Perfectly Imperfect Ch. 4 - Uninvited Visitor
Somebody came. And I thought my life just ended. But it opened another door...
Ding. Dong.
It's 9:30 pm. No normal visitor would come crashing into our house by this time. What if it's the old woman from the other day? No, it can't be her. She can't even reach my shoulder! How could she possibly reach the doorbell button? This guy's pretty persistent! He won't even stop doorbelling until I open the door for him. Well let's see who's stronger.
Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong.
Okay he's stronger. The more he presses the button, the more I grow irritated.
"Coming!" I yelled in exasperation.
I raced towards the door with this feeling like my feet are tons heavy. A voice whispered into my sub-consciousness saying 'Don't open the door!' By human nature, men tend to oppose-I'm a man. Therefore, I didn't follow this voice. With no hesitation, I twisted the brass knob and pulled the door open. Oh well. I deserve a big I told you so. I shouldn't have opened the door.
"Surprise!"
What the hell?
"Why are you here?"
My jaw dropped. Flashbacks of our younger years came rushing into my head. Man, she used to be this fat 15 year old with mop-like brunette hair and over-tanned skin (She's a sun bunny). But what happened now? She...transformed! It was just 2 years since she left for London. I can't believe it's my step sister, Quinn Boyle, standing in my doorstep now.
"Can I not visit my brother?"
She's been in London for a few years so her British accent is expected. The way she batters her long lashes hooding her chocolate brown eyes just melts my heart, but no. She is my sister, even though we may not be biologically related, she is my sister.
"You bloody changed, Quinny." I tried to copy the accent, but sounded ridiculous.
"Are you gonna leave me here freezing, mate?"
Still, I was speechless. AS her hair was blown by the night breeze, I stared at her-amazed. Then I say those eyes winked at me, she winked at me? But I bet this is just one of her non-verbal ways of saying 'I told you, you're gonna eat your words when you said I was ugly'.
She made her way to the kitchen, mom's favorite place, while I stand on the same spot-infatuated to my own sister. That's kinda gross, eh?
I guess she's a lady now. That kiddo has undergone metamorphosis. True, she's one hot step sister now, but she's no less of a pesky, pain-in-the-butt sister. Geez, no matter how hard I try to get over with how Quinn has turned from an ugly witch to Rapunzel, I just can't.
You know the feeling when every time you close your eyes, all you see is the person you're obsessed with? Well, that's what I feel now. I see her face in detail, like a photo taken by a 10 megapixel camera-I can see her straight and brunette haircut in a Bob style, I can see her hazy eyes framed with the same glasses I got, I can see her lips swiped with a fresh layer of gloss.
Her scent still lingered in my nose, the smell of fresh spring bouquet. And her sense of fashion has changed too! Maybe back when she was 15, she used to be this Barbie wannabee, always wanting to cope up with the popular girls, forcing dad (step dad) to buy T-Vogue magazines. But now? Oversized shirts topped with a hoodie, skinny jeans, and hi-cut Converse sneakers may be overrated, but she looked totally fabulous in it.
"Spencer, aren't you gonna join us for dinner?" It was mom, popping my tiny dream bubble. Finally, I was able to move from the spot I was in for like 2 minutes already.
Dumbfounded, I sat in front of Quinn, who still has her sly grin engraved to her lips. I guess I can't look away from her-I noticed her pushing those glasses every time it falls to her nose bridge, I noticed her pursed her lips after shoving a spoonful of pasta into her mouth-and I pretty guess, too, that she knows I'm observing her.
"Should I sleep on your bed, or should you sleep on the couch?"
I have no idea she was talking to me. 2 years of no communication is a long time that I felt that our gap became bigger. She only visits us twice a year, on Christmas and on summer vacations. But we used to sleep on the bed together, sometimes o the couch with the TV on all night and yes, popcorn. But we're both 17 now (I'm older for 6 months). It's weird for us to hangout like we used to. Or we'll look like boyfriend and girlfriend.
"I-I'll stay on the couch." I stuttered. Shaking my head, I want to wake up from this beautiful nightmare. I mean me? Attracted to my own sister? That's called molesting! These fantasies of my sister are so weird.
I bet I'm half-awake, because I can feel that I'm freezing. And it's really dark, like, no-single-light-flickering kind of dark. But I saw a figure slithering through the eerie silence of the night. I have a wild imagination-one of the reason I hat sleeping on the couch alone. And I'm scared of ghosts too.
My body is stoned as the shadow move past towards my direction. I shut my eyes close, thinking that it's nothing, just my freaking imagination. But no! I can feel the ghost sitting beside me now, and even stroking my hair. It's ice-cold hands touching my skin send electric currents down my spine. Maybe Mr./Ms. Ghost can read minds too, like you, he/she/it even rolled a blanket over my stoned body. Ah, that's better. Then his/her/its lips touched my ears and whispered...
"I missed you Spencer."
Now I could address her as Ms. Ghost.
The morning sun filtered by the thick curtains of the living room windows was my alarm-clock-not mom's yell for breakfast, nor my expected 'Spencer...getupwearelateforschool!' scream from Quinn's throat. Have I told you that sentence have no punctuations? But, right, the last time I heard that was eons ago, when we used go to the same school.
"Mom? I, um, I'm late for school."
Silence. No reply from my pesky mother. Is she dead? (That's great said the Bad Spencer) No. Where is everybody? Then the magic of the holy refrigerator popped into my head-she usually sticks sticky notes there if she's leaving without notice. On auto-pilot, I made my way towards the magical fridge-there it is, except, it's not my mom's old-school calligraphic handwriting, but, if my memory serves me right, Quinn's barely legible scribbles.
Ha. The last line made the ends of my lips curve into a smile.
Don't do stupid stuff. As if I always do stupid stuff.
My stomach gave out an angry growl-a sign that I should grab something to eat. Cereals and milk popped into my head. Hm, I still have a few minutes to spare. Okay, I'll just go for the milk.
I grabbed the grip of the fridge and pulled it open.
All those food made me salivate, and there you are. Fresh Milk. With no hesitation, I twisted the cap and poured a generous amount into my mouth. Oops, maybe I got the wrong carton-maybe this is Yogurt drinks because it's...sour.
Anyway, I'm starved so I don't care. Just when I was about to lick the last drop of this Yogurt drink from my lips, another sticky note with Quinn's handwriting caught my attention.
First class today? Greek Mythology. Perfect. I'm going into a class with the most popular girl in school with a bad stomach. What if I let go of an uncontrolled fart? Or worse, what if I poop in my pants-wet poop? That's gross! A sure point for 'uncoolness'.
"Sorry I'm late." Panting like a mad dog, I swung the door open and surprised them with my haggard face. Oh, not them. Mr. Druid not yet there, fortunately.
"Are you alright?"
It was Rhian, preoccupied with the book about Reading and Writing Ancient Greek which was supposed to be for me, alone. Anyway, I made my way to the seat beside her and freshen up a bit by wiping the sweat drenching my face.
"Loser-I mean-Spencer, there's um..." She sounded hesitant; pointing something at my face I have no idea what.
"What?" I irritably retorted with my brows knitted.
"In your face..." Still pointing something at my face then grabbed her hanky from the pocket of her jeans.
"Close your eyes." She whispered to me. I let go of an uneasy shrill.
I felt her soft palms brushing off the stray hair on my face, and then it made its way to my cheek. I froze in awkwardness. Soon, I realized she was wiping some dirt from my face.
"Done."
Our faces were like only a few centimeters away from each other-blood in my head seemed to be drained. We were interrupted by the janitor who burst in to the office, with eyes wide open, as big as Jupiter.
"K-kissing. Students kissing, Mr. Druid!" Oh no. He's totally mistaken!
Seconds after, Mr. Druid came into the scene. His brows knitted in cynicism. Of course he knew we hated each other and he will not believe whatever that old janitor's blabbering about. They're all lies. But he gave me a helpless frown, one that looks like 'I guess I have to send you two to detention'.
"I guess I have to send you two to detention." As expected. First class? Detention.
I shot a glance at Rhian, honestly I was expecting her to have that irritated look again-knitted brows, pursed lips, arms crossed, heels making this annoying tapping noise-but she's laughing. Did anything funny happen?
"Are you really laughing or my eyes are really blurred now?" I cut the awkward silence (disregard Rhian's snickers). What I just said made her laugh harder.
"Detention. My first time." She still got that I-can't-believe-this-is-happening smile on her lips as she shakes her head as if something impossible just happened.
"You got to be kidding me." I was thunderstruck. It's her first to get a detention? All those time I thought she was the rule-breaker type of girl! Then her Yale scholarship flashed back into my mind-she's not a dumb brat, it's just the image portrayed by her clique.
I really can't believe these things just happened. I mean, yeah, thing happened, but not this fast that my stupid head can't process it anymore! Though bugged by the fiasco of occurrences, I was able to decode the prominent emotion on Rhian's face-she looks like she's happy spending her first detention with me.
It's 9:30 pm. No normal visitor would come crashing into our house by this time. What if it's the old woman from the other day? No, it can't be her. She can't even reach my shoulder! How could she possibly reach the doorbell button? This guy's pretty persistent! He won't even stop doorbelling until I open the door for him. Well let's see who's stronger.
Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong.
Okay he's stronger. The more he presses the button, the more I grow irritated.
"Coming!" I yelled in exasperation.
I raced towards the door with this feeling like my feet are tons heavy. A voice whispered into my sub-consciousness saying 'Don't open the door!' By human nature, men tend to oppose-I'm a man. Therefore, I didn't follow this voice. With no hesitation, I twisted the brass knob and pulled the door open. Oh well. I deserve a big I told you so. I shouldn't have opened the door.
"Surprise!"
What the hell?
"Why are you here?"
My jaw dropped. Flashbacks of our younger years came rushing into my head. Man, she used to be this fat 15 year old with mop-like brunette hair and over-tanned skin (She's a sun bunny). But what happened now? She...transformed! It was just 2 years since she left for London. I can't believe it's my step sister, Quinn Boyle, standing in my doorstep now.
"Can I not visit my brother?"
She's been in London for a few years so her British accent is expected. The way she batters her long lashes hooding her chocolate brown eyes just melts my heart, but no. She is my sister, even though we may not be biologically related, she is my sister.
"You bloody changed, Quinny." I tried to copy the accent, but sounded ridiculous.
"Are you gonna leave me here freezing, mate?"
Still, I was speechless. AS her hair was blown by the night breeze, I stared at her-amazed. Then I say those eyes winked at me, she winked at me? But I bet this is just one of her non-verbal ways of saying 'I told you, you're gonna eat your words when you said I was ugly'.
She made her way to the kitchen, mom's favorite place, while I stand on the same spot-infatuated to my own sister. That's kinda gross, eh?
I guess she's a lady now. That kiddo has undergone metamorphosis. True, she's one hot step sister now, but she's no less of a pesky, pain-in-the-butt sister. Geez, no matter how hard I try to get over with how Quinn has turned from an ugly witch to Rapunzel, I just can't.
You know the feeling when every time you close your eyes, all you see is the person you're obsessed with? Well, that's what I feel now. I see her face in detail, like a photo taken by a 10 megapixel camera-I can see her straight and brunette haircut in a Bob style, I can see her hazy eyes framed with the same glasses I got, I can see her lips swiped with a fresh layer of gloss.
Her scent still lingered in my nose, the smell of fresh spring bouquet. And her sense of fashion has changed too! Maybe back when she was 15, she used to be this Barbie wannabee, always wanting to cope up with the popular girls, forcing dad (step dad) to buy T-Vogue magazines. But now? Oversized shirts topped with a hoodie, skinny jeans, and hi-cut Converse sneakers may be overrated, but she looked totally fabulous in it.
"Spencer, aren't you gonna join us for dinner?" It was mom, popping my tiny dream bubble. Finally, I was able to move from the spot I was in for like 2 minutes already.
Dumbfounded, I sat in front of Quinn, who still has her sly grin engraved to her lips. I guess I can't look away from her-I noticed her pushing those glasses every time it falls to her nose bridge, I noticed her pursed her lips after shoving a spoonful of pasta into her mouth-and I pretty guess, too, that she knows I'm observing her.
"Should I sleep on your bed, or should you sleep on the couch?"
I have no idea she was talking to me. 2 years of no communication is a long time that I felt that our gap became bigger. She only visits us twice a year, on Christmas and on summer vacations. But we used to sleep on the bed together, sometimes o the couch with the TV on all night and yes, popcorn. But we're both 17 now (I'm older for 6 months). It's weird for us to hangout like we used to. Or we'll look like boyfriend and girlfriend.
"I-I'll stay on the couch." I stuttered. Shaking my head, I want to wake up from this beautiful nightmare. I mean me? Attracted to my own sister? That's called molesting! These fantasies of my sister are so weird.
I bet I'm half-awake, because I can feel that I'm freezing. And it's really dark, like, no-single-light-flickering kind of dark. But I saw a figure slithering through the eerie silence of the night. I have a wild imagination-one of the reason I hat sleeping on the couch alone. And I'm scared of ghosts too.
My body is stoned as the shadow move past towards my direction. I shut my eyes close, thinking that it's nothing, just my freaking imagination. But no! I can feel the ghost sitting beside me now, and even stroking my hair. It's ice-cold hands touching my skin send electric currents down my spine. Maybe Mr./Ms. Ghost can read minds too, like you, he/she/it even rolled a blanket over my stoned body. Ah, that's better. Then his/her/its lips touched my ears and whispered...
"I missed you Spencer."
Now I could address her as Ms. Ghost.
The morning sun filtered by the thick curtains of the living room windows was my alarm-clock-not mom's yell for breakfast, nor my expected 'Spencer...getupwearelateforschool!' scream from Quinn's throat. Have I told you that sentence have no punctuations? But, right, the last time I heard that was eons ago, when we used go to the same school.
"Mom? I, um, I'm late for school."
Silence. No reply from my pesky mother. Is she dead? (That's great said the Bad Spencer) No. Where is everybody? Then the magic of the holy refrigerator popped into my head-she usually sticks sticky notes there if she's leaving without notice. On auto-pilot, I made my way towards the magical fridge-there it is, except, it's not my mom's old-school calligraphic handwriting, but, if my memory serves me right, Quinn's barely legible scribbles.
Ha. The last line made the ends of my lips curve into a smile.
Don't do stupid stuff. As if I always do stupid stuff.
My stomach gave out an angry growl-a sign that I should grab something to eat. Cereals and milk popped into my head. Hm, I still have a few minutes to spare. Okay, I'll just go for the milk.
I grabbed the grip of the fridge and pulled it open.
All those food made me salivate, and there you are. Fresh Milk. With no hesitation, I twisted the cap and poured a generous amount into my mouth. Oops, maybe I got the wrong carton-maybe this is Yogurt drinks because it's...sour.
Anyway, I'm starved so I don't care. Just when I was about to lick the last drop of this Yogurt drink from my lips, another sticky note with Quinn's handwriting caught my attention.
First class today? Greek Mythology. Perfect. I'm going into a class with the most popular girl in school with a bad stomach. What if I let go of an uncontrolled fart? Or worse, what if I poop in my pants-wet poop? That's gross! A sure point for 'uncoolness'.
"Sorry I'm late." Panting like a mad dog, I swung the door open and surprised them with my haggard face. Oh, not them. Mr. Druid not yet there, fortunately.
"Are you alright?"
It was Rhian, preoccupied with the book about Reading and Writing Ancient Greek which was supposed to be for me, alone. Anyway, I made my way to the seat beside her and freshen up a bit by wiping the sweat drenching my face.
"Loser-I mean-Spencer, there's um..." She sounded hesitant; pointing something at my face I have no idea what.
"What?" I irritably retorted with my brows knitted.
"In your face..." Still pointing something at my face then grabbed her hanky from the pocket of her jeans.
"Close your eyes." She whispered to me. I let go of an uneasy shrill.
I felt her soft palms brushing off the stray hair on my face, and then it made its way to my cheek. I froze in awkwardness. Soon, I realized she was wiping some dirt from my face.
"Done."
Our faces were like only a few centimeters away from each other-blood in my head seemed to be drained. We were interrupted by the janitor who burst in to the office, with eyes wide open, as big as Jupiter.
"K-kissing. Students kissing, Mr. Druid!" Oh no. He's totally mistaken!
Seconds after, Mr. Druid came into the scene. His brows knitted in cynicism. Of course he knew we hated each other and he will not believe whatever that old janitor's blabbering about. They're all lies. But he gave me a helpless frown, one that looks like 'I guess I have to send you two to detention'.
"I guess I have to send you two to detention." As expected. First class? Detention.
I shot a glance at Rhian, honestly I was expecting her to have that irritated look again-knitted brows, pursed lips, arms crossed, heels making this annoying tapping noise-but she's laughing. Did anything funny happen?
"Are you really laughing or my eyes are really blurred now?" I cut the awkward silence (disregard Rhian's snickers). What I just said made her laugh harder.
"Detention. My first time." She still got that I-can't-believe-this-is-happening smile on her lips as she shakes her head as if something impossible just happened.
"You got to be kidding me." I was thunderstruck. It's her first to get a detention? All those time I thought she was the rule-breaker type of girl! Then her Yale scholarship flashed back into my mind-she's not a dumb brat, it's just the image portrayed by her clique.
I really can't believe these things just happened. I mean, yeah, thing happened, but not this fast that my stupid head can't process it anymore! Though bugged by the fiasco of occurrences, I was able to decode the prominent emotion on Rhian's face-she looks like she's happy spending her first detention with me.
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