• 53: The Backhanded Compliment Gene •

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Melody

When I got home that night, there was a van in my driveway with Delilah's Decor written across in in light purple cursive. I groaned already knowing what chaos I would the moment my feet stepped across the threshold. The autumn themed wreath on the door left a grimace on my face that only deepened when I entered the house.

"Ugh, that's not straight... straighter... Jesus! Does anyone know what straight looks like around here?" Margot snapped. I watched as two ladies and a man hustled around the room trying to please the she-devil barking orders.

There was already a large cornucopia taking centre stage on the table on top of a silver serving dish. Around it was a large wreath with autumn coloured leaves, which were also scattered across the white tablecloth. The chairs too, now had white sheets on top of them, looking like they were for a wedding rather than a gluttonous holiday.

I tried to get to the stairs without her noticing me, but Margot turned around the second I closed the front door.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asked.

"My Macy's catalogue shoot," I said. It was mostly true. I got Gavin to drop me off at Carson's instead of here. Still, I felt a pang of sadness knowing that she didn't remember something so important to me.

"Right... well I hope you found something decent to wear for Thanksgiving dinner. My family comes Thursday morning and I'd like not to be embarrassed by you."

"Of course," I said quietly. "I'll show you my options tomorrow after school."

"Yes... and remember how to behave yourself. Demure and proper."

"Of course," I repeated. She turned her back to me barking orders once again at the decorators who I bet would never step foot in here again. I retreated to my room feeling stressed about the rest of the week. I flopped down onto my bed glaring into my closet. I didn't want to dress up for Margot and her stupid family.

There was Salty Stephen, who was her brother and was as pretentious as ever. He made sure that everyone pronounced his name, "Stef-ahn", as if the second letter 'e' was too common for his taste. He would complain about everything from silverware to the decorations, to the out of place hair on someone's head. At the same time, he'd humble-brag about his son who could never make the holidays because he was so busy being a "bloody criminal lawyer". He always brought his wife, Rita, who never seemed to say much.

Then there was Margot's sister Adalyn who gave the most back-handed compliments, like she was in a position to make judgements. She showed up every year with either a new boyfriend or a man she was planning on divorcing in a couple of months.

Her daughter, Alyssa, was no walk in the park either. She was more of a trudge through the mud. Slow, and beyond uncomfortable. Her and Mia were the same age and it was twice the gossip, the dirty looks, and the conversations that left me on my own.

Still, on Thursday afternoon I was in a dark brown, suede dress and little heels to match; all Margot-approved. My shoes clicked against the stairs as I stepped down them to see Margot's family gathered at door in all their blonde-haired glory. The only non-blondes were Rita, and Adalyn's date. I pasted on a smile and completed descending from the staircase into a series of side-hugs and air kisses.

"Wow, you're so tall and you can still wear heels," Adalyn commented as I hugged her. "They're not designer, are they?"

"Um, I believe they are," I replied.

"Really," Adalyn breathed with amazement. Her way of saying my heels did not look as designer as she'd have chosen.

"Michael Kors, I think," I said quietly.

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