As I slowly embarked up the stairs towards my sisters room, I felt this nauseating churn beginning in my stomach. How would she react? Would she hate me even more than she hates me now? How was I going to tell her anyways?
I realized I had stopped mid-stair to contemplate my decisions. Okay, stopping was one bad decision already against me. It was a million times harder to get moving again, now that I knew I could stop and just turn around like a jester running from a medieval battle. But the thought of this horrible truth eating me alive from the inside out any longer was unbearable. So I took one step, then another, then another until I had enough momentum to continue up the stairs without needing the banister like an alcoholic needs their spirit of choice in a brown paper bag.
But back to the question…what am I to do? I know I have to tell her but how? The scandalous secret I’ve been keeping is like a barrel of gasoline, ready to explode at the smallest spark.
As I was coming up with metaphors for my current predicament (which is a trick that I came up with years ago so that I could continue to do something that I didn’t like without being totally conscious to the fact that I was doing it after all), who do I run into but the very person I was seeking.
Katrina was leisurely strolling down the stairs as I was moving on to the next metaphor (something to do with a sailor for some reason).
“Hey Sash,” Katrina replied with the usual smirk she had adopted last year. When she’d turned 18, she finally decided that she was not going to go to college but was going to become an actress. I have to hand it to her, acting was one of her strong suits. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Only when she mentioned it had I realized id gained so much momentum that I’d stopped leisurely meandering up the stairs but was now taking 2 steps at a time and still speeding up.
I forced my self to slow down, stop, and turn to face my demonic sister.
“Kat,” I said in a tone worthy to give to a rattlesnake which had just bitten me. “Since when are you talking to me again? I thought I was just your lousy sister who you only tolerate because you have to?”
“Apparently I DO have to…mom says you are my “family”, after all.” She had a sarcastic look engraved on her face that was as famous as the Statue of Liberty; it was the I-hate-you-and-I-know-you-hate-me-so-let’s-pretend-for-mom’s-sake look…an animal attack captured in an expression that should never have be transferred to a humans’ face.
“Since when have you listened to mom?” I demanded fiercely, putting on my equally famous you-don’t-know-me look.
“Since she gave me the car to take to marks tonight” she said smugly while continuing down the stairs.
“WHAT?” I screeched. “I have to go to Riley’s birthday tonight. She’s turning sixteen and its been planned for months. I told mom AGES ago that I was going to her party!!” I was infuriated at the fact that mom once again chose her side over mine. Mark is Katrina’s boyfriend; Captain of the football team, honours student and an overall babe. Katrina was blessed with mom’s looks; long blonde hair, shimmery blue eyes, muscularly skinny and overall gorgeous.
I, on the other hand, got dad’s looks; mousy brown hair with curls that will NEVER straighten, grey eyes that are the same color of used chalk and I’m short and nubbly, kind of potato shaped, I guess.
The one thing I have over my sister is intelligence. She is as dumb as a wet rag. She honestly thought that candles were grown in the ground. Nothing against blondes, it must just be a coincidence, but she is stupid.