Chapter 4

I stood outside my sister's old bedroom and prep talked myself into knocking.

I could hear the low murmur of voices beyond the door and I wished dad hadn't built the walls quite so thick. Mentally, I tried to prepare myself to see Beth. Gorgeous Beth. Lovely Beth. Queen of bitches Beth.

I thought about leaving. Just picking up Michel from the living room and walking on out the door. I'd do it just to spite her. Just because I knew it would annoy her. But the other half of me knew it would annoy her even more if I was here, with a hot boyfriend. She always hated me having anything that could rival her own possessions.

With a deep breath I raised my hand to knock, and stumbled back in shock when the door opened before me with a sudden crash, accompanied by swearing.

"I don't give a shit about the flowers Bethany! Who gives a fuck if they're not fresh? Just get the cheapest shit you can find and get this day over with!"

I stared with wide eyes at the golden Apollo standing in the doorway, his face contorted in frustration, a tie strangling his neck. This was Peter? Quiet, well-mannered Peter? The Peter I'd actually felt sorry for when I heard he and Beth were getting married?

He looked at me finally, and some of the anger drained away from his face. "Sorry, you must be Ariana" he said, even though he knew full well who I was. I glared at him, feeling some (to my surprise) amount of protectiveness for my sister.

He must have seen the look in my eyes because he grimaced and shrugged past me. "See if you can calm her down for me okay?" he called back as he strode off down the hall, as if he were asking someone to fix him a coffee. Or pass the chocolates. I stared after him incredulously.

"Ria? Is that you?" At the voice, familiar, hated, sickly sweet, I turned back to the doorway and stepped into the room cautiously. My sister, all curvy 6 feet of her, stood by the window, her back to me, arms folded on her chest.

As I entered she turned around and smiled widely, though the smile didn't reach her eyes. Or add any warmth to her face. It was the kind of painted on smile a clown wears. Except Bethany, unfortunately, was much more attractive than a clown.

"Im so glad you came" she gushed, running forward and giving me a hug, as if this were just any other day and I hadn't just witnessed a fissure in domestic bliss. As if her eyes weren't red-rimmed and swollen from crying.

"Beth?" I asked, again surprised at myself for caring, "Is everything okay with you and Peter?"

Her smile got bigger, brighter, and I had to stop myself from squinting. "Of course! Everything's wonderful? Why wouldn't it be?"

Because he doesn't seem so enthusiastic about the wedding actually, I felt like saying. But I didn't. I went down the tactful lane, preferring to keep the peace, and I shrugged.

"No reason, just curious."

Beth shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing, "Silly Ria" she tutted, "of course everything's fine!" her voice was sweet but her eyes warned me to stay out of it. Keep my mouth shut.

I planned on doing just that.

"And anyway" she continued, "so I've just got to hear all about this Michel boy. Tell me all the details!"

I wasn't surprised mum had told Beth about Michel. I could just imagine the conversation.

"Oh Bethy! Ria's bringing a date to the wedding! A Date! Can you believe it?"

"Why, no mama. I didn't know she could even attract real men!"

So no, I wasn't surprised she knew. But I was surprised she asked me about it. Or was interested at all. Usually she'd just belittle it, treat him as someone only worth the vaguest of interests. This whole sisterly act threw me off.

As I blabbed on about Michel, how we met, what he did, how romantic he was etc etc, I studied her carefully, looking for any sign of outward change. Something that would alert me to this whole new act she had going. I hated not knowing with Beth. She was only safe if you could predict her. Once you lost the plot you were gone. Blah. Squished like a bug beneath her foot.

I was feeling very much like a bug.

But she looked the same as always. Late 20's. Healthy, solarium tanned, Colgate white teeth and a million dollar smile. Her eyes were clear blue, big, heavily made up in mascara, her lips berry red. We were the opposite in every way, including appearance. I had inherited the darker looks in the family, the paler skin, mum's too-thin figure, delicate face. Beth looked strong and athletic, voluptuous but not overweight. We were too different not to have rivalries, all sisters had rivalries. Only, ours, I was sure, had escalated out of control the day I turned 16.

We chatted idly for half an hour before I convinced her to come downstairs and greet all the guests. She asked me to help her dress, and I advised a floaty summer blue number with a sash tie and plain white flats. She looked pretty and wholesome and I felt like the twggy stepsister next to her.

But she was nice, chatty, happy. I felt myself grow more and more tense, waiting for the onslaught of barbed comments. None came. What the hell are you on? I wanted to demand of her, give me back my sister!

Then it came.

"Oh, and by the way Ria" she said, pausing before we left the room and adjusting a lock of blonde hair in the mirror. In the reflection, her eyes bored into mine, anticipatory and hungry. I tensed instantly. "We'll have to go out shopping with Veronica tomorrow, to get her brides-maids dress. It a last minute thing" she said, perfectly nonchalant, "I hope you don't mind too much."

Wham.

I was sixteen years old again and had just caught my perfect older sister having sex with my first real boyfriend. The day after I'd given my virginity to him.

"Oh Ria stop being so dramatic, its not that big a deal" she'd said, rolling her eyes at him and tickling her hand along his stomach. He, atleast, had the grace to look guilty. Still, he hadn't moved away from her, or come after me when I'd closed the door on the two of them. I had heard Beth giggle. Poor Ria, such an innocent. And then there was muffled laughter and a playful squeal. Obviously, he hadn't felt guilty for long.

Wham. Wham. Wham.

I imagined a commentator on my shoulder, trying to calm a cheering crowd. "And she's dowwwwwwwn ladies and gentlemen! But will she get back up? Will she make it? She's moved! I see her fingers twitching! And she'd UPPPP again! Look at that! Talk about a miracle!"

I looked into my sister's calm, tranquil face and smiled.

"Of course I don't mind Bethany, why ever would I?"

But I felt sick. And in my head, all I could think was bitch.

Bitch. Bitch. Bitch.

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