She was pretty, my sister, and looking at her now I could see that she’d become even prettier over the last couple of months. She’d lost that soft, baby roundness to her face and was getting cheekbones, which made her eyes look bigger—she’d gotten Mom’s brown ones, I got Dad’s green ones.
She was also starting to fill out in the top, like she might get bigger boobs than me, and her hips were definitely curvier. But she still dressed young and girly—lots of pink and peach shirts, nice jeans, never showing any skin, barely any makeup although she was allowed. The most I’d see her with was some lip gloss and a light coat of mascara. She had black hair like mine, but she usually wore hers in a ponytail and didn’t tease it up with hair spray. We looked alike when she wore it down, similar features, hair, and small build, but up close we didn’t at all. Nicole’s expression was sweet, open and inviting. And me? Mom said I looked at the world like I was daring it to mess with me.
Nicole was a bookworm, always reading something, often swapping books with Mom. She tried to get me to read some of her books, V. C. Andrews, Anne Rice, or Jean M. Auel, saying, “Try it, Toni, you might like it,” but reading just wasn’t my thing. I never could focus long enough.
She put down her book and smiled. “How was your date?”
“We just hung out at Ryan’s. It was okay.”
I could tell she had a crush on Ryan. He didn’t come over often, but when he did she found a reason to be around, getting something from the kitchen or the fridge. Ryan was always nice, asking about school or something, but I’d glare at her until she finally got the hint and left us alone.
“What are you reading?” I asked, still at Nicole’s door. I felt bad that when she asked the night before if she could borrow some of my good conditioner I told her to buy her own. Normally I didn’t mind sharing once in a while—I’d only said it because I was pissed at Mom. We’d just had another fight about my doing too much laundry and using all the detergent. Mom made me buy my own stuff, soap, shampoo, makeup if I wanted anything decent—she wasn’t just controlling with my life, she ran the family finances with an iron fist.
Nicole looked up, surprised by my interest.
“It’s a sci-fi book, about these kids who are super-smart and they have to save Earth from some aliens. It’s called Ender’s Game.”
I glanced down the hall, my parents’ voices carrying from downstairs. I could tell by Mom’s tone that she was complaining about me again.
“I wish someone could save me from Mom,” I said.
“Maybe just do what she wants once in a while, then you guys wouldn’t fight so much. It’s not that hard to make a phone call.”
“Maybe she should let me do what I want once in a while.”
“She’s not going to, though. She’s not like that, but you’ve almost graduated. Can’t you try to get along until then?”
Nicole always seemed so wise, or at least mature for her age, and so reasonable, so unlike me.
“Probably not.” I laughed.
“You’re a nut bar.” She shook her head. “She’s only like that because she cares.”
“No, she cares about you.”
“She loves you too.”
“Not the same way.”
“I’m just easier.” She shrugged, accepting her role in the family.
“Yeah, you are.” It was hard not to like Nicole, and most people did, teachers, kids at school, my own damn boyfriend, which was one of the reasons I found myself picking on her sometimes. And she was so sweet—one of those people who always remembered birthdays and made personal cards. But, and it always made me feel bad thinking this, she was also kind of boring. She just never really did or said anything interesting. Not to me, anyway.
I’d noticed lately that she was changing, though. I heard her talking on the downstairs phone a few times when Mom was working, giggling and whispering, then she’d change the subject when I came into the room. I figured she was talking to her best friend, Darlene Haynes, another goody-goody. I doubted they were up to much of anything. What kind of secrets could my sister possibly have?
“You can use my conditioner if you want,” I said.
“Really?” She jumped off the bed and ran to me, giving me a hug, enveloping me in her sweet lemony scent. “Thank you, thank you.”
I hugged her back, wondering why she was so excited about some stupid conditioner. Since when did she care that much about how she looked?
*