She's the Worst

by Lauren Spieller

  Want to take a walk? I ask.

  I watch my phone. I want him to say yes, but more than that, I want him to want to say yes.

  Too tired.

  I let my phone slip out of my fingers onto my bed. “Damn it,” I whisper into the dark. I knew I was pushing too hard. Asking too much. I should have just kept my sister drama to myself.

  Better yet, I never should have offered to spend the day with Jenn in the first place.

  CHAPTER 4

  JENN

  I don’t know what surprises me more. That April remembered the pact we made as kids, or that she actually wanted to do it.

  I unwrap my nightly moisturizing mask and lay it onto my face, careful to line up the holes for my eyes and nose. I’ve been using a mask every night for the last year as a way to help quiet my mind before I go to bed. Otherwise, I just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, making to-do lists and listening to my parents argue through the walls.

  When the mask is on, I sit cross-legged on my bed and do the second thing that always help me unwind: reading. I’m a few pages into the first task of the Triwizard Tournament when my cell phone buzzes beside me. I don’t bother checking the caller ID because it’s the same person who’s called me every night before bed since we first started dating—Tom. Instead, I put the call on speakerphone and say, “I know what you’re going to say, but the answer is no.”

  “Are you sure?” Tom asks, his voice amplified. “It might be fun to hang out with your sister for a few hours.”

  I knew it was a mistake to text him about her offer. He’s too softhearted. “I can’t,” I say, setting Harry Potter aside. “I still haven’t finish packing.”

  “But it’s the perfect opportunity to tell her—”

  “I know, but spending the whole day with her like that . . . It’s not a good idea. We’ll argue, and it’ll just get out of hand like it always does.”

  “Why did you made the pact in the first place if you didn’t want to do it?”

  “At the time, I did want to do it. I was fourteen. I didn’t know how much things would change between then and now.”

  Tom is quiet for a moment, long enough that I check my phone to make sure we weren’t disconnected. Then he says, “I just think it’d be good for you to spend some time with her. You’re always angry at her—”

  “Because she’s constantly doing things that are completely selfish and unreasonable.”

  “Maybe this is a good chance to put all that behind you. She said she wants to hang out with you, right?”

  I stand back up again and start to pace. “Look, I know this pact thing seems nice, but you don’t know April the way I do. At the beginning of summer, I asked if she could cover a shift at the store, and in exchange I did the dishes for a whole week. But then—”

  “She didn’t show up because she had soccer practice,” Tom says. “I know. But that’s just one time.”

  “Oh, yeah? Just last week she told me she wanted to borrow my yellow dress, and when I told her I already had plans to wear it, she immediately asked me if she could borrow my favorite jean jacket instead.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t think she even wanted the dress—I think it was about the jacket all along!”

  Tom sighs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you sound completely paranoid.”

  I throw my hands up. I know I sound paranoid. But Tom doesn’t understand what it’s like living with my sister. Nothing is ever straightforward with her. She’s always got a motive, and usually it involves getting out of doing something, especially when that something involves our parents. When she was younger, I wanted to protect her, but by the time she turned thirteen—the same age I was when I began playing interference between my parents—I wasn’t just tired of the constant yelling. I was tired of pretending everything was okay. So I stopped.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t matter. April saw what was going on between them, but instead of stepping up to the plate like I had, she turned her back on the problem entirely. She’d leave the house, or simply turn on the TV so loud that she didn’t have to listen to them. I tried to be patient with her, to give her time to adjust. But eventually, I ran out of patience and was forced to accept that she wasn’t a baby anymore, too young to handle our parents arguing. She just didn’t want to be bothered.

  Maybe that’s why this whole pact thing rubs me the wrong way. April remembers agreeing to it, but she doesn’t remember why we were hanging out that day in the first place. She doesn’t remember me finding her curled up in her closet, hiding from the noise. All she cares about is what we did that day—the outing I planned to get her out of the house. Now she’s sixteen, and she’s still letting me take care of Mom and Dad on my own while she sneaks around with some jock and ignores her responsibilities at home.

  “Jenn, I hear you,” Tom says. “And maybe you’re right. But even if you are, it still might not be the worst thing in the world to get April on your side before you talk to your parents.”

  I lean over and pick up the pillow April dropped on her way out of my room. “April is never on anyone’s side but her own.”

  The floorboards outside my room creak. “Jenn?” my dad calls softly through the door. “Are you still awake?”

  “Tom, I’ve got to go,” I say, taking the call off speakerphone. “My dad needs something.”

  “Okay. But think about going with her tomorrow, okay?”

  His voice sounds so earnest it about breaks my heart. Tom’s always cared about my relationship with my family, but I’ve never heard him be this serious about it before. “If it’s this important to you, then yes, I promise I will think about it. But that’s it.”

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “You’re welcome. Dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Yep. See you at six.”

  “Got it,” I say. “Love you.”

  I wait for Tom to answer, but the line goes dead. I’d normally call back—he probably just didn’t hear me—but my dad knocks again. “I know you’re awake in there. I can hear you talking.”

  I throw my phone on the bed, then cross my room and open the door.

  “Yikes,” my dad says the moment he sees me.

  “What?”

  He points to my face and grimaces.

  Oh right, the mask. I peel it off. “Happy?”

  “Much better.”

  “Great,” I say, smiling tightly. “What’s up?”

  “Do you know where your mother put the file of tax documents? They aren’t in the home office, and I don’t remember seeing them at the store.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  He shrugs. “She’s not speaking to me.”

  So much for my face mask helping me relax before bed. “Did you look in the cabinet under the desk?”

  “It’s not there.”

  “What about the drawer in the credenza?”

  “Nope.”

  I think for a moment. “What about Mom’s old briefcase? The one she stopped using after you spilled orange juice on it. I think it’s in the downstairs hall closet next to the vacuum cleaner.”

  He brightens. “I have not looked there.”

  “Then there you go,” I say, starting to close my door. “Good night—”

  “Wait,” he says, stopping me from closing it. “I want to ask you something else.”

  I open the door again. “What?”

  “Your mother is insisting we go to the bank together tomorrow morning, so we need you to cover the store.”

  “That wasn’t a question,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Dad, I worked the last four days in a row. Tomorrow is my day off.”

  “I have good news for you: working five days in a row will be good practice for adulthood,” he says, winking.

  I groan. “Can’t one of you go while the other works? Do you have to go together?”

  “Take it up with your mother,” he says. “Actually, don’t. She’ll just get pissed at me.”

  He starts
to walk down the hallway, and the urge to shout at him builds inside me, so fast and furious that for once I don’t even try to stop it. But instead of yelling at him about how it isn’t fair, or how he’s going to need to find out someone else to work at the store because my days there are numbered, what comes out of my mouth catches me by surprise.

  “I’m hanging out with April!”

  He turns around. “What, now?”

  “No,” I say. “Tomorrow.”

  I glance at her door, half expecting her to come out and call me a liar, but it stays closed. She must have snuck out or fallen asleep. “She invited me to hang out with her, and I already said yes.” I lift my chin and give him the look I see him use on antique dealers when he’s trying to convince them he’ll walk away if they don’t agree to his price. “I can’t turn my back on a commitment.”

  “Fine,” he says, shaking his head. “But you need to get Nate to cover your shift.”

  I want to protest that it’s Dad’s shift that needs covering, but sometimes you’ve gotta quit while you’re ahead. “Will do,” I say. “Good night.”

  “Love you, kid,” he says as he walks back down the hall.

  My stomach twists. As angry as he and Mom make me, I love them too. “Night, Dad.”

  I go back into my room and pick up my cell phone. I quickly text Nate, and he immediately agrees to cover for me. Then I text Tom.

  You’ll be glad to hear I’m hanging with April tmrw. Gonna have a lot to tell you at dinner.

  I wait for him to reply, but my phone stays silent. He must have gone to sleep. I finish getting ready, then crawl into bed. It’s only then that I realize what I’ve just agreed to—a full day with my sister, and nothing to distract us besides wherever she decides to take me.

  There’s no way we’ll get through the entire day without arguing. No way. But maybe Tom is right about telling her before I tell my parents. It’ll be good practice, and it’s not like she’s going to care one way or the other. Knowing April, she’ll probably listen just long enough to determine whether what I’m saying affects her, then change the subject or ignore me entirely.

  I scoot down under the covers and turn off the light.

  Good thing I’m used to it.

  CHAPTER 5

  APRIL

  April.

  April.

  APRIL.

  “WHAT?”

  “Are you awake?” Jenn calls through the door.

  “No.” I cover my head with my pillow to block the light shining through my window. It’s summer. I shouldn’t even know what the morning light looks like, let alone what it feels like on my face.

  “It’s time to get up,” Jenn says on the other side of the door. “Otherwise, we’re going to be late.”

  I throw the pillow aside. “Late to what?”

  There’s a weird rattling noise, and a second later my door opens, revealing Jenn in the doorway. “To our Special Sister Day, obviously. Isn’t it supposed to start at eight? I thought that’s what your schedule said.”

  “Okay, I never called it that, and you should be embarrassed that you just did.” I sit up in bed. “Also, you said you didn’t want to go.”

  Jenn comes inside and sits on the edge of my bed. It’s not even seven forty-five and she’s already dressed in a J.Crew romper, cardigan, and the same black flats from yesterday.

  “I know,” she says, “and I’m sorry. You were trying to be nice, and I was . . . not.”

  I yawn. “No, you really weren’t.”

  “But it’s not too late, is it? We could still go?”

  I lie back in bed. I want to tell her there’s still time, but I’m tired of letting everyone in my family treat me like a nuisance. “Sorry, but I made other plans.”

  “With who?”

  “Nate.”

  Jenn shakes her head. “I texted him last night. He’s covering my shift until Mom and Dad can go in at eleven thirty.”

  Damn you, Nate. “Fine, I didn’t make other plans. But that doesn’t mean you can change your mind and expect me to jump out of bed and be ready to go in five minutes.”

  Jenn frowns. “Why not? Isn’t that what you normally do?”

  I glare at her, but then her lips twitch, and I realize she’s teasing me.

  “So are we going or what?” she asks.

  The words I don’t want to are on the tip of my tongue, but I realize they’re not actually true. I want to go. I do.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, pushing her off the bed. “Go away so I can get dressed.”

  Jenn starts toward my door, but stops. “There’s just one thing. I have to be back home by five thirty. I’m getting dinner with—”

  “Thomas,” I say. “Yeah. I figured.”

  “Cool. I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

  “Wait,” I say as she turns to leave. “How the hell did you open my door just now? I locked it last night.”

  She pulls a bobby pin out of her perfectly straightened ponytail. “I used this.”

  “Seriously? That’s actually kind of impressive.”

  She smirks and sticks it back into her hair. “Maybe I’m not as lame as you think I am.”

  “Did you learn how to do it on YouTube?” I ask.

  “Maybe.”

  I grin and throw back the covers. “Then you’re exactly as lame as I think you are.”

  When she’s gone, I fire off a text to Nate. Scheming behind my back, huh?

  He sends back a string of winking emojis, plus a dog GIF for good measure. I smile, then toss the phone aside and start to get dressed. We’re a little behind schedule, but a bit of old-fashioned aggressive LA driving will help us catch up. Plus, Jenn seems like she’s in a good mood, which is lucky, since spending all day together is going to be awkward. We haven’t done it since she met Thomas.

  I take off my old AYSO soccer jersey, pull on cutoffs and a vintage T-shirt I got on supersale at a boho store on Abbot Kinney, and run a bit of antifrizz serum through my curls. Then I grab my sunglasses and my purse and head downstairs.

  Special Sister Day, coming right up.

  • • •

  Thirty minutes later, Jenn and I are standing in front of our first stop: The Conservatory for Coffee, Tea & Cocoa. The line is so long it stretches out the door and around the corner.

  “Wow,” Jenn says. “I’ve never seen it this busy.”

  I crane my neck to see what the holdup is. We’re across the street from Sony Pictures, so it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s someone famous here. That would explain the crowd—suddenly everyone and their mother needs a latte the second Emma Watson stops by. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like that’s the problem; they’re just regular old busy.

  We get in line. Jenn takes out her phone, probably to text Thomas about how lame this is. I sigh and pull the envelope of photos out of my purse. In the first one, twelve-year-old Jenn and ten-year-old me are sitting inside Conservatory underneath the large, fake tree they keep in the corner, two huge mugs steaming in front of us. We’d moved across town to Culver City two days earlier, and Mom and Dad brought us here to celebrate. Jenn took one look at the massive burlap bags full of coffee beans and the old men doing crossword puzzles out front and immediately fell in love with the place. And since I was still in my I want to do everything Jenn does phase, I immediately loved it too. The fact that the hot chocolate was amazing didn’t hurt either.

  I shove the photos back in my bag. I’d thought Conservatory would be the perfect place to start this day, but by the look of this line, I was wrong.

  “Hold on a second,” Jenn says. “I’ll be right back.”

  She walks past the line, then disappears inside Conservatory. I don’t know what she thinks she’s going to accomplish by going in. I sigh and lean against a parking meter. I should have known this place was going to be a madhouse. It’s eight thirty a.m. on a weekday and Sony employs roughly ten bajillion people across the street, not to mention all the other businesses in downtow
n Culver City. This was a stupid idea.

  I take out my phone and text Nate. Conservatory is packed. Need backup plan.

  His reply comes fast, like he was waiting for something like this to happen. Coffee Bean is nearby.

  Ugh, Coffee Bean. Everyone in LA is all about it, but if there’s one thing Jenn and I do agree on, it’s that Coffee Bean sucks. All the chains do. Maybe that makes me a snob—okay, it totally makes me a snob—but I don’t care. Coffee Bean and Starbucks suck. Anyone who disagrees can come at me.

  Except this line hasn’t moved, and the clock is ticking. We might have to settle. I send Nate a thank-you. It’s not his fault Conservatory is the busiest place on the planet.

  “Hey.”

  I look up, and find Jenn holding two ceramic Conservatory travel mugs.

  “I got you a mocha,” she says. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “How did you—”

  “A friend used to date the guy behind the counter. I texted him to see if he was working, and he was.” She hands me my drink. “The mochas were free, but I paid for the mugs.”

  I start to reach for my wallet, but she shakes her head. “They’re on me. I figure we can keep them to remember today by, when we’re apart.”

  I take a sip. Delicious. “I don’t know when we’re going to be apart, but that’s still really nice. Thank you.”

  She frowns, and I realize my mistake. The last thing she needs right now is a reminder that she’s not going anywhere. “Actually,” I say quickly, “I have an idea for how we can remember today, too.”

  I pull the Conservatory photo out of my purse and hand it to her. “I was thinking we could take a selfie at each place we go. Like a before-and-after thing.”

  “I hate selfies.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course you do.”

  “Oh, all right. But I’m only doing it if no one is watching. I hate trying to look cute and spontaneous when everyone around me knows I’m faking it.”

  “Everyone knows because everyone does it,” I say. “So there’s no point in being embarrassed. But fine—we’ll only take super private selfies.”