Superlative

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I have many memories from when I was a child, the problem is, they aren't really my memories. I remember going to all my mother's fashion shows, my sisters' beauty pageants, my brother's sport shoots and my dad's games, but I don't remember anything that was specifically to do with me. My siblings and I are all pretty close together in ages; I'm 16, my sisters are 19 and my brother is 24. Especially my sisters and I, we literally did everything together as children, we were even forced into identical outfits, all with designer labels of course. But the point is, even then I was the awkward tag along. I mean, even as children, you could clearly see which offspring had inherited the correct chromosomes. Every family picture of us as children is pitiful. I also hated school as a child, mainly for the fact that Maddie and Clara were just a few years above me. Although the girls denied it, everyone adored their beauty, especially in high school. They were in that group of senior girls who seemed to walk everywhere in slow motion, parting the crowds of corridors like Moses did the red sea. I was just a tiny ripple in that wave that they parted. I'm not even sure if everyone knew we were sisters, but the ones that did, certainly did not see light of the situation. Instead of thinking it was cool to have two hot older sisters that every single boy my age bowed down to, everyone thought that I was some kind of genetic mishap or perhaps an adopted child. Just believe me, I have heard it all. Let's just put it this way, while they were at school, things were not too good.

Over the years, I've been to several schools, all across the country, both mainstream and private. My mom always liked the idea of us being home schooled. It would ensure that we didn't catch nits or a sickness bug or a rash that would hold off the modelling shoot that was bound to happen. It's almost laughable that even as little kids, we were brought up in the world of cosmetics. I remember being very small, maybe four or five, when every night my mom would sit my siblings and I on the bathroom counter and cleanse, tone, moisturize, scrub, hydrate, soften, smooth, texturize and undertone our skin. She would pick up a product and go down the line one by one, starting with my brother and finishing with me, applying that thing like there was no tomorrow. This process was repeated so many times that I think I just kind of zoned out for the entire 90 minutes that it took. My sisters loved it, and would chirp and giggle throughout. My brother and I on the other hand, were not so thrilled. We put up with it though, for about ten years, I'm pretty sure my mom still does it to my sisters today, because we love her and this was the way to make her happy. When I reached about fourteen though, I made a very persuasive speech to her about how it was time I learned how to carry out the regime on my own because it was important for me to learn the skills for the future and to teach my own children one day, and so on... It must have been good though because much to my surprise, she agreed! So after, three months of her watching, correcting and moderating my technique, I was finally trusted with the gazillion dollar tubs of cream that could apparently 'revitalize and uplift your skin, removing the hyper pigmentation through hydrating and toning your skin, showing results in just three minutes', can't you tell how many times I have read the packaging on those things. I do keep up with the routine, purely for the fact that my mom can spot an untreated pore from a mile away and not keeping to the beauty regime was a major crime where I come from.

So, sadly, about two months ago, my dad retired from football, deciding that being 41 years old and a professional football player and father of four just wasn't a good mix. He is however, moving into presenting sports on TV. Literally the minute his signature of resignation was signed, he was being offered new contracts in TV, radio, business, commercials, you name it, he had it. But when he was offered the chance to have a spot on a major sports TV show, every other option he had, became void. He signed that piece of paper and hasn't stopped jabbering on about how he can't wait to get his ass on that sofa in the studio. Yes dad, we get it, your ass is craving the softness of a sports couch filled with the sweat from other sweaty asses of other football players that have sat on that couch before you. Wow, what a career improvement. Also, my mom has a new fashion store opening, can you guess what it's called; 'Love Hearts'. Get it? Louisa Heart? OK, so I think you got it. My sisters have been offered new deals with new agents and my brother has a sporting opportunity coming up too and guess where they all are? LA. So am I thrilled about moving to LA, not really but I do have some plans in mind.

                                                                          * * *

"Aves, come on it's 5am, mom will kill you if she finds out you haven't already got up.', says a voice, 'Ava, come on get up.', it whispers, 'Avery'.

At the sound of that birdy name, my eyes shoot open. Nathan. I give him no satisfaction through the means of a reaction. I would enjoy injuring him, just a little bit but he is kind of helping me out here.

"Thanks Nate", I whisper, quietly sneaking out of bed. My feet somehow burn against the icy wood panels of the bare floor. My room looks so sad, all empty and hollow. I love this room. For years it has been my place, where I am number one. Well technically I'm the only one so along with number one I'm also number two, three, four, five and well you get my drift. So, I lightly pad over to the bathroom where the only things left are the cosmetics. Wow, what a shocker. It's 5am and we have to leave at 6am. Sorry mom, these creams are gonna have to survive without me for one morning. I use the first item on the list, and yes in case you are wondering- there is a list, and then skip to the last, hoping that the inbetweens will just happen by osmosis. Is it sad that at the age of sixteen my mom still picks out my clothes for me? Possibly, but surely if your mom was a famous chef you would let her cook your meals for you right? Well, I had obviously hadn't been considered when this outfit was chosen, or the activities of my day, because bearing in mind we were going to the airport and on a plane, I was wearing a tight mini skirt and heels. I put them on regardless, I would be murdered if I didn't. I couldn't be assed to put on make up and my hair was acceptable so I just brushed it and left it. 

Trying to be discrete whilst walking down a wooden staircase in big purple, platform shoes is not exactly easy. In the end, I just stuffed being discrete and concentrated on survival, these things were dangerous. I mean, I know my mom had never really been good at maths but even she must've understood that Ava + heels = 90:1 chance of death. As to be expected, sat at my breakfast table was four super models and an all star athlete. Not too sure what I expected to see, I mean, I had seen this many times before just maybe something a bit more humanly possible. My mom and sisters were there with immaculate make up and perfect ringlet curls. And what a surprise, we had matching shoes. Hooray? They sat eating their fruit salads, that were beautifully prepared for by our house keeper, Vivianne. I sat down to a nice piece of toast, smothered in Nutella. Forget fruity goodness when you can have Nutella right?

"So, honey, how was your beauty sleep?", asked mom, with wide eyes.

"Fine thank you.", I replied timidly.

"Really because you have dark circles beneath those eyes of yours, what time did you get to sleep?", she pursued.

"About 1am?" I whispered beneath my breath, trying to crunch the toast as loudly as I could over the top of my own voice, keeping each bite in time which my syllables.

"1am! What were you doing at 1am in the morning?", she screeched, throwing her perfectly rounded melon ball back into the bowl.

"I was reading?", I replied, knowing that my own retaliation could not be taken seriously whilst I had Nutella smeared beneath my nostrils. Noticing this, Clara handed me a napkin, with that sweet honey smile that everyone loved.

"Reading? Enough with the god damn reading Avery! I understand that you like to read but everytime I turn around you are sat there being antisocial, stuffing your nose into a book! It's good for you to read, read as much as you wish but I will not let it deprive you of sleep of any other superior aspects of your daily routine. That is bad parenting and I will not allow it. I know that reading is 'good for your mind' but it gets to the point where it is rude. How could you be so immature? You know we are flying today and you know there will be cameras and you are just going to embarrass me like this; looking a state, no make up, hair that may as well be a woven basket with the amount of knots in that! How dare you!", she exclaimed, standing up from her chair in anger.

"Lou, calm down.", beckoned dad authoritatively, bringing her out of her rant.

As per usual, I said nothing, there was noting to say. My explanations would never be valid because they weren't hers. I love my mom, more that anything but through no fault of her own, she just doesn't understand me and she never will. I'm not her beautiful daughter, as soon as I was born, I spoiled the picturesque family and I'm still paying for it today. So, I am not the same as my family, so what? I just wish I could do something to change it, anything. I'm not sure if I can though.