Bree called my name once again as I straightened the straps of my dress. Gazing into the mirror, I focused on the little things, how my curls sat on my shoulders, the way my bangles patterned my thin wrists. I focused on everything but the dress last. The dress was an off white colour, something caught between beige and a ballet pink. It was loose for the majority, only a little tighter around the waist to give it some shape. It was made out of two types of material, the main having ironed creased in it for decoration or patterning. The second was a mesh like material, semi see through and was used sparingly just on the upper chest area.
The dress overall fell to about mid-thigh and gave my skin a slightly darker a tint. the outfit was completed with black stockings, a long necklace which held a delicately decorated ball, a couple of bracelets that I managed to make go with almost everything and a hair tie that was also permanently fixed to my wrist when I wore my hair out. The only thing left was to grab my woollen jacket which finished the whole thing off. The jacket was a very light shade of brown, maybe only slightly more brown than a beige and sat like a cardigan but was warmer. With its sleeves rolled like I usually had, the sleeves came down to about mid forearm while the main body ended at my hips.
“Esme, you ready to go?” Bree knocked on my bedroom door.
“Just a second” I called back.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off my reflection; everything had to be perfect as I went to watch my little sister try on a wide range of formal dresses. My eyes followed the line of the dress, careful to ignore the fact of its slight transparency as it fell delicately over my hips. The heels added a few extra inches to my already average height, the straps climbing just above my ankles, not that they were very noticeable against the stockings. Running my fingers through my hair absent mindedly, my mind tried to find something that needed to be fixed. There were a few things here and there I would have liked to improve but as Bree called for me again I knew I had no time.
“Okay, I’m ready, let’s go” I grabbed my phone and wallet before pulling the door open.
I was greeted by the image of Bree standing next to Micky, texting, in several of my pet hates in fashion. She wore tights that had the denim pattern, the tights that were made to look like jeans complete with pointless stitching down the side of the legs and over the crotch to symbolize the stitching of jeans. The pair of brown Rivers Ugg boots I bought her for her birthday were scuffed around the toes and the outsides but they were still upon her feet. A fake Vasity jacket sat over a skin tight plain white tee with my jewellery to give a contrast or some kind of decoration.
Her dark hair was straightened a dead straight that you only got when you used that flat iron. She had it all pulled over to one shoulder, sitting shiny under the fluorescent light. She also wore a lot of make-up though I wouldn’t have been able to tell if I didn’t see her without it every afternoon after school. It was like a flawless airbrush, her skin seeming ever so perfect as her eyelashes were perfectly thick. Fake eyelashes. Looking over her I didn’t understand what was going on, I missed the old Bree. I had never noticed how much she had changed until now and once I noticed it wouldn’t stay off my mind and I missed the young Bree.
I missed the Bree who couldn’t wear pants without a pink top, a girl who used to dance for the dance of it and didn’t hold over twelve trophies for ballet alone. She was the perfect girly girl with every little girl's dream of being a fairy dance princess and being the little girl at the front of a Hi-5 concert. Now Bree was the perfect girly girl who partied all weekend and drunk to the ends of the earth without letting our parents know but still managed to hold above average grades and a brilliant dance career. She always amazed me that girl, she was the most loved girl in the school without trying and she did everything she could to pull me into that limelight but I miss the carefree Bree who I could tell everything too.
My beautiful sister who stood before me was still her – just caked in make-up and extensions with straightened hair. She’d cracked, I knew she would in the end but I hadn’t thought the end would be this soon. Bree had cracked, turning into the popular girl she was always demanded to be. She had taken the role and conformed to the dress code of what was seen for the popular girl. It was like one of those stupid reality shows about school life where the popular girls were mean and extremely barbie like but Bree wasn’t mean… she just wasn’t the Bree I once knew.
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