a sister who's actions are untamed,
and a brother who's feelings are untamed.
With complete different personalities, yet an awesome bond, the siblings join a summer camp. She plans to fix her problems, he plans to make friends.
But while she's able...
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The girl in front of me is running through the rain, her hair waving behind her like a beautiful, but wet curtain. Her feet cause splashes of water and mud up her legs. Pale legs, with high socks.
I can't see her face. Neither do I know what her name is. I'm not even sure what this is supposed to represent. Yet after all, it does feel familiar.
Otherwise, I would've never painted this.
Just got last details—highlights and shadows—to add, then I'll be done with another canvas that'll likely end up somewhere in the basement. Lelia will like this one, but she won't want it in her room. "Too depressing", I can already hear her say.
With a sigh, I walk out of my room and straight into hers. "Would you put the volume down? I'm trying to paint. Thank you."
Bothered by my presence, she looks up. There's rollers in her hair again. And she dyed the strands. Secretly, as if Mom isn't gonna see it when she shows up downstairs. "No," and turns back to rolling the things in her hair.
"Please?" I add. It's annoying to paint while she's listening to what I'll gladly call the most horrible music taste in the world— one second, it's rappers, and then it's as if her room is a club. So loud and disturbing. "I need to focus."
Why can't she listen to The Smiths or something? TV Girl? ABBA is also much better than this! Mac DeMarco, gosh.
"So do I," she says, finishing a black strand off with a clip. Those plain brown eyes aren't even paying attention to me. "Also, you just got paint on my door."
"I'll clean it up," I promise. "If you—"
With a final sigh, she turns the volume down. "Happy now?"
A smile forms on my face. "Very. Thanks!" And I got back to work.
Usually, I paint the happier things. Flowers, sunsets, and smiles, but sometimes I have the urge to paint something sadder. Not everything can be flowers, sunsets, and smiles.
"LELIA CATHERINE BLAKE!"
And there we go.
What did my sister do this time? Sneak out at night? Got back home drunk? Wrote words onto the bathroom mirror with her lipstick again? Perhaps she stole all the snacks. Or maybe we're repeating the ritual in which a random boy ends up in our bathtub, completely wasted.
I don't freaking know. I've tried everything to stop her because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happens to her, but she's stubborn. And loves partying, which I don't, so it's getting annoying to protect her if it means being around those junkies.
She's not a junkie though.
...I hope.
Then a lot of screams follow and for once, I decide not to step in. Since Mom died after she gave birth to Lelia, Dad married another woman, and she's amazing. Really feels like a mother. I'm only a year older than Lelia, so I don't remember my biological mother. Amina basically raised us.
