You know there's a game next Friday! I have so much to do and now I have to flat iron my hair, too?" I have to study before Betsey gets up and then teach her all of the cheers. I'm up early as it is because I didn't finish everything for second half. "I mean, you're so selfish it's ridiculous," she says. "We're not at auditions for a teen drama, you know. Her posture is pure pissed-underneath her plush robe, she pops a hip and rests her hand there-but more than seeing her anger, I can feel it. It's like looking at a life-sized picture of me in another outfit: She has the exact same tone of chestnut hair, matching dark brown eyes, the same lips that naturally frown when they're not smiling.Įlla's eyes narrow to slits when she sees my hair. Her bedroom is across from mine: We face each other head-on. Just as I step from the cushy carpeting to the light hardwood in the hallway, Ella does, too.
I gather my books and leave, gently closing the door behind me. Mom tries to act mellow, but I saw her OCD forehead vein pop out yesterday when she saw the state of my room-she's got enough going on, so I cleaned it up. It's got its drawbacks, but at least first half means that I pick the hairstyle for the day.Įxpertly moving through the darkened bedroom, I smooth down one last wrinkle at the foot of the bed and throw my pajama bottoms in the hamper.
I plug in my flat iron, wait for it to heat up, then quickly but meticulously comb sections and pull the iron along, making the curls disappear. Instead of sustenance, I opt for straightening. I haven't eaten breakfast, but I don't smell bacon, so I decide to grab something from the cafeteria. So things like tardiness, bad grades, and attention-grabbing clothes are basically off-limits in the Best household. One of Mom's major concerns is us standing out-and therefore being found out. I lean back and crane my neck so I can see the digital clock on my nightstand: It reads 6:47-thirteen minutes before I need to leave for school. "What's up, Ann Taylor Loft?" I mutter to myself, shaking my head.
I'm used to looking exactly like two other people, but I'll never be used to Ella's fashion sense. I finish applying lip balm, take a step back from the sink, and frown. When I reminded her of this, she said, "That's exactly why you're doing first half." I maintain that Mom was in a mood when she made assignments this year-math and science are definitely not my best subjects. I go to student government, chemistry, trigonometry, psychology, and history at school, then do the rest of the day at home.
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