Hi guys! Sorry I'm updating late, but honestly I'm supposed to be studying, so…

Anyway, sorry about that. Hopefully since this is the last week of school I'll be able to have a steadier updating schedule over summer vacay, where all I'll be doing is watching soap operas, old Russian movies, going to improv camp, playing soccer and writing Fanfiction. That is my summer. Very exciting.

Enjoy!

"Good morning!" Ella sang as she sat down at the breakfast (folding) table. To be honest, I only half heard her. I was pretty busy trying to not fall into my cereal and drown in the milk. There are many things you can call me, from aggressive to zabaglione, which is a type of frothy custard, but morning person isn't one of them. I couldn't imagine having to get up any earlier than I already had to, but my Mom did that every morning, thoughtfully waking me up right before she headed out the door by playing Latin music at the highest possible volume on her iPhone. She had left an hour before Ella came downstairs around 6:30. Ah, the joys of being a veterinarian.

"Gmorgng," I mumbled, my eyelids drooping and my head nodding. I could feel Ella's critical stare, and as soon as she spoke the fact that she was judging me was confirmed.

"Good grief," She muttered. I heard her pick something up. "Let's do something about your hair." As soon as I heard the word "hair," I knew I should be alarmed in some way, but it didn't compute in time, and by then it was too late. Ella stuck her hairbrush in my hair and yanked. I was up like a rocket.

"OWW!" I yelled, snapping my head up, which, believe it or not, worsened the situation. The second and third words out of my mouth were not quite as pleasant as oww. So let's just skate over that, shall we?

Ella had her hand over her mouth and looked suspiciously like she was trying not to laugh, but before I could narrow my eyes at her she spoke, setting the hairbrush down on the bare kitchen counter.

"Sorry, Max. But jeez, don't you condition?"

"Only when it's soccer season."

"Ha. Ha." She rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant."

I grinned at her. "Maybe."

She muttered something under her breath in Spanish. I won't repeat what she said, because this story is, after all, rated T.

"Elly, you do know I speak Spanish too, right?"

She smiled sweetly at me. "Sorry, Max. I forgot. Es sólo que eres tan blanco."

I made a face at her, but I couldn't really retort with anything moderately clever (not 'cause I didn't have a comeback, because I totally did) because she was…well, I don't really want to say right, but she was…not wrong. She was 100% Hispanic, with the shortness gene that she had inherited from our mother along with the dark wavy hair, darker tan skin and chocolatey brown eyes. I, on the other hand, was half, 5'8", had straight light brown hair and slightly lighter brown eyes, (the only thing I had been lucky enough to inherit from my mom), and lightly tanned skin. What's the word? Beige? Basically, I matched the color of our new house. I even had freckles. So, yes, I was the vanilla Frappuccino to Ella's caramel mocha. See, Starbucks metaphors! That is how white I am.

Ahem. Moving on.

I busied myself with my cereal, digging my spoon into the contents of my bowl only to find, to my dismay, the soggy remnants of what had once been delicious and not at all nutritious. Bits of what looked like cardboard after being left out in the rain floated unappetizingly in the similarly-colored milk. I wrinkled my nose, picked up my bowl, and carried it over to the sink. I dumped it over, watching my beloved cereal swirl down the drain. Behind me, Ella cleared her throat.

"Max."

I grunted gruffly. "What?" I turned around to face her.

"Is that what you're wearing? Seriously?"

I glanced down at my outfit, feeling defensive. "Yup."

"Oh, dear Lord." Ella lay her head down on her arms, then sprang up suddenly from her seat, bounding across the kitchen and grabbing my arm. "Come with me."

"Um, no thanks."

She tugged my arm, and I reluctantly followed her. "What do you want?" I asked warily.

"You are going to be gorgeous for your first day and you are going to thank me for it."

"Oh, no. No, no, no," I said, yanking my arm away from her grasp. "We have absolutely no time for that, Ells."

"Then we'll just have to make time. Because there is no way I'm letting you go to school in that." She wrinkled her nose at my outfit.

"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes. "It's all clean."

"Those are the same pants you wore yesterday," She told me pointedly.

"So?" I replied defensively. "They're clean! See, no stains!"

She gave me a long, hard stare. I stared back. Where did she learn to do that?

Eventually, she sighed, grabbing hold of my arm again and tugging me towards the stairs. "Listen, Max. After today, you can wear whatever you want. Hell, you can go to school naked. But today you need to at least try to look nice. I'm just trying to help."

"I know," I muttered. "Okay, fine," I said, "But just, and I mean just, today."

Ella squealed, pulling me up the stairs. "Great, Max. I won't pluck your eyebrows or anything. Just a new outfit. And a little touch-up."

Wait, who said anything about a touch-up?

Whatever. I decided to just roll with it. In front of me as we plodded up the stairs, Ella was still talking.

"I won't even make you curl your hair, Max. I mean, it looks fine straight, God knows I wish I had straight hair. You would only need to curl it for a special occasion or something…" etc., etc. We reached the top of the stairs, and I followed Ella into her room. I admit I gasped a little as I walked inside. Everything was so…organized. It felt pretty lame knowing all I had out of boxes in my room was a sleeping bag, a pillow, and a pair of dirty socks. Ella didn't have to know anything about that.

I watched as she rummaged through a large purple bag with white and black flowers glued on it tidily. She had spent an hour gluing tiny felt flowers on a make-up bag. My God.

"Ah-hah!" She cried, holding up a small black tube of…stuff. She set it aside and continued pulling out other…things, one of them holding a close resemblance to how I had imagined a torture device from medieval Europe would look.

Once she had a collection of tubes, bottles and pots sitting on her dresser, she led me to her closet. She opened the door and, to my amazement, dresses, shirts, and pants alike were hanging on the rack, organized by color. Jeez.

She began pulling clothes down, tossing two articles of clothing into my arms, both of which I examined closely. Hm. Dark blue tank top, white tee shirt…I glanced at her questioningly. She shrugged as though knowing my question.

"We're both pretty slender. I mean, you're way taller, but I have a long torso, so we probably have about the same shirt size. You'll need to wear your own pants, though."

"Ells, this shirt…it's see-through."

Ella rolled her eyes.

"That's what the tank top is for, Max," She said, as though speaking to a 3-year-old. "Go put those on. Don't wear a sports bra; you'll be able to see it with the tank top."

"Yeah, okay. Fine. Whatever," I said, standing up quickly so she wouldn't have time to force anything else on me and heading for the bedroom door.

"Oh, Max."

Busted.

"What?"

"Wear those new skinny jeans you just got. The dark ones."

I stomped out, hearing Ella's giggles even after I slammed the door. I found the dumb skinny jeans sitting neatly on the top of a box marked 'M's School Clothes,' after I tore it open, grabbing them and dumping the entirety of the new outfit onto my sleeping bag. I undressed quickly and tried on the new clothes, which, unfortunately, fit me perfectly. I met Ella back in her room, who gave me a quick once-over and nodded her approval.

"Good. Those colors actually look great on you. I'm a genius."

"I'm so happy for you," I muttered.

She ignored me. "Alright, back to the hair."

She attacked my tangles with her brush, me wincing but not complaining each time the bristles met my snarls. After a few minutes she was able to run the brush smoothly through my hair, obviously relieved the job was done. I was just happy I wasn't bald, because she had probably pulled out enough of my hair to weave a blanket.

"Okay, Max, it's make-up time."

"Are you serious?"

"When am I ever not?" She studied my face. "Okay, light foundation and blue shadow. Mmm, no blush. That's too try-hard-y." She picked up a tube from her Pile 'o Torture and squeezed some brown stuff onto her hand. "Max, this is just some foundation. You don't really get acne, but it's just to make sure your skin looks healthy and even."

"My skin always looks healthy and even."

"Ugh, don't remind me. You don't even wash your face!"

"You can't improve on perfection," I reminded her.

"Don't push it."

She spread the foundation (new vocabulary word!) on my face.

"This feels gross," I complained. "Like you've puréed somebody's skin and you're putting it on me."

Ella made a face. "Gross, Max."

I won't bore you with the details of Ella bringing out my "natural beauty," because you'd probably fall asleep if you aren't so already. (By the way, foundation does feel like that, for all you au natural people out there.) So let's just skip to where I discover how beautiful I really am and grovel at Ella's feet, worshipping her as the Beauty Goddess she is, yada yada yada.

No, I'm kiddin'. Spoiler Alert, that would never happen. But I will admit I was pretty shocked when I looked in the mirror 15 minutes later.

~15 minutes later~

"Wow," I said, looking in the mirror 15 minutes later. Ella hovered anxiously nearby.

"Do you like it?"

"I look like Prep School Barbie." Ella looked horrified for a second, until she realized I was kidding. She lightly punched me in the arm.

"Anything for you, sister dearest."

I smiled at her. Ella could be annoying at times, but I really did love her, and she meant well most of time. Plus, I looked awesome. So that helped her case.

"Thanks, Ells," I said softly, staring at my refection. My hair was gleaming, and lay over my shoulders and down my back. My skin was actually sort of glowing, and my eyes, normally a sort of boring brown, were bright and…pretty. I was something I had never really considered myself as. Pretty.

Now, as a feminist, I don't want to say that from then on I wore makeup everyday after that because that was the only way I could see myself as beautiful, because that it definitely not the case. But on that day, for the first time, I realized that stuff like this wasn't all bad, all the time. I looked pretty kick-ass. I could almost compete with Ella. I smiled lightly at myself in the mirror, then got up.

Ella hugged me tightly, then released me, grinning. Our Hallmark moment was over.

"Ready to go?"

I took a deep breath, taking one last glance at my reflection before turning back to face my sister.

'"Ready as I'll ever be."

It's almost time for the first day! This may be the longest chapter I have ever written on anything in my life. It was almost painful to write, because I'm very used to writing short chapters, but I'm trying to push myself. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review, they make my night :)

Also, I have a question that I'm hoping you will answer! How old do you think I am, based on my writing? Maybe don't base it on this chapter, because this was my first long-ish chapter, but guess! I'm just curious to know. Put your answer in your review that I am very much hoping you will write. (Hint much?)

Wait, I lied. I have another question. Do any of you guys read Jane Austen? Or Charlotte Bronte? I have been OBSESSED with Victorian England. I just watched Emma. So wonderful. Okay no more lies, bye guys!

Heh. Rhymes.

~Maro~