“Yeah—whore.”
Stopping, I snag Sandy by the wrist, and pull her to the side. “Why do you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Say shit like that?”
“Awe, what's wrong? Does the poor baby not like it when I make fun of his girlfriend?”
“She's not my girlfriend, Sandy. See? This is exactly what I'm talking about.” Running my hand across my jaw, I shake my head. “You're such a bitch sometimes.”
“Maybe I wouldn't have to be such a bitch if your taste in women was better.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says matter of fact.
“All right, who would you chose for me then? Sara Noones? Callie Wise?”
“Come on, Lyle, you're better than both of those girls. You're better than majority of the girls in our school, that's for sure. I wouldn't pick anyone here.” She looks up and down the hall, glancing over the girls around us. “I can tell you whoever I pick would have to be like me.”
“You? That's gross, Sandy, I don't want a girl that's like you. That'd be like I was dating my sister.” Sticking out my tongue, I fake gag as I hold my chest.
“What's so gross about that? If there's anyone who's a perfect fit for you, it's your twin.”
Is she serious right now?
Arching a brow, I stare at her. Her lip is pulling back into a small smile, and she's staring right back. I'm questioning the seriousness of what she's saying.
She can't really think she's the perfect match for me. We're brother and sister, that's disgusting. Shaking the thought away, I ignore the idea completely.
She's just fucking with me, I know she's fucking with me.
“Fuck you, stop being weird,” I say, giving her a playful shove.
“I'm just saying that you have to find someone who's compatible, and it's definitely not her.”
Crooking my jaw, I counter her. “Obviously we see things differently because I was going to ask her to prom, and you went and fucked it all up with your little portfolio game. Now she won't talk to me at all.”
“Wow, you're getting shot down by a fucking loser.” Sandy laughs, adjusting her purse on her shoulder, and her books in her arms. “You're a fucking idiot, you know that?”
“I'm an idiot?”
“Yeah, that's what I said. You're an idiot.”
“Please, tell me why I'm the idiot here?” I draw out my voice, making sure she knows I don't really give a shit what she thinks, or believe her anyway.
I don't need my sister to try and give me life lessons, we're the same freaking age. We've been through the same shit. There's nothing she can tell me that I don't already know.
“You're an idiot because you actually give a fuck about that girl and what she thinks. Why can't you see that she's a nobody? What is it going to take for you to see she'll never be on your level? She means nothing and she is nothing. We're Vox's, Lyle, mingling with a girl like her will only bring you down.”
I know she sounds like a horrible person, but deep down I believe my sister really only thinks she's looking out for me. Sandy wants what's best for me, just like I want what's best for her.
Of course, my sister has a funny way of showing me she cares. She'll tear down everyone around us bit by bit in order to raise us up. She's been that way for as long as I can remember.
Some people see value in status, in objects, in possessions. That’s my sister. She measures your worth by the car you drive and the clothes on your back. It's not her fault, that's how we were brought up.
I just haven't always seen the world or the people in it the same way my sister does.
“Right, thank you for that powerful motivational speech. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.” Pointing over my shoulder with my thumb, I start to walk backwards. “I'm going home to get ready for tonight, I'll catch you later, San.”
“Wait,” she says, holding out her hand. “You're still going tonight? I thought you weren't because you don't have a date.”
“I'm allowed to change my mind, aren't I?” Shrugging a shoulder, I start walking backwards. “Besides, I did rent that tux, I'd hate to see it go to waste.”
“Sure, it would be a waste.” Sandy smiles, watching me as I go. It's a fake smile. She doesn't mean it.
I can always feel her eyes, I can always feel her eyes. It doesn't matter where we are, but I know when she's watching me.
I'm not sure if it's the twin sense, or just the fact that she can rip you open with one good, heavy glare. She watches me walk down the hall until I turn the corner, and out of her line if sight.
The burning sensation dissipates as I break that tie between us.
My tux is waiting for me at home, hanging on the back of the closet door. A small plastic box, holding a purple corsage, is sitting on my dresser next to it. Picking up the box, I twist it around, and look at the flower inside.
It's supposed to be Dalia's corsage. I bought it for her. I spent half an hour trying to pick out the perfect one. And for what? For nothing. She won't even give me the time of day to explain myself or tell her I'm sorry.
I didn't even do anything.
Holding the flower over the trash, I almost let it go. And then I change my mind. I'm not giving up on this, on her, on anything that I want. I've never been someone who backs down, and I'm not going to start now.
Slipping into my tux, I gel my hair, and spray my neck with some cologne. I'm going to the prom anyway, stag, and I don't even give a shit. I'm leaving my options open.
Maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe I'll get a chance to right all of the wrong she feels.
The sign above the door reads, Winter In May.
