Half-glass full and cynical Calista Dames can sketch out her life in a series of plans, predictions and preparations. She's the girl who knows what she's doing and where she's going, the girl with all the questions answered, the girl with a foundati...
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CHAPTER ONE
A CHANGE WOULD DO YOU GOOD
It was late in my junior year summer vacation when I've decided there were too many women in the Dames' household.
"Fucking hell," I said upon the maelstrom of destruction hailed upon our overpriced hotel room, glancing up from my phone after I quickly typed up a text to my two best friends, Astrid Gilbert, and Ellis Chan.
There was a bloodcurdling scream emitting from my sister's room, the type of scream that made everything shrivelled up into your butthole.
I practically jumped out of my seat, freaked out and preparing to propel myself in ninja mode when I looked around, realizing my younger sister- Cathryn- was fighting with my mother as they took their argument from her room to living hall, interrupting whatever peace and quiet I once had.
"That dress is far too inappropriate for a fifteen-year-old," my mother, Lena Dames, barked. Spittle struck my sister in the face, She had her arms folded and was doing her squinty Mom thing- the sign when you know you're dead. "You're fifteen and you look twenty-five!"
"But Mom," whinged Cathryn, high-pitched and shrill, her voice like nails on chalkboards to my ears, which left me wondering how the hell did she still have friends after that voice: "All of my friends dress like this!"
I bristled, rolling my eyes at her. Yes, yes, all your friends who so happened to take Keeping Up With Kardashians as their reliable gospel.
"Oh my God," I called out over their voices, rubbing my temple, which was about to burst; "Can you please go kill each other in another room?"
"Shut up, Calista Zoe Dames! I so do not need attitude right now."
"Yeah, sure. What you need is a tub of Xanax."
She glared at me and I scowled back. This was a term of endearment.
Here's the thing about my bat-shit crazy family:
A. There's six of us and all of us are girls except for well, Dad. Because if he was a girl, there would be a lot of explaining to do on how we were created.
B. We're all blondes. Even my three-year-old, who looked about the size of a fat blonde cupid Michaelangelo painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel centuries ago. Rumour has it that my little sister Connie popped out of my mother wailing and sobbing and she never stopped since.
C. Every one of them knew how to piss the other off like nobody else.
But back to the current events:
Mom was yelling at Cathryn because she thought she looked to inappropriate for her age- and she did- but Cathryn said boo hoo freedom of speech,I get to wear whatever I want.
