by Lind, Valia
I toss an arm over each of their shoulders. "And what did I do to deserve such brilliant friends?"
"Nothing. We're just awesome like that," Dakota shrugs before reaching out to hug both Chance and I. After a moment, we step back, stupid smiles plastered on our faces.
"Umm, can we watch some blood and gore now? I think The Walking Dead is on." Chance asks plopping himself down on my bed. “This is way too much emotional crap for me.” Dakota and I giggle.
"So..." Dakota turns to me, expectation clear on her face. I'm afraid she's going to bring up the dance again, but she surprises me. "I'm thinking we can bulldozer Chance into watching some Jane Austen, don't you?" Chance's eyes fly to us, the look of panic on his face. Dakota and I burst out laughing as I reach for my copy of Star Trek. Chance growls in our direction, before scooting over so we can take our place on the bed.
I glance from Chance who's half lying beside me to Dakota who has a thing for watching TV on her stomach and smile. I am truly blessed with the best friends anyone could ask for. I realize the dance was just a tactic to get me to talk about what happened, so I’m glad she doesn’t push it farther. The three of us just don’t do dances, and right now, that’s the best. I just need some time with my two friends and I’m thankful they understand that.
I let my mind wonder over what's been said, knowing each and every word is truth. It's way past time for me to start taking control of my life. Grayson helped me with that when he pushed me to follow my dreams in design, going as far as putting together the fashion show that's in four days. Now, it's my turn to become what I want to be. Yes, this means talking to my parents. Yes, this means taking a risk. Yet, as I sit between my two best friends I realize, I have all the necessary tools in my toolbox to be who I want to be. Now it's just time for me to use them.
As Chris Pine puts on his best flirting moves on screen, my mind drifts to Grayson.
Briefly, I wonder what he looks like in a suit.
THIRTY - SIX
You never realize what you have till it's gone. Toilet paper is a good example.
- Author Unknown
Dakota is staying behind for a make-up test, so I'm taking her car to run some errands before coming back to pick her up. I've been so out of touch with the world since my argument with Grayson, I’ve been doing my best to stay busy and get my head screwed on straight.
I know he's right. I know I push everyone away. I honestly don't believe I do it on purpose, but maybe I do. After all, it's much safer that way, right?
I definitely don't expect to see my sister when I walk out of school on Monday. She's parked by the curb, her vehicle a shiny green Toyota Prius, practical yet pretty. She's dressed in her typical matter, light colored blouse tucked into her dark slacks, long blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, nothing out of place. Suddenly, I feel underdressed in my dark blue t-shirt and jeans.
"Hello, Paige," I say as I make my way over to the car. "What brings you here?"
That's the thing between us. We're polite, cordial, businesslike when it comes to our relationship.
"I talked to Dad."
I'm not even surprised. Of course he called her after our last argument. In fact, I bet he got on the phone with her the moment I ran upstairs. After all, Paige is the perfect daughter. She's the perfect everything.
I look for something to say, something that doesn't make me sound whiny or immature, but I've got nothing. I study her for a second, before heading for Dakota's car. "I don't have time for this."
"Then make time for this." She moves to intercept me and I'm sure we're about to make a spectacle of ourselves. Paige and I can't have a normal conversation. Not anymore. Everything that comes out of her mouth is a polite judgment on my decisions, while everything that comes out of my mouth is mean.
"Look, I've already heard everything there is to hear from Dad. I don't need to hear it from you." I wish things were simpler between us. I wish she didn't dislike me so much. "Paige—"
"Brooklynn, you have to stop this." I fight the urge to yell, her voice taking on that kind of patronizing tone my dad wears. She's so much like him, sometimes I wonder how I even fit into this family.
"Stop what?" I turn, getting myself ready for battle. There is fire in her eyes that I'm sure matches my own.
"You know Dad is just looking out for you. You need to let him. Fluffy poodle skirts and butterfly bracelets are not going to make a career for you. You need to think practical." The rage boils within me and for a second, I'm afraid I'll literally explode.
"Poodle skirts and butterfly bracelets?" I ground out between my clenched teeth, trying to find some kind of balance. "What are we, in the 1950’s? Do you even know what I do?"
"I didn't mean it like that. I know you make things—"
"No, you don't know because you never cared to find out. You listen to what Dad says without even taking the time to listen to me."
"That's because you get like this!" She waves her hand at me as if I'm Godzilla or something. "You don't think! You act out and Dad and I are not always going to be there to clean up your messes."
Her words freeze whatever I'm about to say. She glares at me, the mistakes of yesterdays shining plainly in her eyes. Once again, this has nothing to do with Dad, but with the fact that she still blames me for what happened two years ago. Apparently, she'll take every opportunity to open up these wounds. I ignore the fact that I can draw correlation's to my own life and focus on the present. Well, I'm not about to let her get away with punishing me. Again. I take a calming breath, trying to be the mature one.
"So that’s what this is about?" I spit. She knows what I'm talking about. Of course she does. I watch her hand twitch at her side as she glances around us, as if searching for something.
"It has nothing to do with that," she finally manages, after a few tense seconds of silence. Now it's my turn to be on the offensive. I'm tired of everyone attacking me and pretending like they know what I'm feeling.
"It has everything to do with that. You won't let it go, Paige. How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't do anything? When are you finally going to believe your own sister instead of your dumb ex-boyfriend?" I'm almost shouting but I don't care. For once, I want her to hear what I have to say. Me. Not my dad. Not her stupid summer fling. Me.
I think over how things ended with Grayson and I realize I don't want the same to be true for my sister and me. I've made too many mistakes already and I won’t be able to live with myself if I let this go any farther. If I never try and mend any of my relationships, where will I end up? I drop my voice, but keep it firm.
"I'm sorry about what happened. I’m sorry that your best friend couldn’t be trusted. I’m sorry you placed me in the same category as her instead of trusting me when I said your slime of a boyfriend was the one who put his moves on me. And made me uncomfortable in the process, by the way. I won’t apologize again. I wasn’t the one to make the move. I'm sorry you hate me. But please try and understand, I'm not like you. I will never be like you. I can't be happy being buried in some office going over paperwork that is not my own. I need to be creative. I need to create. It's the only thing that's mine. Why can't you understand that?"
I wait for her to say something, anything, but she stays quiet, her eyes staring at her shoes. I've apologized a million times, I told her my side of the story, but she wouldn't listen. Refused to understand. After everything that’s happened with Grayson, I miss her more than ever. A million times, I wanted to call her and talk about what’s been going on. I’m tired of standing on the sidelines, watching our relationship passing us by. I need my sister and it's about time I let her know that, instead of running away every time.
"I miss you, Paige," I whisper and then raise my voice. "I miss having you as my sister. Please stop hating me."
Her eyes fly up to meet mine and I see my own hurt mirrored there. I watch emotions cross her face, too fast for me to identify and suddenly, there are tears in my eyes. She takes a deep
breath, and for a moment I think she's going to yell at me like she's done so many times before.
"I don't hate you." Her voice is so faint, I don't think I hear her right.
"What?"
"I don't hate you," she says again, a bit more clearly "I never really hated you. I was always jealous of you."
"Paige—?"
"You were always the strong one. Even as a kid, you knew exactly what and who you wanted to be in life. And you've been fighting for that right ever since. I could never be that strong."
"But you love what you do?" It comes out more of a question, because now I'm not so sure. I always thought she did, but it's been years since we talked about anything that mattered to either one of us.
"Sure I do. But it's not a calling. It's not a gift. Not like what you do." I don't know what to say. She's taking all of my coherent thought away with her words. It's like she's my sister again, the one that used to braid my hair and tried different lipsticks on my lips.
"Can't we get past this?" I ask softly, because it doesn't matter what Dad or Mom says. This is between us and right now, this is more important than where I'll go to school or what career path I’ll take. I think she realizes that at the same time I do.
"It's why I came to see you here. Away from home and everything that's Dad." I chuckle at that because it's true. "I'm just so tired of being in the middle of everything. I don't want you to be the exact replica of me. I want you to be you. I’ve wanted to call you so many times but I've treated you unfairly. I let other people make decisions for me when it comes to how I'm feeling. I’m tired of listening to everyone else’s voice in my head. I want to be a bit more like you, and take a stand in the kind of person I want to be. I've thought about this a lot since the last time I was home. I'm learning."
"You're not the only one," I say. I let others define how I see the world, how I feel about things, and it's only since Grayson came into my life that I got back to being me. Completely and totally me.
This is not the end, it's the beginning. We're trying, and we’ll continue trying to be something more than two people who come from the same family.
And that's when I do the one thing that I haven't done for years. I reach over and fold my sister in my arms. The hug is not like the others, not like the business ones we've accustomed in giving each other.
For the first time in what seems like forever, we're hugging like sisters.
THIRTY - SEVEN
Hospitality: making your guest feel like they're at home, even if you wish they were.
- Author Unknown
The next morning I stare into my closet as if I've never seen it before.
Taking a deep breath, I bypass the typical black shirt and jeans, reaching for one of my blouses instead. I sewed this one over the summer, from mismatched pieces of leftover fabric. The different shades of green make the shirt flow with colors, bringing out the green in my eyes with a bam. I pair the shirt with a black skirt I designed last winter. It's a straight pattern with two small pockets in the front, falling halfway between my knees and waist. I add my black boots to the mix, and a few pieces of jewelry, pulling the whole look together. When I stop in front of a mirror I almost don't recognize myself. For a moment, I think about my sister and the time we spent together yesterday. She would definitely approve of this outfit.
I'm so used to wearing one shade t-shirts and simple pants or shorts I forget what I look like in color. The outfit I wore to Grayson's house was the most daring I've been in a while. But I look good. The soft colors complement my completion, the material perfect against my skin. I'm nervous to go downstairs like this, even more nervous to go to school, but this is a step. A big one in the right direction. Grayson kept bugging me to wear more of my own clothing the whole time we were working together. Now it's time to be brave and actually wear some.
I make it downstairs and out to Dakota's car with no problem. Dad’s already left for work and Mom is barely awake in the mornings. I don't even think she glanced up when I went to give her a kiss on the head.
Dakota is another story.
"Holy moly, Woman!" she shouts as soon as I'm inside the vehicle. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend? Is that a bright color I see?"
"Calm down," I reply laughing, my face heating up at her praise. "I just thought I'd try something new."
"Well, finally. I've only been trying to get you to wear your creations for years." She pulls out of the driveway and heads toward school without asking what brought on the change. I'm pretty sure she knows, but I'm thankful she doesn't mention him.
When I get out of the car in the school parking lot, I'm self-conscious all over again. I tug at my shirt, then skirt, then shirt again, until Dakota sighs, placing her hands on her hips.
"Get over here already. You look amazing. Stop stalling."
So I do.
The moment we're through the front gates, I feel like every eye is on me. I may not be popular, but high school doesn't care. High school is like being surrounded by vultures. I can almost hear the wheels of the rumor mill turning as I walk into school wearing something other than jeans.
"Morning, Dakota," Chance's voice comes from Dakota's right. "And good morning—" Chance freezes as his eyes do a full body scan before meeting mine. "Wow!" he finishes.
"She looks amazing, right?" Dakota asks, her voice a lot higher than usual.
"Can you guys please stop making such a big deal out of this?" I gesture to myself. "I think Chance is drooling."
"Am not," he grumbles wiping at his chin. I laugh, thankful they're here, as we head to our class. Whatever today may bring, at least I’ve got these two knuckleheads to watch my back.
When Dakota and I settle into our seats later that day, I've received quite a number of compliments when it comes to my clothing. I've been asked a few times if I can recommend the store where I bought them and surprisingly, I'm not shy about telling people I made them. After the initial shock, the expression on their faces turns to admiration, making me feel like I'm walking on clouds. I'm talking to Dakota, and trying not to watch for Grayson, when a shadow falls over my desk. I look up to find Tamela's grinning face.
"So girls. Sorry we missed you at the daa-nce. It was such a fuu-n time."
"What do you want, Tamela?"
"Just to see up close this whole clothes disaster you’ve got going on. Really, no woo-nder a certain someone has his eyes on me, instead of this." She points at my clothes, making a face. "I can't bee-lieve we have to go to school with people like you."
I stare at the girl in front of me as her posse make polite chuckling noises from over her shoulders. I never understood her blatant dislike of me and mine. Typically, I would just ignore her and let Dakota practice her attacking skills, but this time, something bubbles within me. My gaze flickers to the student who just walked in the door, my eyes colliding with Grayson. I watch as he takes the situation in, his study halting on me and my outfit. I swear I glimpse approval and maybe a bit of appreciation in his gaze before it goes neutral. Tamela sees him walk in the same moment I do, her lips curving in menace.
"Really Brooklynn, did you hoo-nestly think someone like him would be with someone like you?" she spits the last word out as if it's garbage but for some reason I don't care. I bring my attention back to her face as she continues. "He's a woo-nderful kisser. Too bad you'll never experience it for yourself." There's that laugh again. The sound of it used to set me on edge, but not anymore. I'm calm as I watch her trying to get under my skin.
"What, Brooklynn? Cat got your tongue?"
Grayson moves closer, making his way toward his desk, his eyes on me for the first time in days. And that is all I need. I see Dakota's body ready for battle and she opens her mouth for a rebuttal, but I shake my head a little, hoping she understands I need to do this in my own. She does.
I direct my attention once more to the girl in front of me, piercing her with a fixed look. The laugh gets swallowed somewhere in the back of
her throat as she studies me like she's never seen me before.
"See Tamela," I begin, my voice indifferent and calm. "This is where we're different. I don't need to constantly put you down or make fun of your clothes to feel better about myself. But this one time, I'll lower my standards to where yours lie and tell you exactly how I feel. I could use a lot of big words that you, with your puny vocabulary of two syllable insults, wouldn't understand because I get my education somewhere other than teen movies. I could spread rumors, make up all kinds of interesting stories, but I won't. I'm not like you and believe me, nothing you do or say will ever make me want to stoop to the level of your pettiness.
I'm done letting what you say affect what I think and feel like. Go back to your posse Tamela. It's time for you to feed them so they come back tomorrow for another round of sucking up to you. I have more important things to do than listen to your whiny ooh soo annoo-ying voice. Buh-bye."
With the last word, the room erupts with cheers and clapping. I look around me, noticing for the first time that every single person in the room tuned in to our conversation. Tamela looks like a fish out of water, her mouth opening and shutting as she searches for something to say. I look at her, my face breaking into a sweet smile, raising my eyebrows in question. She stomps her foot once, then turns and walks out of the classroom, almost colliding with our teacher.
I back into my seat, glancing briefly at Dakota who has the proud mama look on her face. I grin in return, satisfied that for the first time I stood up for myself and I could do it. I didn't need my best friend fighting my battles. I could do just fine on my own. Sure, tomorrow Tamela will come back at me with something I don't see coming, but for the first time, it doesn't matter. It's only high school.
I sneak a peek at Grayson and find his eyes on me. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. As the teacher tells everyone to down, I watch as Grayson lifts his hand a bit of the table, giving me a small thumbs up.
