[It Hurts to Look at you.]
By Bittersweet
Claire stood in front of her full-length mirror, changed out of her flashy dress, and into the clothes that made her who she was. She was so discontented with what she saw that she felt tears dwelling once more. She stood there, wondering what Penny, her best friend, had that she didn't. Sure, she knew she wasn't the most beautiful girl in town, nor the smartest, or the funniest, or the easiest, she was just herself. Plain and simple.
"Claire," Dorothy stood leaning in the doorway.
She managed to turn herself around; her eyes still smudged with makeup from that morning. Her hair was knotted and pulled sloppily into a ribbon, and she had missed several of the buttons on her dress, leaving it lopsided and sloppy looking. She couldn't help but laugh at her sister; she was so awkward and geeky. She used to wonder for hours how in God's name they could be related. But, her eyes were puffy and sad, and Dorothy saw a cry for help when someone needed it, even if it was her younger sister. No words were needed to describe how both of the sisters were feeling at this moment; awkward. They'd never really had a truthful important civilized conversation, even amongst all of their teenage years.
Claire stood there, her arms limp and lifeless, like thread hanging from a dress or shirt. She looked so sad and pathetic, and Dorothy thought about the situation at hand for a moment before trying to give her sister some words of encouragement. She was new at this talking to her sister thing, and knew that if she didn't help, she'd never get into heaven.
"Go away Dorothy," Claire's voice sounded far off as she slumped down onto her bed and turned over the picture of the newsboys that lay on her nightstand with a thud. She threw her upperbody against the bed, the springs making her bounce slightly, and letting out a loud melodramatic sigh. Dorothy stood still in the doorway. "I mean it, OUT!"
Dorothy walked over to the bed, flipping her hair to her opposite shoulder. "I think we need to-- talk."
Claire sat up abruptly, practically jumping up from the bed, making sure that it was the same sister from the day before. She squinted at her older sister, and then looked around the room to see if there was another party that she was not aware of.
She gulped, "You want to talk to-- me?"
Dorothy knew that it was too late to pick up her skirt and flee from the scene, but she knew she had to go through with this. "Come on, we talk," she said unsurely, almost as though a question mark appeared at the end of each sentence.
Claire stared at her blankly.
"Sister's talk all the time," Dorothy reassured herself, twirling a strand of her hair like she did whenever she was nervous.
They sat there, staring at each other. Each unsure of what to say or how to say it, both with a nauseous feeling imbedded in the pit of their stomach.
"So..." Claire interrupted the staring contest, her voice shaky and unsure of itself. [cough] "Something you'd like to tell me Claire?" Dorothy began, crossing her legs and flipping her hair over her other shoulder.
"Bad morning," she scoffed, flinging her body back onto the bed and covering her face with a pillow. "Leave me here to die."
Dorothy contemplated on whether or not leaving her sister there to die would be the best decision, but decided against it. "Please talk to me Claire, I can help!" she said, nudging her sister's knee and pleading.
"Why do you care? You hate me." Claire said, grabbing another pillow from her bed and stuffing it on top of the other one. She sat there, holding her breathe. Not wanting to die, but at least willing to pass out to escape from the emptiness of her life.
Dorothy's jaw dropped, and the pit in the bottom of her stomach grew larger. She too suddenly felt depressed. She let out a large sigh; rolled her eyes; and flung her upper body back onto the bed. She lifted up one of the pillows and stared at her little sister.
"Talk."
"I'm in love."
"I thought so."
Dorothy felt better having had this little chat, and decided that they should do it more often. She felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, and she no longer felt like she was in need of a massage.
"Any ideas on how--" Claire began but was cut off shortly by her sister.
"That was a really nice little chat little sister, we should do this more often." She said smiling; obviously feeling impressed with herself for having taken time out of her busy schedule to help another, especially her sibling. She sat up from the bed, kicking a leg up as she did so. She got up from the bed and adjusted her skirt slightly, making sure it was perfect. She patted her sister on the knee, and began walking out of the room, shaking her hips and throwing her hair over her shoulder.
"How do you do it?" came Claire's sad voice from the bed.
She turned around abruptly, and looked at the poor little girl who sat Indian style on a twin bed with a faded pink quilt made by her grandma the day she was born. She looked like a little kid again, who had gotten into her mothers makeup kit, and had smudged it around in the most random of places. Innocence and insecurity practically bled out of her eyes and ears as Dorothy fixed her eyes on her sister, looking so helpless and incompetent. "How do I do what?"
"You're so," she paused, searching for the right word, "cool."
Her heart softened. She sauntered back to the bed, and put an arm around her sister. "You don't have to be cool Claire," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face, she grabbed her chin and held it up high, "You just have to be you."
Claire and Dorothy weren't able to look at each other after their sentimental moment. Both too embarrassed to admit to the sad truth that they had bonded in one way or the other. If nothing, they were worse off to each other, snapping and yelping every chance they had in front of their parents, not wanting to maybe hint that they had an actual conversation. And I'm sure if you asked them; they'd deny it.
Claire sat in bed that same night, with nothing but a candle burning. She grasped the picture tightly in her hands, resisting the urge to smudge her lips all over it ferociously. "If I want him, I can't be me." She sighed, contemplating all of the choices that lay ahead of her if she wanted to win Jack's heart, and she did want to win Jack's heart, nothing was more certain than that. While out with her mother that day she had collected a series of "new persona's" she could take, basically flyers she'd found all around town advertising new and exciting things.
She scanned each page, perusing them slowly, making sure that there was nothing she couldn't do.
"Model -pause- nah. Actress -pause- nah. Dancer -pause- nah." Just as she was beginning to feel sorry for herself, giving up all hope, the last paper in the bottom of the paper salvaged all of her hopes.
Wanted: Newsgirls! Are you looking to make some serious money and make some life-long friends? We need some hardy girls who are willing to work long hours, lug around large and heavy newspapers, bear back-breaking work, walk hundreds of miles per day, and is able to sing, dance and act like a real professional! If you qualify for these few topics then drop by the distribution center by June 18th and we'll give you your first 20 papers for free!
Claire ripped this page from the stack and put it right next to her bed, weighing it down with the frame from the picture. She'd arise early the next morning to see about her new job, but until then, she said her prayers, blew out her candle, and was determined to win Jack's heart by the end of the day.
By Bittersweet
Claire stood in front of her full-length mirror, changed out of her flashy dress, and into the clothes that made her who she was. She was so discontented with what she saw that she felt tears dwelling once more. She stood there, wondering what Penny, her best friend, had that she didn't. Sure, she knew she wasn't the most beautiful girl in town, nor the smartest, or the funniest, or the easiest, she was just herself. Plain and simple.
"Claire," Dorothy stood leaning in the doorway.
She managed to turn herself around; her eyes still smudged with makeup from that morning. Her hair was knotted and pulled sloppily into a ribbon, and she had missed several of the buttons on her dress, leaving it lopsided and sloppy looking. She couldn't help but laugh at her sister; she was so awkward and geeky. She used to wonder for hours how in God's name they could be related. But, her eyes were puffy and sad, and Dorothy saw a cry for help when someone needed it, even if it was her younger sister. No words were needed to describe how both of the sisters were feeling at this moment; awkward. They'd never really had a truthful important civilized conversation, even amongst all of their teenage years.
Claire stood there, her arms limp and lifeless, like thread hanging from a dress or shirt. She looked so sad and pathetic, and Dorothy thought about the situation at hand for a moment before trying to give her sister some words of encouragement. She was new at this talking to her sister thing, and knew that if she didn't help, she'd never get into heaven.
"Go away Dorothy," Claire's voice sounded far off as she slumped down onto her bed and turned over the picture of the newsboys that lay on her nightstand with a thud. She threw her upperbody against the bed, the springs making her bounce slightly, and letting out a loud melodramatic sigh. Dorothy stood still in the doorway. "I mean it, OUT!"
Dorothy walked over to the bed, flipping her hair to her opposite shoulder. "I think we need to-- talk."
Claire sat up abruptly, practically jumping up from the bed, making sure that it was the same sister from the day before. She squinted at her older sister, and then looked around the room to see if there was another party that she was not aware of.
She gulped, "You want to talk to-- me?"
Dorothy knew that it was too late to pick up her skirt and flee from the scene, but she knew she had to go through with this. "Come on, we talk," she said unsurely, almost as though a question mark appeared at the end of each sentence.
Claire stared at her blankly.
"Sister's talk all the time," Dorothy reassured herself, twirling a strand of her hair like she did whenever she was nervous.
They sat there, staring at each other. Each unsure of what to say or how to say it, both with a nauseous feeling imbedded in the pit of their stomach.
"So..." Claire interrupted the staring contest, her voice shaky and unsure of itself. [cough] "Something you'd like to tell me Claire?" Dorothy began, crossing her legs and flipping her hair over her other shoulder.
"Bad morning," she scoffed, flinging her body back onto the bed and covering her face with a pillow. "Leave me here to die."
Dorothy contemplated on whether or not leaving her sister there to die would be the best decision, but decided against it. "Please talk to me Claire, I can help!" she said, nudging her sister's knee and pleading.
"Why do you care? You hate me." Claire said, grabbing another pillow from her bed and stuffing it on top of the other one. She sat there, holding her breathe. Not wanting to die, but at least willing to pass out to escape from the emptiness of her life.
Dorothy's jaw dropped, and the pit in the bottom of her stomach grew larger. She too suddenly felt depressed. She let out a large sigh; rolled her eyes; and flung her upper body back onto the bed. She lifted up one of the pillows and stared at her little sister.
"Talk."
"I'm in love."
"I thought so."
Dorothy felt better having had this little chat, and decided that they should do it more often. She felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, and she no longer felt like she was in need of a massage.
"Any ideas on how--" Claire began but was cut off shortly by her sister.
"That was a really nice little chat little sister, we should do this more often." She said smiling; obviously feeling impressed with herself for having taken time out of her busy schedule to help another, especially her sibling. She sat up from the bed, kicking a leg up as she did so. She got up from the bed and adjusted her skirt slightly, making sure it was perfect. She patted her sister on the knee, and began walking out of the room, shaking her hips and throwing her hair over her shoulder.
"How do you do it?" came Claire's sad voice from the bed.
She turned around abruptly, and looked at the poor little girl who sat Indian style on a twin bed with a faded pink quilt made by her grandma the day she was born. She looked like a little kid again, who had gotten into her mothers makeup kit, and had smudged it around in the most random of places. Innocence and insecurity practically bled out of her eyes and ears as Dorothy fixed her eyes on her sister, looking so helpless and incompetent. "How do I do what?"
"You're so," she paused, searching for the right word, "cool."
Her heart softened. She sauntered back to the bed, and put an arm around her sister. "You don't have to be cool Claire," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face, she grabbed her chin and held it up high, "You just have to be you."
Claire and Dorothy weren't able to look at each other after their sentimental moment. Both too embarrassed to admit to the sad truth that they had bonded in one way or the other. If nothing, they were worse off to each other, snapping and yelping every chance they had in front of their parents, not wanting to maybe hint that they had an actual conversation. And I'm sure if you asked them; they'd deny it.
Claire sat in bed that same night, with nothing but a candle burning. She grasped the picture tightly in her hands, resisting the urge to smudge her lips all over it ferociously. "If I want him, I can't be me." She sighed, contemplating all of the choices that lay ahead of her if she wanted to win Jack's heart, and she did want to win Jack's heart, nothing was more certain than that. While out with her mother that day she had collected a series of "new persona's" she could take, basically flyers she'd found all around town advertising new and exciting things.
She scanned each page, perusing them slowly, making sure that there was nothing she couldn't do.
"Model -pause- nah. Actress -pause- nah. Dancer -pause- nah." Just as she was beginning to feel sorry for herself, giving up all hope, the last paper in the bottom of the paper salvaged all of her hopes.
Wanted: Newsgirls! Are you looking to make some serious money and make some life-long friends? We need some hardy girls who are willing to work long hours, lug around large and heavy newspapers, bear back-breaking work, walk hundreds of miles per day, and is able to sing, dance and act like a real professional! If you qualify for these few topics then drop by the distribution center by June 18th and we'll give you your first 20 papers for free!
Claire ripped this page from the stack and put it right next to her bed, weighing it down with the frame from the picture. She'd arise early the next morning to see about her new job, but until then, she said her prayers, blew out her candle, and was determined to win Jack's heart by the end of the day.