Sisterly Love
[A/N: This was originally written by Rb, but I asked her permission to rewrite it. I'll probably rewrite it, but then again, I say that about everything I write, so . . . . Here goes:]
I have an older sister.
No.
I used to have an older sister.
I still do. But see, she's not my sister anymore.
She doesn't love me anymore. She doesn't care about me.
She hates me, now. She used to be nice. But . . . . but she's not, anymore.
She snaps at me now. Yells at me. Stares at me with that dark look in her eyes.
Sometimes, now, in those clear eyes that had that . . . . that innocence and laughter once? You know what I see? Anger. Hate. Exhaustion. Arrogance. And . . . . and a sort of assessing gaze, as if she were adding up my qualities. As if she were trying to tell whether she could win a fight between the two of us.
She used to give me smiles, and go places with me. To the movies, mall, Mickey D's. Didn't matter to me, as long as we could hang out together.
Now, she spends all her time in her room, brooding. Or by herself. She's never at home.
And when I ask her if she wants to hang with me, she blows me off.
There's a dark look in her eyes that didn't use to be there.
She shakes off everything we say to her, compliment or complaint, as if she's shedding water like a duck, or they're bugs and she's bugspray.
Where did my sister go? What monster snapped her up?
And will it ever let go, so I can have my sister back?
What kind of sisterly love is this?
There was a tentative knocking at Rachel's bedroom door. Locked, as usual. "Rachel?" Jordan called. Her voice wavered slightly.
She opened her mouth to call again, but then there was a grating noise, as windows were slammed, chairs were moved, and papers were shuffled.
The door flew open suddenly. "Yeah? What do you want?"
Rachel's voice emanated exhaustion, and was dripping with a tired irritation at being interrupted. Her model's face, once so open and easy to read was tired and lined. Dark circles framed her cold eyes, and she stood with a slightly arrogant and cocky air about her, golden hair hanging lank around her lovely face.
"I-I-I-" Jordan stammered out, "Um, I need help on math. I – I don't get this, uh, equation stuff."
The door slammed shut.
Rachel's voice came out, slightly muffled by the door. "Ask Mom."
"But she's busy!"
The door stayed shut. Then:
"Whatever, Jordan. Later, okay?"
There never was a later.
Jordan stared at her math test. Stared. And stared. Then stared some more. Stared, more precisely, at the gigantic score, written in big bold red print by a permanent marker.
"A 43?" she whispered, surprised. "I'm dead."
"Jordan, this grade is awful!" her mother yelled.
Jordan stared miserably at the ground. "I-I-I know. But . . . . but no one would help me . . . . Rachel wouldn't . . . . ."
Her mother's voice was stern and implacable. "Rachel has her own projects to do."
"Yeah, I am. And I don't need any little sisters bothering me, either," Rachel sneered. She stomped out of the room, and up the stairs, where Jordan could hear the door slam and the distinct click as the door locked.
Jordan knocked on the door. "Hello?" she tentatively called. "Is anyone there?"
"Yeah, come in."
It was a large room, filled with posters about some group called The Sharing. A girl with red hair stood up. "Hi. I'm Tori. Have you seen Jordan? He was supposed to meet me here."
Jordan flushed, feeling the exasperation rise up within her. Why do people always think I'm a guy? Oh, wait, I know the answer. Because Mom had to give me a guy's name.
"I'm Jordan," she snapped.
"Oh," Tori said. "Um, well . . . . . let's get started! I have a Sharing meeting to go to in half an hour, so we better hurry." Then she cocked her head at Jordan, giving her a questioning look. "Why don't you come along if we get finished by then? We can always use some new members."
Jordan considered for a second. Tom was always on their case to join it, but Rachel had always refused coldly. From what he'd said, he was pretty high up in the Sharing. And it did sound cool.
Maybe like a place to meet some cute guys.
She nodded. "Ok."
There was a brief twinge of guilt, and then she shook it off quickly.
Well, Rachel's not here now, is she? And I don't have to do what she does.
The meeting was held in the school gym. It was great, just as Jordan had expected. Some of the full members seemed a bit on edge around her, but Jordan assumed it was just because they were worried about making a good impression on her. They didn't have to worry. This place was great!
That was, until wild animals somehow broke in. "Did they escape from a zoo or something? Why are they here?" she asked Tori, who eyed her coldly.
The gaze unnerved her, and she took a step backward from this girl who suddenly seemed strange and alien to her.
"Andalites!" Tori yelled.
"What do you want with lights? Are you trying to blind them?" was Jordan's quick question, and the glare returned to her.
"Shut up, human," was Tori's terse response as she disappeared into the mob.
Jordan cowered under the bleachers, curled into a small ball, along with a few other kids. All hiding from those wild beasts, rampaginag around!
Suddenly, their shelter was torn away. They were revealed. Helpless in front of a huge grizzly bear.
Actually, more like helpless in front of the huge grizzly bear's teeth, but that's not the point here.
"I'm gonna dieeeee!" Jordan screamed, pure panic overriding her 'teenage-coolness' attitude.
Jordan? a strange voice asked. Jordan's here! There was no sound. It was just in her head.
It was odd. The voice sounded . . . . . almost familiar . . . . ?
Is she... another voice asked. Cautious. No. No. I'm just imagining it. Animals don't talk. They don't talk.
No!
The grizzly bear gave her a light swing with one paw, claws retracted, and Jordan fell like she'd been hit with a load of bricks.
When Jordan awoke, she was in a dark purple mist.
Through the darkness, a scream resounded. "Where am I . . . . ? Am I . . . . ? Am . . . . I . . . . ?" The sound was chilling.
It was her own voice.
Two bladed monsters grabbed her thin arms and forced her into dark, sludgy water.
Monsters don't exist, some odd part of her brain thought, forcing a small bit of rationality into her panic.
The rest of the panic overrode everything else.
I'm dying ohGod oh God this is all a nightmare isn't it ohgodogod . . . .
She screamed and spluttered and hacked and coughed . . . . and then . . . . then . . . . she could no longer move or scream.
Because a slug had slithered into her ear and taken over her brain.
The nightmare was her reality.
And Jordan ceased to exist, except for in a corner of her own mind.
A blonde girl emerged from a bathroom, stride cocky, though she felt anything but cocky, as she walked to where the twisted remains of the bleachers were.
The metal pieces were ripped apart. By Rachel's grizzly claws.
"Jordan? Are you here? Jordan? Jordan?!" Her voice was tentative to begin with, but had an increasing note of panic as it continued.
She saw that Jordan wasn't there. There was only one place where Jordan could be.
Rachel curled up and cried.
Oblivious to the drama that had played in a school she did not yet go to, seven-year old Sara sat at the kitchen table and slurped up the vegetable soup she'd cooked all by herself.
She swung her legs, eating the soup, being 'a big girl'.
It was the first of many nights that she would have to suffer, all by her lonesome self.
I have an younger sister.
No.
I used to have a younger sister.
I still do. But see, she's not my sister anymore.
She doesn't love me anymore. She doesn't care about me.
She hates me, now. She used to be nice. But . . . . but she's not, anymore.
She snaps at me now. Yells at me. Stares at me with that dark look in her eyes.
Sometimes, now, in those clear eyes that had that . . . . that innocence and laughter once? You know what I see? Anger. Hate. Exhaustion. Arrogance. And . . . . and a sort of assessing gaze, as if she were adding up my qualities. As if she were trying to tell whether she could win a fight between the two of us.
She used to give me smiles, and go places with me. To the movies, mall, Mickey D's. Didn't matter to me, as long as we could hang out together.
Now, she spends all her time in her room, brooding. Or by herself. She's never at home.
And when I ask her if she wants to hang with me, she blows me off.
There's a dark look in her eyes that didn't use to be there.
She shakes off everything we say to her, compliment or complaint, as if she's shedding water like a duck, or they're bugs and she's bugspray.
I know where my sister went. I know what monster snapped her up.
See, it was me who put that monster there. I'd do anything to get her back.
What kind of sisterly love is this?
[A/N: Well? Liked it, loved it, hated it? Send any and all replies to me at anifuture@hotmail.com. And take a look at my webpage, at http://anifuture.hypermart.net.]