Jumping Lives

Chapter 2: My Sister the Bridezilla

My sister and I were complete opposites. At least, that's what I think, however, most people seem to believe I'm an exact replica of her. Physically we look nearly identical, the same mid-back length stick straight blonde hair, the gray-blue eyes and 5'7 figure. However, that seemed to be the only thing we had in common. Quinn was my family's favorite. She was four years older than me, turning 20 this spring. She had been prom queen, student body president, and a high ranked equestrian on the A Circuit in high school. She also had an awful attitude.

Her attitude itself was the equivalent of a some kind of killer bug. Very pretty to look at, but left a nasty sting when it was angry. She appeared to be the epitome perfection, you'd think with those looks she'd have a personality to match. But, no, instead she was a walking mean, rich girl cliche.

I had never been happier than the day Quinn moved out. Quinn started at Richardson College for Equestrians nearly two years ago, an elite university for some of the top riders in the world and my mom had never been more thrilled.

However, it was during Christmas break this year when she'd come home, that she had sat at the dinner table and announced she was getting married. She told my mom she'd was going to marry Aaron her boyfriend since fall of her first year of college. I'd laughed, shocked that she was doing something not on my mom's unspoken plan of life for the two of us, but my mom had simply turned and glared at me like it was my fault. Quinn had met him in the library, he was studying music, and they had gotten engaged in the fall of this year after only a year of dating. It really was amusing to watch my dad's face turn bright red in anger and my mom to slap her hand on the table, her silver rolex making a loud bang on the wood. Suddenly, their perfect child wasn't so perfect anymore.

I was hoping, that for once mom would stop putting Quinn up on some kind of pedestal. If I had announced I was getting married at Quinn's age I would have been kicked out of the house. Of course, their anger only lasted a few weeks and then suddenly they were in a flurry of wedding plans. The entire thing was ridiculous.

The only thing it succeeded in causing was my mother, with the loss of her precious perfect daughter, had decided that it was time for me to replace her.

And when I say replace, I mean fill the void of the perfect daughter so we can brag about your accomplishments to our snotty friends. Except, I wasn't a prom queen, or student body president material. In fact, the thought of standing up in front of my entire high school and giving a speech on irrelevant kind of topics like the prom theme made feeding myself to a crocodile more appealing.

Quinn was getting married to Aaron at the end of this month. Which meant not only did June mean taking finals for school, but also being stuck listening to everyone blabber about the wedding. Quinn was the definition of bridezilla. She had changed the wedding theme four times, whined about the guest list, screamed about her dress being wrong, and gotten into multiple fights about the venue.

So of course, it only made sense that my grandmother had joined the party. I think mom called her so she would be on my parent's side against Quinn. She took Quinn's side, telling everyone the wedding had to be perfect.

Aaron was smart, he mostly avoided the entire thing. Quinn would start yammering on about more wedding details and he'd wait patiently for her to finish and then agree with what she said. It made me laugh. I liked Aaron, he was funny, and had an indie vibe to him. He was studying musical composition in college and was planning on making soundtracks to movies when he was older. The only thing I didn't understand about him was why he was marrying Quinn. He seemed to love her a lot, I suppose you'd have to in order to put up with Quinn's insanity 24/7, it just didn't make any sense.

They seemed like complete opposites, Aaron was the type of person to go camping in the forest or take a road trip down the California coast, and Quinn was the type to fly to Paris to go in two shops and buy a pair of shoes. Not compatible in my opinion, but I suppose it could have been worse if he was like Quinn, we'd never hear the end of it.

When I finally came downstairs, grandmother was lounging in one of the plush window seats with piles of wedding dress magazines next to her. She looked up at me and glared, her painted red lips pursing in an un-amused frown. Her face didn't even wrinkle when she frowned, too much Botox I think. I flopped down on one of the couches, pushing over the stupid pastel colored bridesmaid dresses to the side. I wasn't wearing a plum purple dress or a bubblegum pink tutu dress. What even was the weird puke green one. It had straps going criss cross on the back and went to mid-thigh. Not happening.

"Whitney," Marie said, her clipped French accent greeting me as she walked over. Marie was a professional dress designer and was apparently custom making Quinn's dress by hand. It probably cost a fortune and I got to wear a puke colored stripper dress or a pastel party dress for a five year old. Its like

Quinn purposefully picked the ugliest ones so that her kind-of-friends-but-I-secretly-might-kinda-hate-you-friends and I could look like matching ugly ducklings toddling down the hallway.

Frankly, the sooner I got the ugly duckling dress on the faster I could leave.

"Which one?" I asked tuning to look at Marie as she pinned the fabric on Quinn

slim body.

"The pink one, I think it will match your complexion," Quinn said turning to look at me, her eyes glinting with a bit of malice.

"Alright, your majesty," I grumbled, fake bowing as I picked up the bubblegum fairy dressed and walked towards the bathroom. I grinned as I heard Grandmother tell someone, I was a "spoiled brat with no respect." I felt like commenting on her botox but decided I better not poke the angry dragon if I wanted any peace.

The dress was awful. It pooled awkwardly around my thighs, the sleeves a weird shoulder-pad shape and the dress crunched around my chest making me look like I had three boobs. It was awful.

"That's the one," Quinn said turning to face me and examining me.

"Your joking, right? It doesn't even fit," I snapped back at her as I attempted to toddle farther into the room in the trashy sky high heels.

"Don't question the bride, Whitney Rose," Grandmother hissed looking up at me. "Just lose weight, then it will fit," She said.

"I'm a perfectly healthy weight, thank you very much." I growled back at her.

She scowled at me, her face crumpling in a funny way.

"You might want to stop with the Botox, Grandmother, its making your scowls look less frightening," I spit as I stomped at of the room. Ignoring my grandmothers shriek of anger.