Bringing Back Hallie

Bringing Back Hallie: Chapter Four

He chuckles, looking at the younger of the two daughters with nothing but love and fondness in his eyes. That's how he always looks at her, how they both look at her. She's the one who doesn't make mistakes, the one who is perfect. I can only dream of them ever looking at me the way they look at her. He says happily to her, "Oh we'll see about that hon." 

Feeling a bit forgotten about and overlooked at their exchange, I cut into their happiness and ask, "Well what am I supposed to do to help?" I can't help it that my voice seems to be a bit miffed and irritated. 

Everyone's eyes snapping back to me, that light moment from a second ago already forgotten about, my mom says, "Well the publicist had an idea. There is a banquet coming up in a few weeks, and I was going to go with your father and Ethan. But now we're thinking that maybe you should go. Show up in a nice classy dress, be super polite and charming...give some interviews. That's all." 

"Seriously?" I ask, already dreading the idea. I hate getting dressed up, I really really do. I always look super awkward in dresses and I can never get my hair to look as perfect as everyone else's. The last one of these that we went to, I'm pretty sure I was the only girl in the room whose hair had frizzed. Everyone else's seems to be made of perfection or something. 

My dad jokes, "Don't sound too happy." When I shoot him a still untrusting look in response, he continues on sincerely, "Look, these things are boring, but they're not terrible. The food is always really good and I hear that steak is on the menu this year." 

"Well...that does make it sound a bit better," I say honestly, causing both of the men in the room to chuckle. My mom and Darla, though, I can still feel them glaring at me with nothing but hatred in their eyes.  

Speaking up for the first time since this whole family meeting, Ethan agrees, "It'll be fun. No big deal." 

I shoot him a quick smile, appreciative for the support when it is lacking so badly from my other family members, and then turn back to my mom and say, "Okay then...I'll go." 

"Great," she says, standing up from the couch and dusting the invisible lent from her pencil skirt. "We'll go shopping for your dress Tuesday, okay?" 

Already dreading the thought of spending the say shopping with my mom and most likely Darla-no shopping trip can occur without her presence usually-I lean back into the couch and say in what I hope is a decent sounding voice, "Alright." 

With that she leaves the room, turning around the corner that leads towards the hallway where their bedroom and the office is. She of course turns into the office, probably off to call my dad's publicist, and the three of us still left in the room hear it when she shuts the main door.  

Feeling Darla's glare on the side of my face and knowing that my dad is just too nice to do the same, I remove myself from the couch and say, "I think I'm going to spend the day laying out," before heading out of the room. 

But before I'm completely out of the room, Darla yells out to me, "Good! You're freaking pale!" 

A little pang of hurt hits me, but I've become so used to her little back handed comments over the past year or so that I just let it roll off of me. I hear my dad softly scold her for saying such a thing to me, but I know that he's just doing it because he knows it's the right thing to do. He probably doesn't care that she just loves taking any chance she can get to hurt my feelings. 

Not even letting it reside in my head long enough to hurt, I make the quick trek up the stairs and into my bedroom. Darko jumps off my swing chair in the corner of my room at the sound of the door shutting, and it's not long before the little black pug is jumping at my leg, itching for me to pick him up. I, of course, oblige, and curl the little dog to my chest as I walk over to my chest and go through the drawer with all of my different bathing suits.