Moving in with the Metzingers

Chapter 1

My sisters were a wreck.

They don't deserve to go through this, I kept thinking to myself as I cradled Ara on my lap, even though she was seven and hadn't sat on my lap for two years. Today was different. So were the next couple of years, or however long it takes us to get over this. Oh, who am I kidding? We can't get over this. We can't just move on. Ara can sit on my lap until she's out of college for all I care.

I hug Ara closer and turn to my other sister, Lanie. She decided to sit with us in the front instead of with her latest boyfriend, Tanner something. I can never keep track of them. Lanie has always been the more rebellious of the three of us; I'm surprised she sat with her family. Of course, that's probably because I'm a sixteen-year-old sophmore, Ara is an innocent little second grader, and she is at the perfect age to be a "rebel"-- fourteen and ready to finish middle school.

Lanie is sitting up straight with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, biting her lip and allowing perfect tears to fall down her face. The white iPhone that always seems to be glued to her hand was left at home, and her usual short dress and combat boots has turned into a black blouse and skirt with fishnets and black flats with bows on the toes. If this had been any other circumstances, I would be bewildered and probably take her temperature.

Earlier, before the ceremony, Ara's usually chattery self was as silent as a mouse, and she let me dress her in an adorable puffy black dress I fished out of the back of her incredibly messy closet. She barely squirmed when I ran a brush through her tangled hair, and didn't insist on wearing eleven hairbands at a time. Instead, she asked if she could wear mom's favorite orange hairpin. I had to contemplate this for a very long time, but after a while I realized that Ara needed a piece of mom with her, and she had always admired that beautiful hairpin. I pulled back the sides of her hair, twisted them, and pinned it all in the center of the back of her head. I curled the pieces that fell down from the clip, so that it would stand out. I don't think we're really supposed to wear any colors but black to these things; mom scolded Lanie for wearing pink fishnets when we said goodbye to Uncle Tom last year, but the orange hairclip is different. It's the exception.

Me? I was wearing my favorite shoes: the 2-inch black heels that mom gave me for my birthday last year. I only wear them for special occasions; I'm not really the type of girl who wears heels often. I had on a slim black minidress with a low, angular neckline and lace sleeves attached to the spaghetti straps. It went down to about 4 inches above my knee, and it poofed out a little in a good way at the bottom. To match I was wearing lacy black leggings that went just below my knee. I had curled my hair and pinned up the top, with the rest of the curls cascading down my back at different lengths.

When we were getting ready, Lanie walked past the bathroom where I was adjusting my hair, and she stopped to comment on my outfit.

"Wow, Mal. You actually look... pretty," she sounded surprised. "You should dress like that more often." Before I could decide if that was a compliment or an insult, she walked away.

Unbelievable, I thought. Even when she's mourning she can still be all mysterious and snarky.

"I'm hungry, Mallie," Ara whispered, barely audible. I nodded, and she disappeared to the snack table in the back.

This time, when I looked at Lanie she was in full crying mode. She was bent over her lap and her miniskirt was being drenched by tears. I kind of expected her to eat a random piece of mushroom and suddenly shrink to the size of my finger and swim around in her tears. Alice in Wonderland reference? Yes.

I put my hand on her shoulder and gave her an empathetic look, not able to muster a smile. She looked up slightly and acknowledged me before returning to her silent sobbing. I fixed a strand of her hair and took my hand back. Lanie needs time to cry.