Long Way Down [Unedited]

Party

Dallas

"Dallas!" I hear mom's voice as I tie the laces of my sneakers. "Come down! Abby's here."

"Coming!" I say and bounce down the stairs. I see Abby standing in the kitchen with mom, laughing and talking. My lips curl up in a smile as I make my way towards them.

"Hey Abby!" I nudge her with my elbow, wiggling my eyebrows. She's wearing a beautiful maroon dress that ends up mid thigh, her blonde hair are curled beautifully that falls on her shoulder perfectly. With minimum makeup on her face, Abby looks like a freaking goddess. In contrast to her, I'm wearing a full sleeves T-shirt, a pair of blue ripped jeans and m'sneakers coz why not? Applying just a little mascara and lip gloss I think I'm at least close to what Abby looks like. Okay maybe not. Its like I've fallen 50 feet away from the same tree.

"What the hell are you wearing?!" Mom and Abby gasp at the same time. Oh okay... I thought I'd get past the fashion police. But guess what–

"What?!" I scoff. "Its nice and comfortable for a party."

"Ya it sure is. For the party of hipsters!" Abby scoffs playfully.

"What's with all the voices in this house!" I hear Dad's voice as all of us turn around to face him. "Oh hey ice princesses." He waves at me and Abby. Ice princesses ya... That's the nickname my dad gave us when we were kids. Oh but wait there's more. The kids at the school used to call us the caste of legally blonde. Blondes, whiter than the snow– name it and we've been called it all. Guess two blondes can't survive without being realized about them being blonde.

"Hey Mr. Marshal." Abby greets dad with a smile. Apparently Abby is a big deal around here aka my house. From the ages of 7 till now, 'Dress like Abby', 'Behave like Abby', 'Act cheerful like Abby' are the only phrases I've heard from my mom. But nobody tells Abby to bring grades like me... Because no one notices that one flaw about her, as on the outside she's perfect. It's not like I'm envious of her. But sometimes parents fail to understand the difference between healthy competition and comparison. Don't compare your kid at the extent, that it starts driving him crazy and he starts hating you one day.

"C'mon now Dalla! Buckle up or we'll be late!" Abby nudges my shoulder, breaking the chain of thoughts. "Dress in that black dress I gifted you for your birthday last month. You'll look stunning in that."

"Ya Abby's right honey! Black brings out the green in your eyes." Mom chimes. "Abby you have the best fashion sense ever. I used to dress like that––" Here we go with 'Abby being the best human ever walked on the planet' talk again. I sigh deeply and turn around to walk upstairs, accidentally stumbling across Liam. How did I know? The smell of his god awful strong cologne.

"Hey watch where you going twit!" He mumbles sharply, before pushing me out of the way.

"Liam!" Dad warns him across the room, shooting death glares. If it isn't for dad, I think no one in this place would acknowledge my very existence.

"Calm down honey! She should've watched her step." Mom mumbles, giving me a hard look. What!? What did I even do? "Where you off to baby?" She asks Liam, softly.

"The party!" Liam mumbles boringly.

"Take these girls with you." Dad orders him. Before he can even protest, Dad interrupts him, "It's not an option. They need a ride and I can't let them walk alone." Dad tells him, and gives me an assuring smile. Oh he's the best!