Chapter 6

Sundays are for stuffing your stomach with good food... and so is every other day.

The next morning, I woke up with the sunlight dancing on my face softly, birds were chirping at a distance and gently, cool wind flowed inside the open window and roamed in my room like an invisible spirit—

Then suddenly, the cooling touch of the wind was replaced by the warmth of a hand, and my mind thought back to yesterday. Abruptly, my eyes jerked open. What was I doing?

I slapped myself in the face. Focus on the sweet nature, I told myself sternly.

However, the beauty of the scene was immediately disrupted with Savannah's snoring. Like a pig, she made loud noises which would have made me laugh if it weren't for the absurdity.

"Hey," I nudged her butt with my foot hard.

It took five minutes of doing that to finally wake her up. She sat up slowly, her blond hair looking electrocuted as they messed in every direction. I had to stifle a giggle at her sight.

"Rise and shine!" I leaned close to her and yelled right in her ear.

She flinched away. "You little—"

I jumped out of her reach and stuck my tongue at her.

"Good morning, my bitch!" I cackled in a hoarse morning voice.

* * *

Savannah left shortly after breakfast because she had to babysit her younger twin siblings. After her departure, I contemplated whether I should go to sleep once more, but then decided against it. I wasn't in a mood to sleep anyway.

I resorted to holding a mini private concert in my room for my most dedicated audiences who went by the names of my dozen pillows, my desk, my chair, my cupboard and other such things. I put on my karaoke soundtrack, fastened my Mom's necklaces around my waist pretending they were waist chains and put on the biggest jacket I could find. This was it: my personal style.

Jumping on my bed, I grabbed my hairbrush like a mick. The first song that came on was Dangerous Women, and I channeled my inner Ariana Grande.

"Don't need permission

Made my decision...

Completely focused, my mind is open," I swayed on my feet like I was drunk and did a totally unnecessary hair flip.

"All that you got

Skin to skin, oh my God

Don't you stop, boy," I screeched like a dying whale.

After that song, Bitch, Don't Kill My Vibe came on and I was suddenly an underground rapper.

"Look inside of my soul and you can find gold and maybe get rich," I added a few yo's where I felt like.

A couple of songs later, I was depressed because I realized that my career was never going to work out as a singer or a rapper. I was sonically incompetent and had no concept of rhythm. Well, there went one of my future careers. I plopped onto my bed on my stomach and buried my face into the pillow.

Behind me, the door to my room burst open and seconds later a felt a sharp sting on my butt. I gasped, sitting up to find my sister standing there with an annoyed expression. She also had a missing flip-flop which apparently she had just thrown on my butt.

What was this blasphemy?!

"HEY!" I yelled.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "What were you doing in here? Sounded like a cow giving birth."

What the fricking shit.

"I find that very offensive, personally. And I was singing."

"And I find your singing very offensive."

I scowled at her. "Why are you in my room anyway?"

"I bought new face masks, wanna them try with me?"

I sprang up from my bed, eyes glinting and nodded. Something for a good skin? Sir, yes sir. I was so trying that.

It took us fifteen minutes to figure out how to put on the masks (yes, we were that dumb). Aimee and I were laying on her bed with our masks on. My sister's room was slightly different than mine; it was much more accessorized than mine.

For starters, she had a single rack full of plants just beside her window along with a wind chime that danced in the breeze in soft tunes. While my room had peach colored walls, hers were a palette of whites and greys. Her clothes closet was covered in post–its which were scribbled with quotes from all the books she'd read. Also, her bed wasn't hogged with pillows like mine was.

Aimee was telling me about how her boyfriend always did adorable things to make her smile. Aww, she's so in love with him.

"Aims, when's he coming to visit you?" I asked her, propping myself up on my elbows.

Her eyes were closed. "He said he'll come this weekend."

"Please tell him that he's only allowed to kiss you if he gets me lots of chocolates."

Aimee's boyfriend Preston was studying journalism in New York, so he had to live in the dorms there. My sister and her boyfriend were together since the junior year of high school; both of them were sort of an idealistic 'it' couple of school. When graduation came, Aimee had already decided that she was going to take online classes while she worked to set up her production house, and as for Preston, he was the editor of our school magazine so he decided to pursue that. Thankfully, both of them were mature enough to not be upset over the distance they had to put between them in order to shape up their careers.

In the end, they were both happy and so in love. Everything was worth it.

Aimee chuckled. "I swear one day you're going to make him broke with these demands. He will break up with me because of you."

"That's never going to happen." I laughed.

We fell quiet after that. I wondered about how Aimee stands being so away from him. Did she have those moments of insecurities that they show in books and movies? For a relationship to be this strong, the trust must be wildly strong.

Then a rogue thought occurred to me. Would I be able to be that good enough?