Living with Jennifer Lawrence

[37:] Fake

Maddie's P.O.V.

Day four, and Hillary still has her black eye and bruises.

Or so I thought.

The bell rang, signalling us to go to our next class, and while outside, it began to rain.

And not just a little drizzle, but a full storm, complete with thunder and lightning and the trees blew with great force.

Of course, a person would run as fast as they can to set the getting wet factor to a minimum, and I did.

But I couldn't help but notice Hillary frantically running, and when I saw her face and arms, it was stained with purple.

That's because her “black eye” and “bruises” were fake.

Her drenched hoodie couldn't hide her face, either. I have to admit, she looked like a freak.

She quickly traveled to the bathroom, where I followed. I didn't care that I'd be late to my next class, this was more important.

“You liar!” I shout at her right before she closes the stall door. “I can't believe you lied to me! And to think, I actually felt bad for you!”

She didn't answer, but I know she hear me. I spoke loud and clear.

“You . . . bitch!” Not only do I startle her with my words, I surprise myself. Normally I don't say bad words, but lately, they've been coming out naturally, as easy as saying “hello,” or “good-bye.”

“I can't believe you!” I scream at her, all while she remains silent. The temptation to beat her ass on the slippery tile bathroom floor was too great, but I had to resist. I wasn't about to complete a long list of chores again for getting suspended. No way, José.

“And I don't want no shit excuse of why you faked being beaten,” I demand.

No more whimpering and feeling small, useless and defenseless. It's time to stand up for myself, even if I waited until I'm almost a sophomore.

I cross my arms to show her how serious I am.

“Doesn't matter why I did it, what really is petty is that you actually thought I was jealous of you? Ha! I would never be jealous of trash,” she spat. “I can't believe you felt for it! My acting coach was right, I am a great actress!” She rinsed her face free of the purple make-up. The thing is, it looked so real.

I had to be the better person in this situation. But don't worry, I'll get her back.

Eventually.

●════════●♥●════════●

It took me two weeks to notice.

Jason has been in a really good mood lately, and that's usually okay, but I've been wondering what was going on. Normally, he's quiet and plays video games constantly. But now he always to wants to leave the house, and returns already fed even when Jen saved him a dinner plate.

So one day on the bus, on the way to school, I asked him. And ever since that first day we met, I've sat right next to him, and since I always call shotgun in the car, he gets the window seat on the bus.

“Why is it so wrong to be happy?” he questions.

“I was just wondering. Whatever it is you're happy about, I'm happy for you,” I assure him. “I'm just asking as a concerned sister.”

“I never questioned you when you get happy, why do you have to do it to me?”

“Sorry for asking,” I muttered.

He sighed. “You really want to know that badly?”

I nod. “Please?”

“I have a girlfriend, and I really like her,” he blurted out.

Those with siblings may understand this: it's weird knowing a girl may actually like your brother and vice versa with a sister when I know my brother best. I have seen his weird habits, the way he looks when he wakes up in the morning (and let me tell you, it's not pretty), and how he grooms himself daily. Knowing all of this and more, it's weird to see someone love all of that.

Being an overly hormonal teenage girl can cause a girl's hormones to go all across the country, and it also causes me to overreact, like so:

“What?” I emphasized. “You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend! How come you kept this from me?”

“It's not exactly your business to know,” he answers simply. “But now I told you.”

“I'm so happy for you!” I tell him honestly. “I have to meet this girl. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”

“I'd rather not introduce her to our crazy family.”

“It's better to be ridiculous than absolutely boring.”

“It's better to be normal than downright crazy,” he adds.

I rolled my eyes as the bus pulled to a stop at the school. All of kids rose and it seemed like an epic battle to see who can exit the bus the fastest. Me and my brother are smart, we wait until the majority get off, that way we don't get tackled and pushed.

I had to meet this mystery girl, after all she made my brother happy.

Jason pecked her lips softly and turned around so I can see her.

But when I saw her, she didn't make me happy.

“Maddie, this is my girlfriend, Hillary,” Jason “introduced” us.

The two of us girls squinted our eyes at each other.

“Why is she here?” Hillary snarled.

“Because, she's my twin sister,” he said proudly. “You said you wanted to meet my family, and she's all I got.”

“What the---?” Hillary stammered. “But she---and you. . .huh?”

“She's my twin. Well, fraternal twin, and you better be nice to her.”

I blinked.

No way. This can't be happening. Am I dreaming?

I pinched myself in the arm and silently said, “Ouch,” all while receiving awkward stares from them two.

“But . . . I hate her!” Hillary and I said in unison, much to our surprise.

Jason swallowed hard, then looked at the two of us and it seemed like he was thinking: Oh boy, what do I do now?