“My turn,” She practically shouted and grabbed mom’s car keys. She then proceeded to spring across the room like an advert for long life energizer batteries. My sister always seemed so perky, unnaturally so if you ask me, sometimes I wonder if she has a secret crack habit. Her excessive perkiness is always annoying, and I also can’t help wondering how it is that we came out of the same womb. It’s hard to believe we came out same person, let alone bodily organ.
We all piled into the car, my mother drives a ludicrously over-priced SUV and she can barely see over the steering wheel. It’s not like she needed one. She basically drives us to school and back, to the hairdresser, and shopping center. It’s not like she’s driving over rocks and through mud to buy groceries. The most off-roading she’d ever done was parking on the pavement outside the shopping center during the Christmas shopping rush. There was no parking and she mounted a pavement. She thought it was very exciting.
“Ease her out,” my mom said, looking nervous and pale, despite the six layers of self-tan.
“I am”
My sister jerked the car into reverse and my head bashed against the backseat.
“You’re not.”
“I am,” she screeched.
“Look where you’re reversing. Check your mirrors!”
“I am. I am. You’re making me freak out, Mom, just stop.”
“Stop telling me I’m freaking you out!”
And the bickering started. This is why I hated it when it was her turn to drive. We both passed our learners a few months ago and have been taking lessons, some more successfully than others. It seems my sister’s so-called multi-tasting ability does not extent to the driving of vehicles, it seems she is unable to drive and think.
“So where did you go on Saturday night?” Mackenzie looked at me in the rearview mirror.
“Stop looking at your sister when you drive, focus on the road,” my mother sounded like she was bordering on a panic attack.
“I am. I am.”
I rolled my eyes hoping she wouldn’t see. “I left. Party was boring.”
“Mike was looking good.” Her tone went all lilty and it had a distinct teasing quality to it. She always teased me about Mike.
“Stop talking like that in front of me.” My prudish mother feigned shock, as though she doesn’t know that my sister can be a total slag sometimes.
“I wouldn’t know.” I shrugged deliberately, trying to downplay the whole thing. My insides wewre on fire though and no amount of casual, deliberate shrugging would change that.
“I don’t get you guys. How can you just be friends. It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird.”
As a stop street approached, my sister slammed on breaks so hard that we all rocked back and forth violently. She seemed to be oblivious though and turned with an ernest look on her face. “Maria. You can tell us if you’re gay.”
“What?” My mother screeched and turned to look at me. Now there were two faces staring at me through the partition.
“Are you gay?” My mother looked even more panicked. Frightened even.
My sister placed a reassuring hand on my mothers shoulder, “It’s okay, Mom. It’s . It’s totally acceptable now. Hey, Maria?”
My mother held her head like it was the end of the word. A gay soccer playing daughter.
“I knew that soccer was no good for you.” Just as I thought it, she said it. So predicable. I sighed.
“I’m not gay, Mom. Mike and I are just friends.”
“Are you sure?” She still looked terrified and for a moment I thought of telling her I was gay and watching her world spin out and her expectations of me crash and burn even more. Watching her call prayer groups and pray for my depraved soul to be saved.
My sister looked at me with a mocking eye. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m just kidding. Of course she’s not gay, she’s just secretly in love with Mike.” My sister smiled at me, it was cruel and turned my guts. My cheeks flamed with heat and I hung my head. I couldnt' look nonchalant right now, no matter how hard I tried.
I felt like I was dying inside.
Chapter 6 - Mike
"Someone walked up to you and just kissed you?" Brett stared at me with eyes that looked like they were about to pop out of his head and roll across the floor.
"Yip."
"Damn, why doesn't that kind of shit ever happen to me?"
"Cos you're a douche."
"It's not that, I just don't have your Ken doll looks." Brett's alway liked to mock me about the way I look. Last week he suggested that I should learn to sing and dance in sync and join a boy band. He said he would manage me and that we'd be rich, on account of the fangirls that would follow me and swoon. He used the word swoon. Who uses that word? Didn't they only swoon in Shakespearean times?
"It's so unfair." He mock punched me on the arm, and actually looked like he'd hurt his knuckles. Brett is about the most unsporty guy you'll ever meet, he's constantly making up excuses to get out of gym, he even faked a limp and walked on crutches for a whole semester once. He's also getting a bit pudgy around the middle, something he keeps pointing out as if he's proud of it. Only Brett could do that and get away with it. He's not the kind of guy I would
