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4.6 Lizzie

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"Ow!" I snapped and smacked my sister's arm harder than I probably should've done it, but the second the straight iron just breathed against my neck, I could've done much worse than hit her arm.

"Don't be a baby!" Gina snapped and whacked my back. In these moments, she looked just like our abuela when she was younger, with their thick browns, sharp eyes and squared jaws. Gina was teeny, but like a small dog foaming at the mouth, she was a thing to fear and would absolutely put me in the hospital. She forced me to sit forward before she continued to curl my hair. This was only the first step of all the torture. Next, Gina wanted to do makeup and pick out my clothes.

Before I forgot, I needed to hide all the clothes Parker gave me.

There was a 100% chance Gina would pick out one of Parker's outfits and I think I'd cry and ruin the eyeliner Gina just spent twenty minutes applying to my face. Well, whatever I hadn't already cried off from her sticking me in the eye with the sharp stick. If this was her version of torture, a ploy to take my allowance money, it was working.

"You know we're gonna have to do this all over again for Halloween," Gina warned me and I whimpered, trying to focus on my nails digging into my leggings. Gina also planned to help me get ready for my costume, which I decided on being a Pink Lady from Grease. By the end of this trial, I didn't feel too pure not to wear pink.

"Now..." Gina said, admiring her work in the mirror. Her French manicure hung over my shoulders like preppy talons. "How do you feel about fake eyelashes?"

As the color drained from my face, there was a knock on the door. I nearly elbowed Gina in the ribs to make my escape, fumbling off the stool to get to the stairs. I stampeded down the stairs, flying past Danny. I threw open the door without thinking.

And on the other side, Parker perked up, her eyes popping open. Like the Parker I knew, she wore a huge hot pink fluffy coat and striped pants with platform boots. Half her hair was up in a ponytail, tied with a matching pink scrunchie.

She stared at me.

I stared at her.

It had been days since I met her eyes, since I stood this close. My chest tightened, squeezing the breath out of my lungs, the air I would've used to say something, to say hello, to ask how she was holding up, and if she couldn't stop thinking about the breakup at night when she was trying to fall asleep too.

"Sorry to like barge in," Parker said.

"You're not barging in, you're still outside," I said without thinking it through.

Parker grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean, like I'm sorry I didn't call first or message, but I didn't think you'd answer."

"So... you thought you'd just show up anyways?"

"No?" Parker opened her mouth to bicker back, but the question just continued to hang there as nothing she thought to say helped her case at all. At least one of us was thinking. I needed to put this big mouth of mine under lock and key.

Let Parker talk first, instead of making her react to me and my hurt.

"Listen," Parker said before letting out a small little huff. She took a deep breath of the cool autumn air, then she unloaded everything as quick as I could keep up. "I know you broke up with me! And I know you can't stand me, but we have to work together to save the play, so Camille can have her debut and my dad can see my costumes and Norah can wear that damn tiara and you can play music and—"

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