Okay, I know that I am also in the process of writing the two other stories for you guys, but I was reading some of them, and I knew that I like Twilight, so I'm doing a story with Esme, Emmy, and Carlisle. If you don't know who Emmy is, don't worry. She's a character two of my friends made up, and I'm still a little confused, but, I wanted to use her, so, yeah. Here is another story from moi! This is written in Esme's POV.
My life isn't always perfect, but sometimes, it can seem like it.
Read this story at your own risk. My big sister, Elizabeth Colleen Platt, said that if this pack of lies ever was told, she'd get my birthday officially canceled. And make me regret that I was ever born.
So I guess I'm going to be ten for a long time. And if you get caught reading this, she just might come after you. Beth says that she has everyone's address. (And she means everyone.) But this isn't a pack of lies. Lies are what caused this whole mess, and I swore when it was over, I'd never lie again. Not even to be polite. Not even under torture.
It looked like a regular Friday morning at my house where I live in Columbus, Ohio. But it just wasn't any old day. It was the day that my fourth-grade class was picking our Discovery Project partners for St. Dominic's annual Science Olympics. It was a decision that could make or break your whole year.
"Stop staring at me, you little freak!" Beth yelled in our bedroom, and wrapped her arms around her bony white shoulders.
"I wasn't staring." I lied. She'd been bragging to her best friend, Philomena Finch, that her breasts had doubled in size in just a week. Naturally, I was curious. Far as I could tell, all she was growing was a big fat story about them.
Beth glared daggers and pulled on an old undershirt. Ever since she turned twelve, she'd been very sensitive about me looking at her. Like all of a sudden her body is rated R, and I'm too young to see it.
Mom came to the door armed with a blow-dryer, curling iron, and the Look. It's the look she wears at the high school where she's coach. When she eyeballs you like that, it means you're about to get benched. Her players weren't the regional champions by accident. She worked them hard, but it paid off.
"Listen up, you two. If her any-more-yelling from this room today, you'll both be cleaning the garage tonight-do you hear me? Beth, you got that? Esme?"
"Yes ma'am." We said with two big sighs, and got busy making our beds. There was never any use arguing with Mom the first thing in the morning. She woke up as Coach Platt and didn't tolerate any funny business. She would usually turn back into the sorta nice mother after work. If she wasn't too tired from yelling and blowing her whistle all day.
I gave my comforter a final tug and set my pillow over the torn spot so Mom wouldn't see. It was just a worn-out tear, not an accident tear. Beth had one too, and I told her we weren't to tell Mom about it because we couldn't afford new ones, so don't even ask. If we could get new ones, we would definitely not be having any with bunnies on them like we do now.
Our whole room was Bunnyville USA. Mom had decorated back when we were little girls and we had a dad living with us and we had money. There were bunnies hopping all over the beds, even the pillows-and bunny wallpaper, bunnies riding bicycles across our closet doors, bunny throw rugs, and a very scary bunny night-light that made big giant ears and whiskers on our ceiling in the dark. Beth used to tell me that shadow was really the devil.
I sat down and tried to comb the curly knots out of my hair before Mom got her hands on it. She was about ready to cut it all off, but I promised her I'd take good care of it. I inherited a head full of curly caramel colored hair from my mom, and Beth got stick-straight white hair with matching white eyebrows. We don't know where she got it. (For the record, Beth is very pretty. But you didn't hear that from me.)
My sister went over to her secret stash in the closet that she didn't think I knew about. I stood up and walked over to the mirror across the room so I could spy on her better. This is a great trick that Beth hasn't even figured out. (I have a secret stash too, but nobody in the universe knows about it.) She pulled out some makeup, which she's not allowed to wear until ninth grade, and stuffed it into her pocket. I added to the mental list called, "Things Mom Doesn't Know (Yet!) About Beth." So far I have seven things on my list. And number three involved a boy and serious kissy face. When I got up to ten things, I was going to sell it to Beth.
An hour later, we holed up the bathroom. "You gotta fix it!" I screamed in my loudest whisper. "I look like a first grader!"
Mom did not approve of my hair this morning that I got from using Beth's full volume shampoo before going to bed with wet hair. I thought I fixed it kinda nice, but when Mom saw me at breakfast, she marched me to the bathroom and attacked it with Mother spit and a lot of barrettes.
Beth pulled out the bunny clips of my hair like a mean Mr. McGregor and tossed them aside. "Ow-ow-ouch!" I said.
"Esme, do you want me to fix it or not?"
"Yes! Just not so hard, okay?" Normally, Beth wouldn't come within two feet of me like this, except when it comes to my hair. Or anyone's hair for that matter. She's crazy for it. Besides becoming an astronaut, Beth is planning to become a hairstylist. She thinks it will give her an edge while applying for NASA. Wearing a space helmet all day gives you pretty squashed hair.
"What's that for?" I yelled when she squeezed a big blob of toothpaste into her hand. "Hey, you're NOT putting that on my hair!"
"Oh, just hush, Esme." She said, rubbing her palms together. "Hollywood stylists use it all the time." I tried to duck, but she nailed me in a headlock. She slicked back the tops and sides of my hair, sticking it to my skull. I closed my eyes and gave up until she finished. Trying to stop Beth was like trying to stop an earthquake, my grandpa always said, up until he died. "Sometimes, kid," he said, "it's better just to hang on and wait until it's over."
"There!" she said, adding some minty fresh spikes to my bangs. I looked into the mirror and tried to pull some hair back over my ears. She spanked my hand away. "Stop, you'll ruin it." She smoothed the hair back into place. "I don't know why you have to be sensitive about your ear. It's not that much bigger than the other one, really. It's just-" she broke off, studying me. "It's just it sticks out so much." She grinned, as a red flush crawled up my neck. "You know what Mom says-"
"I know what Mom says." I yelled, shoving Beth out of the bathroom. "It means I'm a world-class-listener." I slammed the door in her face.
Beth went on outside the door, mimicking Mom's voice. "God doesn't make mistakes. If he chose to point one of your ears out, then it must mean you're destined to be a great listener-maybe a psychiatrist, or even a spy!"
"Elizabeth Platt, get away from that door right now and get ready for school." Mom shouted up the stairs.
I locked the door and sighed hard. I'd never get a good partner for Discovery Project looking like this. I pulled a baseball cap from the back of the bathroom door and tried to stuff my hair under it. I didn't want Mom to see it before I left the house. She'd probably make me stop and wash it, and then Beth would get into trouble. And if Beth would get into trouble, you could bet I'd pay for it later. I scratched my head hard through my cap. Maybe I could tell everyone in the class I was testing a new mint-flavored lice medicine I'd invented. Our teacher said our project should be an exciting discovery or an invention that would help kids.
The prize was two tickets to the Museum of Science and Invention in Rockdale. The two kids who won got to take the whole day off school and be driven to Rockdale by a teacher chaperone. And got free lunch tickets, too, at Eindtein's Café at the museum. I'd eaten there only once and wanted to go back. If you ordered there only once before I wanted to go back. If you ordered hot chocolate, you got a little silver tray with a tiny cup of chocolate chips, extra whipped cream, and a peppermint stick to put in your cocoa.
Some of the most famous best friends at St. Dominic's started out as Discovery Project partners. If I could get Emmy Bloom to be my partner, we could be friends for life. She was the tallest girl in the class and the best girl at sports. I was wild to be friends with her. Emmy and her best friend, Kayla Quintana, split up last month at a slumber party. I hadn't had an official best friend since Lola Jo moved to Pensacola two years ago. Some kids were kinda funny toward me on account of my dad, but I was almost used to that. I had so many secrets saved up to tell a new best friend that I was about to explode.
And a giant one about Grandpa that I was dying to tell someone. Anyone but Mom.
I ran a dry toothbrush through my mouth quick. I figured I could skip the toothpaste today since I had a half a tube on my head. Beth's neon yellow toothbrush sat alone in a cup on the sink. I picked it up, made a silent wish, and tossed her brush into the toilet, like a coin.
For luck.