Brave (A Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction)

Chapter 4: Looks like we're gonna be carnival buddies

Luziane's POV

Gosh, Soleil you do this every time!

She’s always late for dinner hanging out with her little friends that behave as if they were twenty. The thing is mom always automatically assumes I know where she is and she’ll scold me until she arrives!

“Luz, how could you let her leave without her phone? That’s so irresponsible. You’re supposed to look after her” I’ve had enough of her ranting lately. She’s the one who brought us here to waist our entire summer, it’s not my fault my sister decided to make something out of it and carelessly hang out with her new friends.

“Who’s the mother here? If you never taught her to be responsible who else will.” I murmured and took the risk to look at her hoping she hadn’t heard me.

I wasn’t so lucky. Mom looked as if she wanted to beat me up with a frying pan, she hated when I talked back at her.

“But you’re her older sister, she copies everything you do! If you were responsible we wouldn’t have these problems so often, you’re her prime example!” hurray for more ranting. My mother’s temper is higher than the empire state.

Just as our altercation was aggravating my grandma comes out in a tight, pink, leopard printed dress, a silver handbag and 5 inch high heels. The dress was fabulous, it was casual yet elegant… it was mine.

“Elizabeth, can I borrow your red Maybelline lipstick? Too bad, I’m taking it anyways”

“And where on heaven’s sake do you think you’re going mum?” my mother inquired, looking appalled at the way her own mother was wearing.

“Oh just out with some of my ‘Ol bingo buddies down at the retirement home” she obviously lied

“Dressed like that?”

“In my clothes?” I interruptedly asked. She looked surprisingly good in them. My grandma wasn’t the youngest looking elderly woman I’ve ever seen, but she had a great body. However, seeing her in my clothes was a bit disturbing, I wish she would wear something more age appropriate every time she went out, but that would require her to buy herself a new wardrobe. But really, my dress?

“Mom you can’t just take Luz’s clothes for your own. She’s sixteen and you’re like six hundred years old. You have to face the fact that you can’t pull off outfits like that anymore, just look in a mirror and see what it has to say about it” she joked and I tried my best not to laugh since I still annoyed at her.

“Mirrors don’t talk, and lucky for you they don’t laugh. You’re just jealous that I’m still fit at 75 and you’re not. My grandma defended. Her comeback was quite impressive; I had to high five her on that one earning one of my mom’s evil glares in return.

Just as our little altercation was heating up, Soleil decides to barge in through the door looking oddly unusual. She was wearing brand new clothes that I don’t remember her buying. She wore a blue sleevless chiffon accompanied by a black necklace, white denim shorts and a pair of black boots. Everything looked awfully expensive; we could never afford clothes like that. Oh and don’t get me started on the heavy makeup excessively plastered on her face. Who is this snobby, superficial looking creature in front of me and what has she done with my sister?

“Soleil Marie Torres Walker, where the bloody hell have you been?” My mom brawled at her as soon as the door closed behind her in her distinctive british accent. I loved when she used it, living  American she assimilated the accent, but it was always conspicuous when she was angry.