BEAUTIFUL

FOUR

Astoria

"Pouting will only get you wrinkles."

My mother criticizes, not even looking at me as she skims through the latest rendition of Vogue Magazine. She's always been partial to the Vogue Italia, because it was the first ever magazine in which she graced the front cover.

I inspect her bitterly, watching her elegantly flip the pages from across our new dining table. She only pauses to take a small sip of her green tea or to survey me, closely watching to make sure I stick to my diet.

This is precisely why we don't eat meals together as a family anymore.

My father can barely stand to be in our presence, especially in the mornings before he's had his coffee. Even after, he barely acknowledges our existence and merely reads over files whilst eating his breakfast. I think my father likes to pretend that he doesn't have children sometimes. I think it makes him feel better about losing his first baby.

August only seems to leave his bed after noon, even on school days when classes begin at 8am. Because of it, he skips breakfast as a whole and eats double during lunch. He used to make freshman carry his extra lunch trays to his table when he attended Maxwell Prep. Now? I doubt we'll see his dirty blond hair in the hallways of Wycliffe until after 3rd period.

My eldest brother, Alexander, sticks to his routine. The same routine he's been following since even before Anastasia was born. He's up at 6 am, works out, showers, works in his office, and has a maid bring him his breakfast to his office. The same breakfast every morning— Avocado toast, with one egg and hotsauce, and a cup of coffee with an additional teaspoon of honey. I think he's always enjoyed his solitude, so he looks rather peeved that we've messed up his routine.

The twins, Azalea and Asher, are the only two that regularly join me for breakfast each morning. It's not likely that Azzy gets even a minute of sleep, so the second I'm up, she puts down her book and we spend our mornings together— Usually in silence, but we bask in eachothers company.

Asher on the other hand, doesn't like to do anything alone. I think it's because he's never been by himself. He has literally had company since he was in the womb, and it's only exemplified when he popped out and realized that he lives in a household with 6 other siblings. I think that when the number dropped to 5 was when he started becoming so... attached. He threw a fit once, ages ago, when we let him sleep in rather than waking him up, because he had been out late the night prior— We wake him up every morning now.

Anastasia, the baby of the family, typically wakes at a later hour than the rest of us and spends her mornings with a nanny. It takes a special kind of person to handle her in the mornings, because she is intolerable. A total brat. At 7 years old, she throws a fit over everything and expects to be spoon-feed her cinnamon toast crunch each morning. My mother can't stand it, and forces my father to pay ungodly amounts of money to keep nanny's from quitting.

And my mother? I avoid meals with my mother, because she always has something to say. She always manages to find something about me to critique, and my therapist says that her comments are hindering my recovery. I think my mother is disappointed in me, and she doesn't fancy starting out her day staring at a disappointment, so she avoids me too.

Except for today.

Today holds a number of firsts— First full day at Wycliffe. First week in London.