Sisterly Love?

I sat at the edge of the curb, parched, as I watched the endless variety of cars whiz by. Kids on their bikes and skateboards rolled by too, yet I just sat there, scraping the fragments of detritus under my boots. I was dying of thirst, but I didn't feel like getting up. Maybe I'd just sit there for the rest of the afternoon, the evening too, if I was really lazy.

"Nevaya!"

There went my afternoon of doing absolutely nothing. Reluctantly rising from the warm cement, I left the rocks idle and went inside.

"Mom, you called," I said a little upset.

Ignoring my tone, my mom said: "There's a little something for Serenity upstairs. Why don't you have some fun with your sister and help her open it? It would be something you two could play together with."

Just a side note. I have two side notes. First, Serenity is my weird little sister. Second, I had taken the word 'play' out of my vocabulary a few years ago. Being in middle school, saying the word "play" wasn't going to get you anything besides the villainous snickers of how child-like you were.

I turned to my mother and gave her one of my serious stares.

"I would've had more fun sitting outside by myself."

Mt mother's cold, blue eyes glared at me icily. Even with the same eyes as hers, I couldn't look that scary, no matter how hard I tried.

With nothing said, I darted upstairs to find Serenity. Every time I walked into our room, I would either see her with Barbie dolls in her own imaginary world or dressed up in a princess costume.

The bedroom door was slightly open. Through the crack, the vibrant pink paint glowed with luminosity and I paused before pushing it open to hear Serenity's soft hums. I entered the room, shuffling closer to Serenity, who had her back turned to me.

"Whatcha got there, sis?" I asked.

Serenity didn't answer, her lush, brown curls jumping in delight as she bounced in place. It was not like Serenity to ignore someone, no matter how much a certain individual displeased her. Frowning, I knelt behind her, unable to see her face or what was in her hands.

My sister and I weren't as close as most sisters were. We have an eight year gap in between, so sometimes, I blame it on the year span as the reason why we didn't really talk to each other.

It was our personalities that differed too. Serenity was a quirky, bouncy little thing with her confidence, outgoing ways and her shrill giggles. I was more of the quiet, reserved type who really didn't feel the need of ever smiling or laughing.

Serenity would wrap her arms tightly around my waist, squealing my name as her chubby cheeks and curly pigtails jumped, expecting a shower of affection in return. But I would simply squirm in place, my face scrunching in agony, as I would peel her arms off my body and place them at a distance of at least three feet away from me. And then it was that look she'd give me. The tears watering in her puppy-dog eyes, her trembling lip, and her pigtails that seemed to droop. After that, she'd bawl. She'd bawl and howl, running in the opposite direction of me, crying to Mom about how I hated her.

I can't say I felt bad, but I just wasn't that type of person. I didn't like hugs or kisses from the start. I was me.

There were days that we barely even talked. Some days in which we almost ignored each other, except for a goodnight in the evening before going to bed because we slept in the same room. Just because she was someone who had the same blood type as me didn't mean that she was a person I had to get closest to. She was just there.

So to me, her icing me out was a sign of something wrong happening. Normally she'd be overjoyed, above overjoyed to have me even cast a simple smile at her.