, watching as half my face disappears into shadow in the shot.

It suddenly hits me that there's never really been a place for me in this family. If that's the way they want it, then I don't need to make room for them in my life anymore.

* * *

As the photos were being reviewed, my older sister, Meredith Simmons, and Mom crowded around the computer, admiring each shot of my younger brother, Mitchell Simmons.

But whenever one of my photos appeared, Meredith didn't even bother to look at the preview and just hit "Delete".

I pointed to the photo of me in a button-down shirt in the trash and murmured, "Can we keep this one? I need it for my school ID."

Without a second thought, Meredith clicked "Permanently Delete".

"Didn't you already have an ID photo taken when you started high school? Just use that one," she said dismissively.

Mom nodded. "We only get so many edited photos. Mitchell just needs three more photos to put together an album of his own. Don't waste one of them on yourself."

Lavinia Jenkins, my childhood friend and the photographer, picked up her camera again.

"Mitch, you need a picture for your school ID too, right? Come on. Let me get one where you look really handsome," she said while directing him into different poses.

Mitchell glanced at me, then smiled. "Why don't you take a picture of Maxwell instead? He looks like he's about to cry."

Lavinia didn't even look up and kept turning the focus ring on her lens. "He's not photogenic. There's no point wasting a shot on him."

I could only stare at her.

I thought back to three years ago, when Lavinia had first taken up photography. She was always asking me to pose for her, but I'd hide my face and shy away from the camera.

"Why don't you ask Mitchell instead? I'm not photogenic."

She smiled, ruffled my hair, and gently said, "Nobody's unphotogenic. You just need a photographer who knows how to see the beauty in everyone. And to me, you're the most beautiful person in the frame."

After that, Lavinia showed me the pictures one by one. In the shots taken against the light, a golden rim seemed to trace the outline of my face. I couldn't take my eyes off them.

But gradually, more and more of her pictures featured Mitchell instead. Now, the only thing she had to say about me was that there was no point wasting a shot on me.

"Maxwell, that's not what I meant."

Lavinia seemed to realize only then how badly she'd put it and awkwardly tried to backtrack. "It's just that Mitchell… He's more expressive on camera."

Hearing that, Meredith snickered. "Obviously. Mitchell could take a selfie spontaneously and still look good enough to use as his profile picture. Maxwell could spend hours getting ready and still wouldn't come close."

I'd been hearing things like that for as long as I could remember.

In truth, Mitchell and I were fraternal twins.

I was born first, but I seemed to have inherited all the less flattering features from our parents. My features were ordinary, my complexion was darker, and I was shorter and stockier than him.

Mitchell, on the other hand, had practically won the genetic lottery. He was so much better-looking than me.

During the holidays, Mom always took Mitchell along when they visited relatives, while I was left behind at home.

Whenever she went shopping for clothes, she'd carefully choose outfits that suited Mitchell. For me, she'd just pick out a couple of things without giving them a second thought.

Mom even took the gold locket Grandma gave me and had Mitchell's name engraved on it, saying gold didn't flatter my tanned skin.

I ignored them and headed to the photo studio next door to get another picture taken for my school ID.

When I came back out, Mom had bought some cut fruit. It was all Mitchell's favorite—mangoes and pomegranate seeds.

Mom pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and fed Mitchell the pomegranate seeds.

"Since your school cares so much about how you look, let's make sure you eat well before classes start. Just tell me what you're craving, and I'll get it for you."

Meredith took the backpack from Mitchell and started scrolling through recipe videos on her phone.

Then, she said, "You said the other day you wanted to try blueberry jam doughnuts. I'll see if I can come up with a lower-sugar version."

Lavinia handed him a pack of wet wipes with a smile. "I got tickets to the theme park for three days from now. Why don't we all go together?"

"Did you get one for Maxwell, too?" Mitchell asked between bites.

Lavinia froze, then quickly pulled out her phone. "I'll get him one right now."

"No, it's fine. I'm leaving for Pra—"

Before I could finish, Mom shoved the rest of Mitchell's fruit into my hands. "Here. Finish what's left. Don't let it go to waste."

Mom turned to Lavinia and said, "Maxwell doesn't like theme parks. He can't stand all the noise, so don't bother getting him a ticket."

With that, she took Mitchell by the hand and walked off. Meredith and Lavinia followed behind. One carried his bag while the other held an umbrella over him.

They looked like one happy family.