The Pretty One(78)

“Assumed?” I cross my arms, just to hammer the point home. “Assumed?”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” Lucy screams, holding her hands to her ears. “Stop being so terrible to me. It’s like you’re out to get me! It’s like you’re obsessed with me. You want to be an actress, wear my clothes, eat what I eat, date the guy I like, take over my friends…you’re trying to steal my life.”

Steal her life? Just because I eat whatever she does, just because I sit with her friends at lunch, just because I sometimes wear her clothes, just because I tried out for the part she wanted…

“I don’t want your life. I just want Drew.” I take a step back and take a deep breath. “And the truth of the matter is, he wants me, too. He asked me to the fall festival, Lucy. Me. Not you.”

“So why didn’t you accept? Why did you go with Simon instead?”

“Because…because you liked him and also…I thought Drew only liked me because I was pretty.”

“You’re pathetic!” Lucy yells. “You’ve become such a…such a conceited, selfish bitch.”

Lucy never swears. The sheer force of her words sends me reeling backward, clutching my chest. She bursts into tears, hysterically sobbing, and sits back down on the edge of our parents’ bed. “I just want things to be the way they were.”

“The way they were?” Suddenly I’m strong again. “You mean with you always being the one in the spotlight and me always stuck in the shadows, cheering you on? With you always being the strong one, the confident one, the one who always has to take care of her poor, lonely, ugly little sister? Is that what you want? Is that what you miss?”

Lucy doesn’t answer.

“You know why you’re so mad at me?” I’m yelling, but I don’t care. “Because I finally got something that you wanted. And you can’t stand it.” I’m breathing hard. “I thought I wanted things to be like they were between us before, too. But I’m realizing I don’t. I want to be able to win sometimes, too. I want to be able to get what I want, too.”

She clenches her fists, and for a moment I think she’s going to slug me. Instead she pushes past me and stomps down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” I shout, as Lucy unlocks the front door.

“I’m going back to the dance and you can sit here by yourself. Eat a bag of Oreos while you’re at it.”

It is a low blow, made even worse by the fact that we don’t have any Oreos. I already ate them.



Fortunately, I have not eaten the Doritos. Still in my dress, I grab the Doritos and head back upstairs to the hall bathroom. I turn on the light and stop, staring at my reflection. As I look at the high cheekbones; the small, almost perfectly shaped nose; the straight white even teeth, there is no sense of recognition or familiarity. I’m looking at the face of a stranger.

I turn on the water and grab a bar of soap, scrubbing all the makeup off my face. I let down my hair and yank it back in a ponytail. I take off my dress and put on my pajamas. I leave my dress in a pile on my floor and head back downstairs. I sit on the couch facing the door, waiting for Mom to come home, my ire at her absence increasing by the minute. By the time she arrives (two hours later), I have not only finished off an entire one-pound bag of Doritos, I’m working my way through an old, stale bag of chocolate chips that I found in the freezer.

“Hello?” Mom calls out, opening the door.

“Hello,” I say calmly from the kitchen.

“Megan?” she says, walking into the kitchen and turning on the overhead light. She takes one look at me and stops still. “What’s wrong?”

“Where have you been?” I ask.

“I dropped your dad off at the airport and then I met Francis for dinner in Little Italy. What’s going on?” she asks, concerned.

“Why are you home so early?”

“You missed it,” I say quietly. “You missed it all per usual.”

“Missed what?”

“Lucy and me…it was terrible.”

“Did you guys have a fight?” Mom says gently, sitting next to me.

“Drew and I kind of got together at the dance and Lucy’s big-mouthed friend Annie saw us.” I say this like the whole thing is Annie’s fault.

“Oh,” Mom says. I half expect her to jump away from me in horror, but instead she puts an arm around me and hugs me.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I say, slobbering on her shoulder. “It’s just…after our talk, I started to think that you were right, that Drew only liked me because of the way I look. And I thought, at least Simon loves me for who I am. And if I went to the dance with Simon, then he would be happy, Lucy would be happy…”

“But what about you?” Mom asks.

“Exactly! And you know what else? Drew didn’t even ask Lucy to the dance, Mom. She made it all up. She knew I liked him and still…”

“I don’t know if you can blame this on Lucy. You were already going with Simon, right?”

My mom has a point. Not that it makes me feel any better.

“Yes, but you know how I feel about Drew. And she knows, too. She knew all along. She was trying to hurt me.”

“I’m not saying what she did was right, but I’m not so sure she was just trying to hurt you. Lucy’s been struggling lately, too, just like you. Sometimes people find themselves in a situation that’s new and unfamiliar and they get swept up in the emotion of it all. As a result, they say and do surprising things.”