My mother is trying to kill me.
First she invites our neighbors from down the block over for a 'casual dinner'. Casual my green knickers. For my mother casual is equivalent to a muggle's Sunday best. I was going to leave my hair natural (strait as a board), but my mother wouldn't have it. Four hours later and my thick hair is curled and pulled into a half up-do. Since I was little I have had a habit of twirling my fingers in my ringlets and my mother is already giving me the evil eye and the guests won't be here for another 30 minutes.
Then she tells me that I'm in charge of the cucumber dip. Fan-bloody-tastic. Hasn't she tasted my cooking lately? Maybe I could hide my concoction behind the century old pizza in the freezer so no one has to endure it. Seriously, I can't even bake pre-mixed cookies right, let alone mix contents from a recipe correctly. My mother must have me confused with my darling brother who's never made a mistake in his life. Stupid git.
Next she 'remembers' to inform me that she also invited my ex-boyfriend, who has no relation whatsoever to our primary guests. Hell has frozen over. I asked her why on any Merlin forsaken planet she would invite him, or even be talking to him for that matter, and she says "I like him, Sara. He's a nice boy." Notice how she said nothing about why she would owl him for no apparent reason. Of course she likes him; All he ever did was boss me around and tell me how I did everything wrong. My mom has been saying the same things for years.
Screw them. I may not be an angel like my brother Carson, but I'm not a complete fool. Putting on airs doesn't matter as much to me as it does to any of them.
I hate our stinking doorbell. It sounds like a gong thudding through our house. I honestly don't think there's a more ridiculous doorbell available. If our house wasn't made out of brick it would probably shake from the force.
I make my way to the door, careful not to catch the hemline of my gown with my heels. I've done that before. It hurt, my shoe was scuffed, and my dress was ripped. That was a very happy Birthday.
"Good Evening, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, James, Sirius. Please come in." My mom may think I'm an overall screw up but I was raised with manners.
Well, I'm glad they got the unspoken memo about dressing to impress. I don't think I've ever seen my classmates in ties so perfectly managed. Mrs. Potter probably helped them.
"Sara! You look lovely! Where is your mother? We must thank her for inviting us for dinner. And we brought lemon pie, your brother's favorite," Mrs. Potter smiled warmly.
Oh brother, my brother's favorite. If he were less coy about begging somebody to bring him lemon pie every time they saw him he'd probably have 50 of them hanging out in the freezer. Which he does.
"I'll take that into the kitchen Mrs. Potter. Please make yourselves comfortable in the living room. I'll tell her that you have arrived."
"Such a polite girl..." I heard her say as Mr. Potter led the family under the extravagant arch.
Our house was embarrassingly flashy.
"Mom!" I hissed as I shoved aside a frozen bag of peas to make room for the lemon pie, "they're here." As if she couldn't hear that obnoxious doorbell.
"I know Sara, where is Carson?"
I was spared from saying the obvious- 'I don't know', when the doorbell rang again. I was hoping my ex-boyfriend would forget where my house was and apparate into the middle of an Australian desert. Wishful thinking I guess.
Carson decided to make an appearance as he opened the door. I wanted to threaten my ex's life before he waltzed back in my house manipulating everything he saw. No such luck. Intending to initiate plan b I was about to sneak into the living room with the Potter's when the jerkoff's carmel eyes found mine. I felt like I just lost a stupid game of Where's Waldo.
"Sara," He grinned from ear to ear, "I've missed you so much." That grin could fool anyone, but not me.
"Hello, Marko. I see my brother has already welcomed you...Wonderful." I forced a faint smile as I stepped backwards, countering his advances towards me. I turned around dangerously fast considering my footwear and left the two to wander into the living room together. They had always got on well. Sirius and James however, didn't seem the type to enjoy such stick-in-the-mud company. They will probably be bored stiff before dinner. I already was. Honestly, anything would be better than this torture.
I like the Potter's and this way too formal affair would be bearable if they were the only company we had. I thought when I saw Marko sucking face with Sophie Jones that I would never see him again. After all, I did punch him repeatedly in the face until somebody wrestled me away. I was blind with rage and seeing him again sort of makes me feel like repeating the attack. Without a doubt I am still furious. If my mother knew that he was a cheater would she still like him as much? Doubtfully. I hadn't told her because I respect his reputation more than he ever respected me. I don't want our community to label him a man-whore. Why? Because I am a nice person. Too nice I think. He deserves to rot in the dark lord's bum-oley.
Dinner has been awkward.
Marko, Carson, and my mother are talking endlessly about; Marko this and Marko that, and Carson blah and Carson bloody blah. I tried not to slump in my chair or visibly heave any large sighs, but it was pretty damn difficult. Mr. and Mrs. Potter made noises of interest and inserted "oh really" and "you don't say", in all the appropriate places. James and Sirius were pretty quiet, but we shared some sympathetic, 'please, Merlin save us from this horrendous ego fest', looks. Yes, I did in fact get anti-ego vibes from Sirius and James. Coming from two egotistical boys that is saying something about Marko and my family's egos. The size of the sun, I swear.
Times like this and I wonder why the Potter's have never declined our dinner invites. I'm sure they were creative enough to come up with beleivable excuses.
"Would you please pass the cucumber sauce?" James implored softly from beside me, clearly trying not to interrupt the babbling baffoons bragging.
"Trust me on this Potter, you do not want that sauce," I whispered back, stabbing a brussel sprout with my fork.
"Oh no, what have you done to it? I already ate two helpings." Sirius chimed in desperately from the other side of james.
"Well, I made it, and I tend to muck up everything I put my hands on."
"Well if that's the problem Sar I think it tastes fantastic. You ought to be more sure of yourself."
"Like Mrs. Welsh and company," Muttered James.
I smirked and exchanged a look with Sirius, "Hex the life out of me if I ever act like them."
"Yes, m'aam," the best friends chorused, as if on cue. Kind of creepy.
I looked up right into the eyes of Marko himself. When did he stop talking and start eavesdropping? Not to mention he was giving me the evil eye, which made me sure that he heard my 'Godric hex me if...' comment. Not that I cared or anything.
"You've always been such a sweetheart Sara. Could you pass me the cucumber sauce Sirius?"
Marko always had a knack for disguising insults as kindness. However, his stupid mindgames don't work on me anymore.
"Would anyone like some pie? Compliments of Mrs. Potter!" Carson asked, interrupting the very ladylike response I was about to hiss at the devil spawn.
"I'll help you out mate," Marko stood to follow my brother into the kitchen. What a suck up. His motive for excepting my mother's dinner invite better be to try and date my brother, since he's giving him so much attention.
Once they were out of sight my mother finally returned to hostess mode and began asking the Potter's about themselves. At least the ego fest didn't last as long as it usually does, that is, the whole sodding dinner.
"Sara, would you pass the cucumber sauce again?" Sirius leaned backward to look at me around James, who appeared to be trying to fit a whole potato in his mouth at once.
I smiled as I reached for the sauce. At least I could make something right.
"James, really?" I asked finally after watching him struggle for a few more moments.
Sirius laughed loudly, causing the adults at the table to look at us curiously.
"What's so funny kids?"
"Mister Potato Head over here doesn't beleive in using a knife," Sirius explained.
Mrs. Potter gave him a dissaproving look, which James answered with a sheepish shrug.
Typical blokes.