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Next time, I would use YouTube. I believed YouTube had all the answers to every difficult task in life. I smiled at myself in the mirror, impressed with my handiwork.
I grabbed my makeup kit and went to work. I was about to use the dark eyeliner when Ciara yelled my name again, making me smudge it against my cheek.
“Great,” I growled, grabbing a wipe to clean the charcoal color streaking my face.
“I give up. I’m leaving. Sofia will kill me if I show up five minutes late,” Ciara said.
If only Mom had allowed her to spend the night at Sofia’s house. She couldn’t even attend the bachelorette party because our mom believed it was a lame party for ill-mannered women.
“Wait, give me five seconds!” I screamed, grabbing my purse. I packed my lipstick, eyeliner, and jewelry inside. I picked up my strappy heels and rushed out of the room like my ass was on fire.
“Sorry, I was styling my hair,” I rasped, running down the stairs barefoot, like someone escaping from a psychiatric ward.
Just when I was about to get off the last step, the worst happened. Everything in my purse fell out, and when I tried to pick them up, my hair loosened as the pins dropped. I stood upright and stared at my sister, who looked at me with murderous intent.
My parents looked frustrated too—Mom mostly. She was the type that expected you to never do anything wrong. She loved perfection, and right now, I was the opposite. They might die from a heart attack when they discovered the truth about theirperfectdaughter.
I could keep up the facade; I had done it for years.
“Sorry, I will just pick them up and—”
Ciara cut in, “You know what? I can’t wait anymore, not even for you to breathe. Call your boyfriend. I’m sure he won’t mind giving you a ride.”
I hated when she was angry. There was this look she always gave me, like I was the worst person to ever exist on earth.
Her dark eyes blazed in anger as she stared at me. It was as if I could see the fire in them. She had our father’s dark eyes while I’d inherited Mom’s cold blue eyes. I envied her perfect height and oval face. She could be mistaken for a model. I, on the other hand, could be mistaken for a fourteen-year-old.
“But I don’t have an invitation,” I grumbled.
Ciara groaned and searched her fancy round golden purse and then threw the invitation card at me with an icy look. “Happy now? Thanks a lot, Chloe, for making me late to my best friend’s wedding. Remind me not to pick you as my maid of honor, not even one of the bridesmaids.”
Ouch!
“Ciara.” Mom stepped forward in my defense.
“Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. I have to be on my way.”
She looked at me, the expression on her face so grim that I wanted to run to my room and forget about the wedding. She turned away and headed for the front door. I knew I had to face my parents next.
I turned to look at them with a sheepish grin plastered on my face. Mom folded her arms, and her fierce blue eyes focused on me like a camera. She was tall—taller than Dad and everyone in her family. I guessed Ciara had taken a quarter of that gene while I had taken Dad’s short gene.
“Chloe,” Mom started.
Her whole demeanor reminded me of my high school principal. That woman was Ursula’s twin sister who’d escaped from the sea.
“You owe your sister an apology, and this should be the last time you try something like this. We didn’t raise you to be so tardy.”
“I get it, Mom. It won’t happen again,” I grunted.
“Good. Give Grey a call now. If you’re twenty minutes late, then forget about attending the wedding.”
“Mom,” I grumbled.
“Twenty minutes, Chloe,” she repeated.
“Dad.” I gave him puppy eyes.
“You heard your mom.”
