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“You don’t even like him!” Cathy screamed when she was leaving my room. Which is not strictly true. At least the fact that she was leaving my room. She was rather storming out of it. And she slammed the door in my face. Not that I minded, though. I mean, she was right, wasn’t she? I didn’t even like him. Really. I mean it – cross my heart!
Now, I believe I owe you an explanation. I don’t want you to be all that confused as you are now. I can imagine you are wondering what the heck is going on. More over, you would probably want to know who is he. Or Cathy. Or even me for that matter. And why she slammed the door when she was leaving. Or rather storming out, you know.
My name is Alicia Brown, and I am every parent’s nightmare. Ever heard of a black sheep of the family? That’s me. You might think, come on, girl, you can’t be that bad. Well, I am. I spend more hours in detention than in class. My grades aren’t that great, and I always – and I really mean always – upset my parents. I don’t wear clothes they like. I don’t read the books they want me to – that is if I read any books at all. The music I choose is either too third rate or too loud. In five words – I am nothing like Cathy.
Which brings us back to the point who Cathy is. And why she slammed my door. In my face. Several times. Not like several times at once, mind you. It was not like she was standing in my doorway and slammed the door repeatedly. No, not at all. It is just that she slammed that very door almost every single day.
“You didn’t have to buy the same top I did, Alicia!” Boom! Crash! Door slammed.
“Did you really have to ask if I had gained weight in front of all my friends?” Slam!
“What is your problem, Alicia?!” And again.
“You don’t even like him!” And again.
Well, you get the idea. The problem is I really have a problem. See, I don’t like Cathy. She is just always so good. So damn good. She gets straight A’s for God’s sake. Isn’t it wrong? I mean who the heck gets straight A’s? And she listens to all the right music. And she reads all the right books. Imagine that! Mom always goes, “Cathy this, Cathy that.” Wouldn’t it make you angry? Or at the very least wouldn’t it make you dislike your own sister? Yes, you got it all right. Cathy is my younger sister. And I kind of don’t like her.
Or rather I have a problem with her. I just have this unreasonable desire to have the same things she has. No, don’t take me wrong. I don’t want her grades or her music CDs. I don’t really want her clothes, either. I just kind of don’t want her to have them. Is it so wrong? Probably, it is. But hello? The girl should not have everything so easy. I do it for her own good.
I call it sisterly love. You can call it selfishness, I couldn’t care less. So, this sisterly love, the desire to help my sister become a better (stronger, at least!) person caused the whole you-don’t-even-like-him situation.
I don’t like him, indeed. But she does. That’s kind of the whole point. Oh, you are confused, aren’t you? The he I am referring here to is James Campbell, senior class president, a very remarkable young man, hot, too. Not that I cared anyway. I don’t like him. But Cathy does. So I did the only thing I thought was right at that moment. I asked him out. Like on a date. Just the two of us. You know how it happens – movie, dinner, hands holding. A date. A real one. And he said, “Okay.” Just like that. Okay. And then he smiled at me. Cathy saw it all, hence the door slamming. She said her heart was broken and it was entirely my fault. Which maybe it is. But I couldn’t help it.
Now I have a boyfriend. Or so I think. And yes, I applied for the same summer internship spot she did. She doesn’t know yet. But she will. Know, I mean. Eventually. And God knows she will be mad. And I know I desire her to be.