Chapter 8 - Luna
The doorbell rings and I nervously wipe my sweaty palms down my dress.
Reid’s bringing his twin sister, Kara, to family dinner tonight.
She’s two years older than me and goes to some fancy school in the USA.
I’m nervous because I haven’t really made many new friends since I switched schools last year.
It’s hard when most of the other students have had years together to form their friend groups.
It also doesn’t help that the Queen B of the school, Leslie, hated me last year for running interference between her and Reid.
Even though they all graduated last year, I still have a bit of the stigma from that.
I don’t really care. I only have this last year and I’ll be off to a new school and a new city.
But it would be nice to have a friend. Reid’s such a sweetheart that I hope his sister and I can form some kind of connection.
Julian comes in first and gives a yank on my ponytail as he passes. I bat his hand away with a scowl but quickly put a welcoming smile on my face as Reid comes in behind him. I tilt to the side to see the girl following him and have to use all my control to keep that smile in check.
Reid's sister is freaking stunning. Her golden hair ripples perfectly over her shoulders and her makeup looks professionally done. She’s wearing wide-legged linen dress pants, an off-the-shoulder cream sweater that I think might actually be cashmere, and high heels.
She looks like she just stepped off of a fashion show runway.
Perfectly polished and elegant. My heart sinks at the blank smile she sends my way as Reid introduces us.
I tug the skirt of my simple dress down a bit and feel like a country bumpkin next to her.
My mom steps in and gives her a hug, making her eyes flare wide in surprise, but she quickly masks any other reaction.
I try not to be sad that this girl won’t be interested in being friends and move away to grab a stack of plates to set the table.
Just as I set the last plate in place, Kara steps into the dining room with a handful of cutlery.
I know my mom would have sent her but I highly doubt this girl has ever had to set her own table before, so I send her a small smile and hold out my hands for them.
“You don’t have to do that. I can put them out.”
She arches one perfect brow at me and moves to the other side of the table.
“That’s fine, I can do it.”
I shrug and go grab the glasses and napkins.
Dinner is as loud as usual with so many people talking over each other, until Mom calls for attention and rolls out her traditional weekly question to the group.
“Julian, you get to start. What was the best moment of your week?” She holds up a stern finger at him, making him smirk. “And you don’t get to say this dinner! I want to hear something good that happened to you this week.”
He leans back in his chair and runs a thumb over his bottom lip in consideration. She’s making it hard on him this week. He usually says something to flatter her but now he has to dig a little deeper.
“Fine, even though this dinner will always come in first place… the second best moment was when I discovered a new indie band that I think has real promise.”
Mom claps her hands and beams a look of happiness at him for getting even this small thing from him.
“That’s fantastic!” She turns to the next person and asks the same question.
It’s something she’s done ever since Atlas and I started school.
She would ask for the best part of our day and the worst part every night at dinner.
It’s her way of dragging those little moments from us to share - and I’ve always loved it.
As the others go around the table talking about their week, I catch Kara leaning closer to Reid and whispering, “Are they for real?”
A soft smile forms on his face as he reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze.
“I told you. They’re everything a family is supposed to be, Kar.”
I duck my head so they won’t catch me eavesdropping but I can’t stop the smile.
After dinner, my dad rounds up all the guys for washing dishes and kitchen cleanup and my mom and Gigi go out on the deck, leaving Kara and me alone. I chew on my bottom lip and shoot a cautious glance her way. I blow out a breath and ask, “Um, do you want to go to my room?”
She lifts an elegant shoulder in a non-committal gesture but says, “Sure.”
I lead her to my room nervously. She looks around at the band posters and art print replicas on my walls, runs her finger over the books on my shelves, and then finally turns back to me. She scans me from head to toe and sighs.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we can be friends.”
My brow furrows and I cross my arms. “Why not?”
She sits down on my bed and crosses one leg over the other at the knee, making her pants hang straight. Her non-wrinkled pants. How the heck can anyone wear linen pants and not get wrinkles from sitting in them?
“You’re just too… nice.” When I look at her in confusion, she elaborates. “You’re like a Pollyanna, a Mary Sue.”
I gasp in outrage and throw a hand to my chest, demanding, “You take that back!”
A small smirk forms on her lips so I scowl and say, “Bitch.” It comes out high-pitched and kind of snobbish.
She shakes her head sadly and twirls her finger in a circle.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means, try again, Mary Sue.”
I roll my eyes up to the ceiling and dig deeper, finally hitting her with, “Bitch!”
Amusement dances in her eyes. “Better… if you were a fabulous gay man at brunch.” She waves a hand to the armchair, inviting me to sit. “It’s fine. We’ll work on it.”
I move to the chair but halfway there, realize she’s inviting me to sit in my own damn room. I also remember who I am and come to a stop, turning to her.
“We won’t. This is who I am. I like being a nice person, and I’m not going to change that for you or for anyone. So…” I point to the door, “If that means we can’t be friends, you can go.”
She cocks her head to the side as the first real smile I’ve seen from her spreads across her face and what I think is a look of approval in her eyes. She pulls a cell phone from her pocket and opens the note app.
“Do you know someone named Leslie? Apparently, she’s been stalking my brother and I’m going to ruin her life. Care to help me with that… nice girl?”
I drop into the armchair and nod my head because I might be a nice girl, but I’m not a freaking saint.
“Leslie peaked in high school and she gives major Regina George vibes. Let me show you her Instagram.”
We lean our heads together over her phone and by the end of the night, I’m equally terrified of her evil ways and half in love with her. I hope I get to keep her.