A Collection of Stories

The Stranger

"Uck!" was the response from the girl at the kitchen counter. I turned and stared at her.

"What's the matter?"

Her smoky eyes shot me a look which said: "Seriously, Thia?"

"Yes, seriously, Amelia," I said, placing my hands on my hips, returning her sassy expression. "What's the deal? You scorn at my cooking and I'm supposed to know why? C'mon I'm not your mom and I don't read minds."

The girl sighed, pushing her green, highlighted mane from her face.

"I'm a vegan."

"Since when?"

"Since Greg Norman stood me up to take Sofia to Richard's party and caused me to throw up the corn dogs I'd eaten when I saw them making out at the punch table." She snatched a piece of toast from the plate. "Men are jerks."

"Some men, kid. Some," I stressed, looking her in the eye. "And for the record, so are some women, so chew on that, kay-kay?"

She shook her head.

I turned back to the sausages on the burner. The long strips of meat sizzled comfortingly, sending delicious wasps of steam through the air. Amelia used to love sausage. I sighed, sliding the finished product on a plate.

Amelia stared into her phone screen.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you frowning as though somebody posted something atrocious on your blog page."

She bit her lip then raised a pair of long, black lashes to me. I sat across from her.

"Come on, talk to me. Why don't we do that anymore?"

She shrugged, a pathetic little gesture in this case. I started on my meal without really wanting it, but determined to make breakfast last as long as possible.

"We should do something later—just the two of us. Maybe go to the carnival or something."

"No thanks, I'd rather not. Besides the carnival's for babies."

My fork paused in midair. "What? That's not true and I thought you loved the carnival."

"Yeah, I used to love it. Things change." She dropped her unfinished toast on the plate.

"Alright, then Miss Things Change," I said, rising from the stool and retrieving the jam from the pantry. "How about a movie? There's a new Kevin Hart film in theaters. There's even one with Emily Blunt starring as villain."

"Thanks but no thanks I've got plans for the weekend."

"What sort of plans?" I asked, feeling a little injured that she had rebuffed my offer so coldly.

She tossed her glossy locks over her shoulder. "Nothing big really, the girls and I are gonna crash at Seidi's place and play a couple of games and maybe drink ourselves to death."

I gave her a hard look. "That's not funny. And you're too young to drink."

She raised her chin. "Says who?" I stared at her. For a long moment we were like that until at last she lowered her gaze. I smiled inwardly at my success.

"Whatever," she muttered. Her fingers tapped away at her phone.

"And BTW, I thought you hated Seidi?" I said after a while. "Or she hated you."

Her device buzzed. She smirked into the screen. "Yeah, well, we're friends now."

"And is Chrissy okay with it? I mean that girl bullied you throughout middle school, not to mention spread nasty rumours about you. I had to step in and take matters into my own hands because you were too dignified to tell anyone about."

She looked up at me as though I were an alien from space.

"Chrissy dropped me three months ago."

"What?!" now it was my turn to stare. "Why? What happened? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Okay, A: Because I didn't want to and B: You Don't need to know everything that happens in my adolescent life and C; You're not my fairy godmother."

"But I'm your sister. Doesn't that mean something?"

"Yeah, sure."

I gazed intently at the clear skinned face plastered with a mask of makeup which made her look at least eighteen. Pink glossy lips, blushed cheeks, smoky eyes and a dark mane of green highlights. She'd tattooed her fingers with rings of various sizes, and her wrists had more than their share of bracelets.

Before I went to college, she would have been comfortable in a soft flowing dress and a pair of beaded sandals, her natural hair done in long pigtails without the green vomit. Unpowdered and without concealer, her skin would have had the fresh, untouched look of the kid I'd known... once. And a simple tube of chapstick or clear gloss would have been the order of the day. And the nails, now like green talons, would have been cute and short and painted a soft pink.

I closed my eyes.

"You okay?" The eyes that met mine were still the same.

"Yeah, thanks." She nodded, then got up, snatching her bag from the floor. I rose too. "Let me drive you, kiddo."

"Nah, I'm good."

"I insist." A horn sounded in the drive.

She glanced out the window. "That's Carter, see ya."

"Who the hell is Carter?" I said, tearing the curtain aside and spying the bold red convertible in the driveway with a tall Shia LaBeouf-looking dude sitting against the hood.

"A friend." And she was out the door.

He grabbed my sister about the waist, planting kisses on her neck. I frowned, wondering how long ago the crap went down with Greg so and so.

The guy whispered something in her ear, making her blush and giggle, a pleasantly familiar sound. He kissed her cheek, and she smiled at him with sweet eyes. I had known that smile once, but only a shadow of it remained for me to see.

They drove away, and I stood there with only the smell of her perfume for company.