(FEATURED)
Months after her older sister's life was ripped away from her by some friends, Kimie Sato, sixteen, angry and revenge-hungry, decides she's done watching her sister lose the most important time of her life. So she goes after every single...
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Two reasons why a person would have a problem with you: they felt threatened by you, or you made them feel better about themselves.
I couldn't choose which of those reasons applied to what happened to Kairi.
It seemed to be a little bit of both, because even though Smooches made her popular, she still had issues with her self-esteem. She was always asking me if I thought she was cool, or what that dress she was wearing said about her.
"You're fine, Kai," I would tell her. "You look great."
Then she'd give me a smile and tell me she loved me.
Staring at Smooches' 1.4 million followers, I couldn't remember the last time someone told me they loved me. It was a completely absurd thought, because I was supposed to be happy that people were actually interested in the laundry I was airing out, that Smooches' Instagram had gone from eight hundred thousand followers to one million and more in such a short time. The comments on the blog had doubled since the last time I checked, and I should've been happy about that, not thinking about what was and what wasn't.
"Kim, we need your help in the kitchen!" a delicate voice called out to me, sounding a little distressed, like its owner was in the middle of a workout.
"Yeah, get off that computer and join us or you'll ruin your eyesight," Kairi added, and I forced my eyes away from my laptop.
"What do you need help with?" I asked, but my voice wasn't as loud as it should've been. I was about repeating myself when Kairi spoke.
"The tray is stuck, and the turkey's heavier than we thought."
I sighed, then logged out of Instagram and closed the laptop, putting it aside before making my way to the kitchen to meet my sister and mom-to-be.
When my mom was still here, I loved watching her cook. She'd tell me stories as she stirred delicious mixtures and gave me tips that were supposed to be helpful to my future—specifically for when I was married. We'd sing and dance (quite terribly) around the kitchen while Kairi was out at one social event or the other. The magic of cooking seemed to die along with her, because now, even thinking about it brought pain.
I saw Eliza's smooth brown hair first when I walked into the kitchen, then I noticed how she was crouched in front of the oven with Kairi as they struggled to pull a whole turkey out. She must've sensed my presence, because she looked over her shoulder and smiled.
"A little help? Shield the turkey so it doesn't fall, and I'll try to get the tray free. This is a cooking hazard."
I looked around for an extra pair of oven mitts, then joined Eliza—who Kairi had now abandoned—after putting them on. We were panting slightly by the time we got the turkey out and placed it on the counter.
"How'd you get it in by yourself?" I asked in disbelief, staring at the size of the turkey. It wasn't that big, but it was heavy, and we weren't physically strong women.
