Cheating Gods of Death (Sequel to L: Find A GirLfriend)

Cake

I haven't felt a change in myself for a few years, and here she is. She's becoming less of a little sister, and just a sister. Seeing the extra box of tampons called for a similar reaction. I just can't believe that she's not the stupid little girl. She's going to be socially adept, like mom. Secretive and quiet, but with a *pleasant* presence, like dad.

I don't like to think of it, but I think I called for their negative traits. The second one is usually the best anyway- I'm the prototype.

She got a t-shirt for one of the shows she watches, some glittery nail polish, and candy. Happy 13th birthday.

"Erica, would you like to have friends over this weekend to do something? Really, I ordered more stuff for you, but it's shipping late. What ever happened to being friends with Isabella Bigham, anyway?"

"She's just... busy."

"Well, you can have friends over if you want- just tell me."

"I'll ask around."

Clueless as ever, Dad sipped his mid-evening coffee calmly, then cut himself another slice of cake.

Ryuuk was watching us the entire time, and somehow the realization had lost it's potency. He was always watching.

That night, I found myself standing outside of Erica's door in some sweats and an old "THE LAKE" shirt from a summer camp I used to go to- it was a wonder the shirt fit. She just lightly shouted "Come in!" and I heard her sit up on the bed.

When I opened the door, she was in the middle of her pink bedspread, with her kitty cat linen pajama pants on paired with an old autism awareness shirt. Her Nintendo 3DSXL displayed an older Pokemon game, from before they were made in 3D, although I wasn't sure exactly which one it was.

"Hey, Erica."

"Hey."

I sat, uninvited, on the edge of the bed beside her, and she gave me a look.

I haven't been the best brother, or best damn kid, lately. I kinda felt lonely. Ryuuk's company extends as far as you'll harbor the delusion, but nothing beats torturing your sister.

Somehow, she hugged me back.

The rule of an uncomfortably creepy hug doesn't apply to siblings, or I'd be one sick fuck for how long I held her.

Shamelessly, it was for my own selfish benefit. She smelled good, like PINK lotion and keratin oil conditioner, and she was soft, like girls are. Like what you feel when you hug that one girl you've known forever, crushed on, and subsequently got over more times than you can count on your hand. But, she was my sister, my baby sister; everything was that much brighter.

I thought of Audrey.

Erica shifted, brushing her hair against my chest and bathing "THE LAKE" in black.

"Have you packed for the trip yet? We leave this weekend..."

Shit.

She looked up at me, waiting.

"No... Have you?"

"Yes, but Mom forgot, too. I reminded her."

"Good job, I guess."

She really wasn't as excited as a twelve year old girl who was about to go out of the country for the first time should have been. Our whole household was approaching this venture as a rehearsal for "Past the Point of No Return" from Phantom of the Opera. Thank you, Mother, for the evenings spent watching these when all three of us were having the nightmares and unwelcome anxieties from Dad's stroke instead of sleeping. The course of action was always late nights with Andrew Lloyd Webber.