2. Southside Sweethearts

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When you're a little kid and you don't know any better, there's an automatic assumption that your parents are made for each other

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When you're a little kid and you don't know any better, there's an automatic assumption that your parents are made for each other.

I think, to some extent, I got that part right. My parents are both bat-shit crazy, destructively selfish, and quite frankly—pieces of shit. They aren't even together anymore. Still, they're a twisted match made in hell.

There isn't a doubt in my mind that Kevin and Veronica's kids will be right about their parents being soulmates. They're perfect for each other.

I mean, sure their actual wedding won't be real, but the love certainly is.

It turns out Kevin is still legally married to some woman that he hasn't been with in years.  I'm a bit hazy on the exact details, but everyone's just rolling with it. We're even throwing a pretend wedding to fool V's mom into giving her a fat matrimonial check.

Unsurprisingly enough, this isn't the weirdest thing that's gone on around here. There will never be a day when something normal is going on around the Gallagher house.

"Can I wear these?" Debbie pauses from rummaging through my jewelry box to hold up a dangly pair of earrings to her ears, flashing me her best puppy-dog eyes.

Assuming I was being a good big sister, I told her she could pick out all of my earrings for tonight.

That came back around to bite me in the ass quick. It's become a game of making sure none of my jewelry goes missing. I should've learned my lesson after losing a few lipsticks to Debbie's dress up games, but here we are.

"Debs," I shoot her a warning glance while I smooth out my dress. Which, coincidentally is one that I took from Fiona's closet last month. But Debbie doesn't need to know that. "You have your own."

I glance over my outfit one last time in the mirror, flashing myself a satisfied grin. Fiona's old clubbing dress fits great, and goes nicely with my thigh highs. The knit cardigan I threw on over it makes me look just classy enough to be attending a winter wedding, even if we aren't exactly sophisticated around here.

Debbie lets an over dramatized groan out, purposely falling back and dealing herself over the bed. "You never let me use any of your stuff."

"That's because it's my stuff." I playfully mock her whiny tone, reaching over and pulling her up by her wrists. The simple action causes her auburn hair to fall into her face, failing to conceal her pout.

Instinctively, I reach in to sweep the hairs from her face but instead, I pause. Debbie got all dolled up for tonight, she's excited to have any part in this whatsoever. Shelia made her a poofy dress out of bright floral print. Very twirl-able, as Debbie showed me when she first tried it on.

My eyes wander over to her nightstand, where a wide variety of her hair clips are scattered around. Fiona gets them for her as often as she can, or one of us braids her hair. It's so long it's always getting in her eyes.

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