Sisters: Butterflies at Graduation [book two]

Chapter Two

Dedicated to @TimeyWimeyWriter because she's really friendly and supportive and I can't wait to meet up in the summer!

Chapter Two

It doesn't matter that Esmee's early because I'm ready anyway. I slip on my boots and coat and throw a "Bye!" over my shoulder to my parents, before hurrying up the path to the front seat of Esmee's car.

"Hey," Esmee says. Her hair's braided into a fish-tail plait. She cut her hair over the summer so it sits just below her collarbone, inches shorter than what it was. My hair's in the same style it always is: straight, loose. I can't do plaits. Michele tried to teach me once and I practised on the tassel's of her handbag but it didn't really work.

"Hey." I buckle up my seatbelt. "Your hair looks nice."

"Thanks." Esmee smiles and takes a sip of her coffee.

"No Starbucks today?" I say.

Esmee shakes her head and secures the cardboard cup into the holder by the hand-break. "No Starbucks ever, can't afford to be late in our senior year."

I exhale. "I can't believe we're seniors now."

"Neither can I."

Esmee pulls away from the curb and I stare at the rows of houses as they pass by in a blur. Back to the old routine, back to waking up early, back to carpooling with Esmee to school. In a year's time, this won't happen. We'll have gone our separate ways. Esmee will be at college and I'll be...somewhere, doing something. Hopefully.

"How long did it take you to get out of bed this morning?" I say.

"Don't humour me," Esmee says. Her arms are a deep golden brown from the Jacksons' family holiday to Mexico over the summer. Having stayed in Ohio the entire summer, my arms are sickly pale, as usual. "I set my alarm clock every five minutes from half five 'til six o'clock."

"Ouch."

Esmee stares at me, deadpanned. "What time did you get up?"

"Twenty to six, as usual," I say. "I dunno why, but I was strangely excited."

"Weirdo."

"Moody," I throw back.

"Bitch."

My mouth gapes open. "I resent that."

Esmee's lips pull up into a half-smile. "Come at me," she says. "I'm not taking any crap this year."

"Touche."

We beat the morning traffic and arrive at school with fifteen minutes to spare. I forgot how busy the parking lot of Garfield High School can be.

We're walking to our lockers when Esmee says, "Oh, by the way, if my parents ask where I was after school today, tell them we were studying in the library."

"Why?"

Esmee rolls her eyes. "Just do it, okay?"

"Fine."

We go to Esmee's locker first. "Esmee!" Bridgit chirps from across the hallway. Garfield High School's resident queen bee trotts over and envelops Esmee in a hug.

"Hey, B," Esmee says. "Love the hair."

"Thanks." Bridgit herself is nothing less than perfect. I haven't seen her all summer but, like Esmee, she's a golden brown. Her hair has highlights and her teeth have definitely been whitened. Either way, the same perky cheerleader I've grown to despise is more or less the same. I don't expect her attitude nor her ego to have changed. But for the sake of Esmee, I'll try to get along.