The next day, Shelly's room. She entered with a cup of soda in the hand, drinking through a straw. She didn't have much to do, besides pacing around the room and finish her drink. When she was finally done, she dropped the empty cup into her trash bin.
At that moment, she noticed something inside the bin. It was a crumbled, colorful piece of paper. Curious, she picked it up and uncrumpled it to take a better look. It was the picture from three years ago that Stan had found. Shelly stared at the image of her thirteen-year-old self, glaring at her younger brother. It sparked some memories in her.
"Hmm… I think I could've been nicer with the turd back then." She reflected.
Her thought, along with her slightly regretful expression, showed that she wasn't exactly proud about many of her past deeds. That was evidence of how much she had changed since that time.
"Oh, whatever."
Deciding that she couldn't change the past, she placed the uneven picture on her comber and left her room.
Later, Shelly made her way to the living room, with her phone in hand. Stan was already there, laid on the couch, reading a magazine. She approached him.
"Move over, turd. I wanna sit." She demanded.
"Why? There's plenty of room on the floor." He answered, while pointing to the very floor. In Stan's mind, this was payback for Shelly having denied him seat before.
Shelly wasn't impressed, though. If anything, it just annoyed her. She moved to his side and delivered a hard slap in his rear, causing him great pain.
"Ow!"
"Now move it!"
Stan got off the couch and drooped on the floor. Shelly then laid on the couch, in the same position he was, and started using her phone. He tanked through the pain and sat on the floor, close to her.
"Yep, you're back." He muttered.
"I never left."
Stan rested his head on Shelly's hip and resumed reading his magazine. Shelly took notice of that, but ultimately let him be. They both stayed immobile for about ten seconds, until Shelly's conscience got the better of her.
"Sorry, alright? I shouldn't have hit you so hard."
"You always hit hard. I'm already used to that."
Shelly couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Deep down, she wanted to be nicer to Stan, but it was hard to change old habits. Sighing in defeat, she chose not to speak anymore and continued using her phone in silence.
On that night, Stan was laid on his bed, using his phone as well. He was still in his everyday outfit, because he wasn't ready to sleep yet. Then, someone knocked at his door, without voicing anything.
"Come in." He called.
The door opened, and the person who knocked entered. To his surprise, it was Shelly. She was holding a white octagon cardboard box with her left hand.
"Hey, turd. Mom ordered pizza." She reported. "You didn't go down to eat, so I brought it for you."
Stan was at loss for words. "Huh… Thanks?"
Without saying another word, Shelly handed the pizza box to Stan, who opened it. There were three slices of pepperoni inside. Stan looked at his pizza while Shelly prepared to leave.
"Hey, wait!"
She stopped on her tracks. "What?"
"I mean, why are you being so cool to me? First there was yesterday, then earlier today, and now you brought me pizza. Is there anything going on?"
The truth was, after everything the two of them had been through in the last weeks, Shelly was really making an effort to be a better sister. Not that she would admit it, of course.
"I'm… I'm in a good mood, that's all." She lied.
"…Okay then. You know, I could say that I love you."
That sentence stung really hard on her. She even blushed and steamed, and hid her face before Stan could see it. His brutal honesty was another thing that got on her nerves.
At that point, Shelly's first thoughts was to make fun of Stan or rebuke him for saying such a thing. But in the end, she didn't do either, because she actually wanted to hear it.
"Well… say it now! No one's stopping you!' She stated, still refusing to face her brother.
"The problem is… the last time I did so, you set me on fire."
"Whaaat?!" She turned to him in complete and utter disbelief. "The hell are you talking about? I never did such-"
And then, something sparked in Shelly's memory. She remembered the time when she repeatedly lighted Stan up, then put the fire out by throwing a bucket of water on him.
"Oh… right." She sounded regretful. "Anyway, it's in the past now. And I don't have any matches with me right now."
"Very funny." He snarked.
And Shelly again sighed in defeat. "Alright, this was a bad joke. I gotta go. Your pizza's getting cold." She exited Stan's room and stood by the door, pensive.
He was actually afraid of me? Of saying a simple 'I love you' to his sister? Come on, Stan, I can't be a person that horrible, can I?
She definitely seemed worried that as a big sister, she could never be something to Stan other than a bully.
Ugh, I think I need to sleep, she decided, and then went to her room.