Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Grace.


"So mom says that she wants you to find a job," Roxanne says conversationally as I help her clear the table. I make a non-committal noise. "I told her that I knew someone who works at a museum; that you could get a job there-"

My heart nearly stops at that. A job at a museum would be the most perfect job ever. I don't care if I have to work minimum wage, a job at the museum would be worth it.

"-but she said that you'd enjoy yourself and then there'd be no point to sending you out here," Roxanne continues. What was that? Oh nothing, just my heart flopping on the floor, you heartless hag. Okay, to be fair, it's not Roxanne's fault that our mother is evil. But still. Did she have to raise my hopes like that?

"Sure sounds like her," I mutter, frowning in irritation. Roxanne stops and leans against the counter.

"Listen, Grace, just so you know, I agree with mom. I mean, it sounds heartless, but maybe a little bit of experiencing the real world would do you some good. I mean, I worked at a farm when I was in college. Not the most glamorous job, but I turned out fine, didn't I?"

"Bah, humbug," is all I say as I shove a container of leftovers into the fridge.

"You're going to love Metro City, Grace." My sister smiles. Her stupid, pretty smile. "There's a superhero here named Metro Man, he's so brave."

"That's fascinating," I say, not really caring about or believing it. "A superhero. Named Metro Man. I'll be sure to holler at him if I ever see him."

Roxanne frowns at me. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to be grateful about coming here. I mean, my apartment might not be a five star hotel-" Au Contraire. You've obviously put your news reporter earnings to good use. "-but it's better than sleeping on the streets."

I sigh and nod. "I'm sorry, Roxie. I just...miss home." A lie, but it gets her off my back. Her face softens.

"I know. Me too. Don't worry, it gets better. Metro City has so much to offer. Especially the museums. I can drop you off at one before I go to work one day, if you like."

"I can't walk there?" I ask, frowning. Roxanne laughs.

"Not likely! I suppose you could take the bus, but it's too far for walking."

It's never too far to walk to a museum.

...God I'm a nerd.

"Well that sounds..." I struggle with the words. "Nice. Thank you, Roxanne."

Roxanne looks a little forlorn at my formality. "It's okay, Grace. What would you like to do for the rest of the day?"

"Don't you have work?" I ask, looking for a way out. Roxanne shakes her head, giving me a sunny smile.

"No, I took the day off so I could spend time with you!"

"Well..." I hesitate, not seeing a way out. I return Roxanne's sunny smile, matching her watt for watt. "That sounds great, Roxie! Let's...um...let's go to...the mall! Yes, let's go to the mall!"

Roxanne looks happy. "Okay! I've been needing to buy makeup anyway."

I laugh. "Sounds great!"

Oh god.

This is going to be hell.


"I don't know why you don't put in more effort into your looks, Grace," Roxanne complains, eyeing me critically as we walk through the mall. "I mean, I'm not one of those Barbie girls who cake on makeup, but you'd look so beautiful if you put even a touch of lip gloss or mascara."

"I always eat my lip gloss off," I answer. "Or my hair gets stuck in it when the wind blows. And mascara makes my eyelashes clump together."

"Okay, maybe not that," Roxanne concedes. "But your clothes would be a good place to start!"

I look at myself. "What's wrong with them?"

"How old are those jeans?" Roxanne accuses. "They look like hand me downs."

"What's your point?" I ask. Okay, so my jeans might have a hole – or five – in them. And maybe old jeans might not be best paired with a shirt that looks like it came from the donation box at a church. But hey, like Kahlil Gibran said: 'Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart'.

Oh god, NERD!

Roxanne sighs heavily. "Oh, Grace. Won't you let your wise old sister give you a makeover?"

"When hell freezes over," I say flatly. "Just because you're girly doesn't mean I have to be too."

"I'm not girly!" Roxanne protests, but her designer dress and black platform heels tell a different story. "Okay, maybe I am. But it suits me!"

"I never said it didn't," I reply. "It just doesn't suit me."

"Of course it does!" Roxanne argues heatedly, spinning me into a clothes shop. She plucks a frilly white dress off the clothes rack and holds it to me. "See look! Beautiful!"

I look in the mirror. "I look like a little kid dressing up."

See, I can't wear girly clothes like Roxanne can. Roxanne is all curves and sex appeal. Whereas I'm just...gawky.

Roxanne takes another look at me. "Okay, maybe this isn't the best dress. But girly can work on you! It can work on anyone!"

I take the dress from my sister and hang it back. "Except me."

"It will work!" Roxanne argues, but I can tell her sureness is decreasing by the second. "It has to. It'll just be...a different type of girly."

I sigh, feeling a headache coming on. "That doesn't even make any sense, Roxie. Are we done here? The sales assistant is staring at us." More like at her, but she doesn't need to know that.

Roxie nods reluctantly. "Okay, where do you wanna go next?"

"You choose," I tell her. "I could possibly pick out of all of these..." boring, clone-like "...places."

Roxie laughs at me. Oh look at that, I haven't even been here a day and she's laughing at me. Big surprise. "Well, there is a bookstore. I need to make a phone call, so you go there, okay?"

I sigh and grimace like I really don't like what's she's so cruelly forcing me into, even though I'm jumping for joy on the inside. "Fine. Let's go."

Roxanne smirks. She's not fooled one bit. "After you, madam."


Roxanne doesn't take long to finish her call, but even so I've managed to find four books in the short time she's gone. Roxanne doesn't even bat an eyelid and a swipe of her credit card later; I'm walking out of the store with my book bag clutched to my chest.

"I'm glad you came, Grace," Roxanne tells me with a small smile.

"I'm glad I came too," I reply, half-certain that by the time I leave, I'll mean it.


That night finds me at the desk in Roxanne's – my room. It's my room now. God, gotta get used to that – room. All the books I brought and bought are in five, towering stacks on my desk and one is opened in front of me. I'm reading about the wonders of the Aztecs when I hear the door open and Roxanne enter.

Okay, keep mind that history is like...my baby. I'm deeply absorbed in my book and don't plan on returning to planet Earth anytime soon, so I don't appreciate it when Roxanne waltzes over and starts touching my goddamn hair.

I stiffen, glancing warily at her. "What are you doing...?"

"Stop looking at me like I'm a psychopath, Grace, I'm braiding your hair," Roxanne says lightly, and I see the hair ties and bobby pins on her wrist for the first time. I frown.

"Well...it's weird...stop it."

"No," comes her oh-so-mature reply. Christ, she's stubborn. She's probably only going now because I told her to stop it.

"Seriously..." I say slowly. "It's creeping me out. I don't like human contact."

"You lie," Roxanne replies with a smirk. "You just don't like me making you girly."

The thought hadn't even occurred to me, but now that it has, I hate that too. "You're right. So stop."

"If you let me, I'll make you waffles for breakfast," Roxanne bribes.

"Waffles are your favourite breakfast food, not mine," I return flatly, but return to reading anyway because even though it's not my favourite, it still tastes pretty damn good. Roxanne makes a small noise of satisfaction.

I manage to read up to the Aztec's third method of agriculture before Roxanne speaks again.

"Do you really trust me that little not to confide in me?"

My mind blanks for a moment, before I compose my thoughts. "What the hell are you on about?"

"You're so distant," Roxanne says sadly. "I mean, I thought we were close."

I snort. "We were never close."

"Weren't we?" Roxanne asks, looking dejected. "We did everything together."

"Yeah," I say. "Because mom and dad made you. You always complained for like an hour whenever you had to."

Roxanne looks surprised. "Did I?" God she has a terrible memory.

"Yes."

"But you're my sister!" Roxanne presses on. "We should be closer! I mean, we need each other. We're sisters."

This conversation is getting too personal. "Roxanne. I don't want to be closer. Drop it."

"But, Grace-"

"Drop it."

Roxanne does, but not happily. She finishes braiding my hair in silence, then leaves as quickly as she came. I wait until I hear her door slam behind her before I get up to look in the mirror. I touch my hair.

She actually did a pretty good job.


When I wake up, Roxanne is gone. A plate of waffles sits on the table. I stare at it for a while, then drown in it melted butter and syrup, before sticking it in a plastic Ziploc baggie. After changing and brushing my teeth, I head out the door with my waffle baggie in hand.

So where to now?

Well, I could always actually look for a job. Of course, then my mother would win. We can't have that. But she'll win eventually. Hm. What to do, what to do?

I end up in front of a coffee shop a few blocks away. As I go in, I accidentally bump into a young man with glasses and messy brown hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry-"

He doesn't stick around to hear my apology. Prick. Oh well, if I had hair like that I'd be grumpy too. Wait. I do have hair like that. Damn, that's depressing.

After ordering a hot chocolate from an angry looking girl at the counter, I sink into a fluffy armchair and bite into my waffles. It actually doesn't taste that bad. Well, I guess it'd be too much to hope for a flaw in Little Miss Perfect. I stare out the window as I return to my job debate. A job would be a good way to use up the empty hours. And if I get a part time job, it'll be even better.

But on the other hand, I'd have to work. I'm too lazy for that.

GIVE ME A SIGN, UNIVERSE!

"You can't fire me, you useless bastard!" the girl at the counter screams at who I presume is her supervisor. "I quit!"

Without letting him reply, she storms out of the cafe.

Well that was lucky.


Despite knowing next to nothing about hot beverages and pleasant tea time snacks, an hour later finds me behind the counter of what I now know is called 'Bean Baby'. Cute name, I guess.

I wish I could say that my social skills are just so awesome that I landed the job with no experience whatsoever, but who am I kidding? It's probably a combination of the fact that they need a counter girl now, and the fact that I am Roxanne Ritchi's sister.

"This will be your co-worker," my supervisor, a scrawny man named Richard, introduces as he holds out a hand at a boy around my age with smooth dark skin and darker eyes. The boy is really, really tall. Seriously. Not even kidding. He literally towers over me. "His name's Keith, and he prepares the foods and drinks."

Keith tips his head at me in acknowledgement, but doesn't take his focus away from the blender in front of him. Distantly I hear the chime of a bell as the door opens.

"Oh look, your first customer!" Richard says in a voice too cheerful to be legit. "Come on, let's see how you go."

I wonder if this is a bad time to mention that my social skills with strangers (or anyone, come to think of it) is virtually nonexistent?

I look up. My first customer is the young man with glasses and messy hair from this morning.

Wait, what?