Chapter 5

I used to be extremely jealous of Andrea, because she is so gorgeous and she gets everything that she wants without even really trying. But it doesn’t bother me anymore. Really. I mean, it’s really not her fault that she gets any guy she wants. And she can’t help it that she usually gets any guy I want too! It’s that whole Snow White syndrome. When you’re the “fairest one of all,” it’s only natural for every warm-blooded male in the vicinity to go crazy when you walk into the room, right?

Honestly, it’s not Andi’s fault that almost every guy I’ve ever been interested in has asked me to set them up on a date with my little sister. She can’t help being more appealing to them than I am. We are just natural opposites. Andi got all of the best qualities from the family gene pool. She was blessed with the beauty and wit and charm and confidence – all of the qualities that guys are looking for in a girl. I got stuck with the brains and a “good sense of humor” – the kinds of qualities that make me just a good “buddy.”

Andi and I have the same height, the same sense of humor and the same last name. The similarities end right there. If you saw us out in public, you would never even guess that we were related! We really don’t look alike at all.

I wish that I could be as thin and gorgeous as Andi is, but it will never happen. We are just built differently. I am slightly chubby. Andi is thin as a rail. Diets never seem to work for me. Andi never has to think about dieting. I have tried every diet imaginable. Andi can eat junk food all day long, and she never gains an ounce!

My measurements are 42” / 25” / 34” and it’s impossible to find clothes that fit me right. I usually have to buy shirts and dresses in size 16 or 18, just to fit across my chest, and then Mom has to pull out her sewing machine to take them in at the waistline so that they don’t hang like a potato sack on me. I guess it’s a good thing that Mom can sew, but it would be even nicer if I wasn’t so top heavy!

Andi’s measurements are 26” / 22” / 26” – a perfect “hourglass figure”! She can always buy anything she wants right off the rack and have it fit perfectly. It’s like the designers used Andi as the model of the perfect woman when designing their fashions. This makes sense, I guess, considering the fact that she really is pretty perfect.

Andrea is such a great sister, though, that I really can’t envy her good luck in the beauty department. She even pretends to envy me so that I won’t feel so bad about my unfortunate shape.

“Laina, it’s not fair,” she’ll say. “How am I ever going to get Mark to notice me when he only sees me around you? There’s no way that I can compete with a body like yours!”

Mark is in band with us, the only class that Andi and I have together. He used to sit next to me in 5th grade, and we would get in trouble for talking too much in class. He is really funny, and he’s always been really good at making me laugh. I introduced him to Andi when we were in the Eastland Junior High wind ensemble together. She has been in love with Mark for years, but she absolutely refuses to do anything about it. She never even talks to him if I’m not around to get the conversation going for her.

Andi thinks that Mark will never notice her. I think she’s crazy. He already has. I’m sure he likes her. Everyone does. All she has to do is snap her fingers, and she can have any guy she wants! Mark is no different.

“Andi, you’re being ridiculous again. You are absolutely gorgeous! Besides, a body like mine is easy to compete with.” I frowned into the mirror. “No one could ever be attracted to this!”

I glared at my reflection and tried to convince myself that the mirror must be warped, like those funhouse mirrors at a carnival, where everything is skewed and disproportionate. I tried to believe that I didn’t really look as bad as the mirror made it appear. But when Andi stood next to me, I had to accept that it wasn’t the mirror that was warped. It was just me. Alaina Ann Andersen, the walking funhouse mirror!

“I’ll tell you what, Laina,” Andi bubbled. “Why don’t we just switch bodies? I can look like you and you can look like me, and then we’ll both be happy. Although, I don’t know why you aren’t happy with the way things are now. I would never want to look like me if I had the chance to look like you!”

“Yeah, why don’t you just get to work and invent a body-switching machine?” I asked. “Let me know when it’s ready, and you’ve got yourself a new body!”

“Don’t be silly,” she giggled. “We both know that you are the brainiac of the family. You’re going to have to put together the body-switching machine yourself – but I'm a great shopper. I can buy the parts you need, if you make me a list!”

We have this conversation almost every morning, while we’re getting ready for school, and it always ends with both of us laughing so hard that we’re almost late. I think it’s sweet that Andrea would put on the act just to make me feel better. Honestly, I would trade bodies with her in a heartbeat, if such a thing were possible, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she would not really trade shapes with me, even if she could. After all, who in her right mind would ever trade being thin and gorgeous for being chunky and lopsided?

But like I said, I am not jealous. I know that Andrea can’t help being the object of every guy’s dreams. And really, she is one of my best friends. We have so much fun together, and I know that she really loves me and wants me to be happy. Even though we don’t have a single thing in common, I really am closer to Andi than anyone else. And it’s not just because she’s my sister. She’s just an amazing person and a great friend. And she always knows the right thing to do or say in just about every circumstance. (I wish I had that ability!)

The bottom line is that Andi is always there for me. Through thick and thin, happy or sad, no matter what, my little sister has got my back. She makes me laugh when I’m feeling blue, she helps me to put things into perspective when I go a little bit crazy, and she is always really careful about trying not to make me feel inferior. What more could I ask for in a sister? I’m really lucky to have Andi in my life, even if she does outshine me at every turn.

Chapter 4

With Andrea’s black hair, fair skin and bright red lips (she never even needs lipstick!); I always tell her that she was patterned after Snow White. And just like Snow White, Andi really is “the fairest one of all.” Sometimes, I feel like the jealous and not-too-pretty evil queen. But I guess that’s not really a fair comparison. I won’t be trying to feed poisoned apples to my little sister any time soon. I love Andi, and I would simply die if anything ever happened to her.

Andrea is kind of my biggest cheerleader. She’s always trying to convince me that I am the gorgeous sister. Even though I know that it’s just something that she says to try to make me feel better about myself, I really appreciate the act. At least she tries to contradict that magic mirror that tells us both that I will never measure up.

I try not to resent Andi for being “the fairest one of all.” Besides, we all know what happened to the wicked queen when she tried to fight against Snow White. I wouldn’t stand a chance! I guess I just have no choice but to accept and embrace Andi’s beauty. I have to accept the fact that she will always be the one to get the boy.

Even Jarod has a crush on my little sister. He hasn’t ever said so. In fact, he always refers to her as “Alaina’s somewhat annoying little sister,” but I know that he secretly likes her. I can always tell what a guy is thinking! He tries to hide it, but he is absolutely in love. I can tell by the way Jarod acts and by the way that he looks at her. It’s really pretty obvious. My buddy, Jarod, like all other red-blooded American teenage boys, is completely smitten with my little sister, Andi!

I used to think that Jarod was the only boy on Earth who wasn’t obsessed with Andrea. I thought that, with Jarod, at least, I didn’t have to worry about being eclipsed by her beauty. I realized how wrong I was the first time that Jarod came over to my house.

It was his 16th birthday, and he had just passed his driver’s test. His first solo drive was to my house so that I could make him some cookies and he could show off his “new” car. (His parents gave him a used Geo Metro for his birthday.) We were sitting together on the couch, deep in a “very serious” conversation. (Jarod always says that the crazy conversations we find our way into are actually “very serious.” I think he says that just because it makes me smile.)

As always, Jarod was playing with my hair. He told me when we met that my hair was the kind that made you want to just reach out and pet it. He still says that he loves to pet my head. I think that makes me sound like some kind of a dog, but I know that Jarod thinks he’s paying me a compliment, so I don’t say anything about it anymore.

Jarod was teasing me for driving a “land yacht.” I have a 1977 Buick LeSabre that my cousin sold to me for fifty dollars. Sure, it’s not the prettiest car, but it runs well, and you can’t beat that price!

“Well, it’s a good thing that I have a big car,” I said. “When I get my license in a few months, I’ll be able to fit everyone in my car at once when we go out. Your car is so tiny that it would probably only fit the two of us comfortably! That means that Rob and Josh and anyone else who wanted to come along would either have to be really crowded or take a separate car. Where is the fun in that?”

Of course, Jarod felt obligated to defend his Metro. “I prefer to think of my car as cozy. Besides, maybe I don’t always want to drag everyone along every time I go out.” He raised one eyebrow and frowned at me slightly. I rolled my eyes. Jarod always complains that I surround myself with crowds of people much too often. He says that it’s impossible for us to ever have a real conversation because I always have a crowd of adoring fans surrounding me.

I don’t know what he’s talking about, really. I mean, I admit that we hang out with a pretty big group of guys sometimes, but it’s almost always his friends we hang out with. Rob and Josh and Frank and Joe… I’m just the tag-along! They only put up with me because I’m Jarod’s friend. It’s not like they would want to spend time with just me or anything. Besides, Jarod was wrong anyway. I’m almost always alone. That’s probably why I have so much fun going out in a big group sometimes. It makes me feel like I’m not entirely socially unacceptable.

But I didn’t feel like getting into that argument again. I smiled. “Okay, well, whatever makes you feel better about it… I guess I’ll have to accept your rationalizations, won’t I?”

“Well, my car suits me,” Jarod pouted. “Every car has its own personality and expression.” His eyes lit up and he grinned. “Have you ever noticed that the car usually matches its driver?”

“Now just wait a minute, buddy!” I protested. “You were just talking about how huge my car is. Does that mean that you think I’m huge too?” I looked down and let my hair fall across my face. That’s the best thing about long hair. It’s easy to hide behind.

Jarod rolled his eyes and reached over to brush my hair out of my eyes. “No, you silly goose. What I’m saying is that the personality of the car matches the personality of the driver!”

“Oh… so you’re saying that I just have the personality of a land yacht?” I tried to make my voice sound light and teasing so that Jarod wouldn’t know how upsetting his idea really was. I mean, how would you like it if your best friend told you that you were like a land yacht?

Jarod sighed and shook his head. “Laina, that is not what I meant, and you know it. I’m talking about the way that the headlights and grille of every car look like its face. Your big old car has a great big permanent grin. It reminds me of your beautiful smile.” He stopped talking and raised one eyebrow, waiting expectantly. I couldn’t help it. I had to smile.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Your smile is as much a part of you as the grille is a part of your Buick. I always feel like there’s something missing when you stop smiling.” Jarod brushed a stray curl away from my face, and for some reason, my skin went all tingly when his fingers traced the contours of my cheek.

I pulled back slightly and shook my head, hoping that he wouldn’t notice my reaction to his touch. “Okay, so my Buick and I have the same kind of smile. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I’ll accept it.” I grinned. “What about everyone else, though? Does this rule work all the time, or am I just special?”

“Well, of course you’re special, Alaina,” Jarod winked, “but the rule does work for everyone. Take Rob, for instance. His old Pinto has the same shy, tight-lipped smile that he does. And Frank Hart, with his big nose and googly eyes, looks just like his old, beat-up 1945 Ford pickup truck. The patches of rust on the hood even match Frank’s acne!”

I giggled. I would never be able to see Frank again without picturing the Ford logo plastered across his forehead.

It was at this point that Andrea came bouncing in. “What’s so funny, Laina? You’ve gotta let me in on the joke too!” She turned to Jarod and flashed her billion-dollar smile. “Oh, hi Jarod! I haven’t seen you in forever! What have you been up to, cutie?”

I never thought that I would see the day when Jarod Johnson didn’t know what to say. But as soon as he saw my gorgeous sister, he was completely tongue-tied. His face flushed, and he dropped the lock of my hair that he had been playing with like it burned him. He slid over to the opposite end of the couch and folded his hands in his lap. I guess he was afraid that Andi might think we were together or something.

I quickly explained Jarod’s theory of car personalities to Andrea, and she grinned. She came over and plopped down onto the couch, in the space that Jarod had created between us. She flashed a smile and batted her eyelashes as she leaned in and asked, “Well, Jarod, then what does your car say about you?”

Jarod cleared his throat and glanced quickly at me before he spoke. “I have a little Geo Metro, and that thing looks like it is just as confused as I am.” He chuckled hesitantly, and I glowered. I didn’t think it was very funny.

I know that Jarod was subtly trying to ask me whether or not I would mind if he asked my little sister out, but I just couldn’t bring myself to give him the okay on that. If I sound like I was jealous, let me assure you that I was not. Well, not really. I mean, Jarod and I are just friends. It’s not like I want to date him or anything. Not really. At least, not anymore. I know that it would never work out if we tried it.

Jarod calls himself my “big brother,” and I go to him whenever I need some brotherly advice. It would just be too weird if I ever tried to date him. Not that he ever thinks about me in that way, anyway. But if he’s my “big brother,” shouldn’t that mean that he should see Andrea like a little sister too? After all, she’s my little sister, and I’m his “little sister”. It’s not fair that Andi always gets to be the girl!

Chapter 3

So that’s me in a nutshell. I think. I mean, I guess I’m not really sure. I’ve never really tried to describe myself before. I suppose I am just your average, everyday, brainiac geek. I guess you could call me a loner. I do have some friends, but not very many. Mostly guys.

For some reason, I have trouble making friends with other girls. I have one best girl friend, Kendra Smith, but the other girls just don’t seem to like me very much. Sure, I talk to them sometimes at school, but we don’t go out to do things very often.

I’m almost never invited to any kind of girls’ nights out, but the guys have no trouble accepting me. So I spend most of my time as “one of the guys.” My mom is always telling me that is why the other girls don’t like me much. She says that they are threatened by a beautiful, intelligent girl who also happens to be close friends with all of their boyfriends.

Mom almost has a point. I suppose that I would probably be a little bit worried if I had a boyfriend who spent a large chunk of his free time with a beautiful girl. But that’s exactly where Mom’s theory goes down the drain. I am definitely not beautiful!

I mean, it’s not like I’m hideous or anything, but Southbrook High School is virtually filled with gorgeous girls. You would think that I went to a school for supermodels! I definitely don’t fit that mold. I am just plain me.

I would love to be cute and athletic like Rachel, the captain of the cheerleading squad. Rachel is the perfect head cheerleader. It’s like she was designed for the part. She is fun and upbeat, and she never stops smiling. I would kill to have dimples like Rachel! But I will never be a cheerleader. It’s really not for me.

I still remember how humiliating it was when I briefly entertained the dream of trying out for cheerleading. I was at lunch, sitting with Kendra at our table in the center of the cafeteria, as always. And as always, my friends George, Roger and Jim (the quarterback, wide receiver and kicker for our Varsity football team) had come over to chat with me when they had finished eating. Just before they walked over, I had told Kendra that I was thinking of trying out for the squad, and she was laughing so hard that she could hardly breathe.

“What’s so funny, Kendra? C’mon, fill us in on the joke,” Jim begged.

It took her almost 5 minutes to catch her breath, but finally Kendra asked, “Could you guys imagine Alaina as a cheerleader? She just said that she was thinking of trying out!”

Jim laughed. “Well, I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing her in uniform.” He grinned at Roger and winked. “Even if I wasn’t on the football team, I think I might have to go to the games just to see it!”

I cringed. Jim was right. There was no way that I could ever pull off the short skirts that Rachel and the other cheerleaders wear. I hadn’t even considered how atrocious I would look in a cheerleader’s uniform!

“Okay, guys, I get it,” I announced. “I wasn’t really serious about the whole cheerleading thing anyway. It was just a joke!” I forced a smile and hoped that we could move on to the next topic.

But Kendra wasn’t finished mocking me. “Laina is so uncoordinated! She would probably knock over the pyramid and trip the quarterback on his way out to the field!”

George draped one arm across my shoulders. “She wouldn’t even have to trip me. I’ve already fallen for Alaina!” He nudged Jim and I rolled my eyes. George is such a cornball sometimes!

“And just think,” Roger quipped. “I could be there to catch her every time she fell off of the top of the pyramid! It would be a lot more fun than running all over the field, trying to catch George’s erratic passes. This boy can’t hit the broad side of a barn!” He pantomimed a clumsy pass, pretending to fumble the ball instead.

“Oh yeah?” George countered, punching Roger in the gut. “Well who threw three perfect touchdown passes in the last game, wise guy? And which one of us fumbled the ball two yards short of the end zone to cost us the game? That sure wasn’t me, bozo!”

The guys got into a heated discussion about football plays and strategies, and luckily, the whole idea of Alaina Ann Andersen, klutzy cheerleader, was abandoned. I never mentioned it again. And I definitely didn’t sign up for the tryouts. I don’t know what I was thinking in the first place! I guess we all have silly and unattainable dreams sometimes. I simply don’t belong in the spotlight. I am much more suited to sit on the sidelines, fading into the background.

I do wish that I could be more confident, though, like April Mason. She has won first place in the Future Stars competition for 4 years in a row! She always gets the lead in the school plays, and I still haven’t even worked up the courage to audition. And April gets the solos in choir every single time! I keep telling myself that I’ll get it next time, but Mrs. Harmony says that my voice is better suited to sing the descant. I never even get to sing the actual melody. Even in choir I have to be content with filling in the background!

So here I am, stuck in a school full of funny, talented, witty, coordinated and gorgeous girls, and there is nothing spectacular about me at all. I am just plain old, boring Alaina Ann Andersen. So Mom has to be wrong. It couldn’t be jealousy. There must be some other reason that I’m ostracized by most of the girls in my class. I just wish I could figure out what that reason is!

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a total social leper. I have been on a couple of first dates. I just haven’t had any second dates yet. Jarod says that it’s because I haven’t met anyone worthy of me. Andi tells me that it’s just because I’m even more intimidating the more you get to know me. She says that I’m too amazing. I know she’s just trying to make me feel better, but I have to be honest. It does make me feel better.

Mom is sure that I’m going to have more boyfriends than I can keep track of, as soon as they mature a little bit so that they can “catch up to” me. I guess it could happen, but I’m not holding my breath. Actually, the fact that I have gone out with anyone at all is pretty amazing in and of itself, since the guys just never seem to really even notice that I am a girl. I am just a friend, a pal. Like I said, I’m “one of the guys.”

It’s kind of embarrassing, sometimes, to be the only girl in a group of guys. Other people always assume that it means more than it does. I know that none of my guy friends are interested in being my boyfriend, but still I have to deal with rude comments every time we hang out together.

For instance, at the Spring Fling dance sophomore year, when I walked in with Jarod, Rob and Josh (I have the biggest car, so I usually drive when I am out with my friends), I heard Stella mutter under her breath to Gwendolyn, “Here comes Alaina with her harem again!” I don’t think that any of the guys heard her, which is a good thing; because they might get the wrong idea or something. Calling them my “harem” even implies that these guys might be interested in me, but that’s really silly. I mean, really, Jarod, Rob and Josh? None of them would ever think of me in that way.

I will never be the bubbly, popular, talented or incredibly gorgeous kind of girl that guys notice. I would probably be okay if I weren’t surrounded by so many incredible girls all the time. Maybe if I went to a different high school, where I didn’t have to compete with supermodels-in-training…

But that still wouldn’t help me much, because I will always be compared to my little sister, Andrea. She is everything that I could never hope to be. Andrea is the same height as me, 5’ 8 ½”, but she is incredibly thin and gorgeous. She has beautiful raven-black hair. Andrea’s hair is not too long, like mine is, but it’s not too short, either. It comes down to the middle of her back, and she has the cutest natural ringlets. She doesn’t even have to do anything to it. She just washes her hair, runs a comb through it and lets it air dry. Voila! Instant beauty! All of the guys go absolutely gaga as soon as Andrea walks into the room. She is never, absolutely never treated like “just one of the guys!”

Chapter 2

My teachers call me a “model student” and my parents tell all of their friends that I am their “perfect daughter” who “never even thinks about breaking the rules.” Of course, they are both wrong. I know so many other kids who take school more seriously than I do. I try my best and I get good grades, of course, but I could never spend my entire Spring Break collecting and sorting dryer lint samples for an extra credit science project, like Frank Hart did last year. He didn’t even need the extra credit, because he already had the highest grade in class. I personally don’t see the point in doing extra work just for the sake of extra work, and I certainly don’t feel like a “model” anything!

I don’t know why my parents keep calling me “perfect.” Just wishful thinking, I guess. I mean, I make tons of mistakes! If there is a way to make a complete fool of yourself in any given situation, trust me, I am the one who will discover it. Luckily, Jarod is usually there to help me up when I fall or to distract everyone with a funny story when I humiliate myself. I really don’t know how I would survive without him!

As for the rest, it’s all just a big misunderstanding I guess. Of course I think about breaking the rules. Doesn’t everybody at least think about it? Sometimes, I wish that I could just throw caution to the wind and go have a wild night of fun and frivolity. I would love to let loose and go crazy every now and then. I’m certain that it would be less lonely. Maybe I would even be able to catch Shane’s attention.

Every weekend, all of my friends get together at someone’s house for a big party. Sometimes, I want to go too, but I don’t. Ever. I know my parents would never approve. They would never get over it if their “perfect” child got caught at a kegger! Besides, I don’t really think that I would be comfortable anyway. I don’t drink. I promised my parents that I wouldn’t ever even try it. Actually, I don’t really want to.

I guess I’m too afraid that I might do something that I would regret if I ever got drunk. I’ve heard all of the stories that my friends tell about these parties. It sounds to me like people do really stupid things when they’re drinking. Like the time that Alice got totally wasted at a bonfire and thought that her clothes had caught fire. She started stripping right in front of everyone, trying to save herself from the imaginary flames!

I don’t think that I am willing to take that risk. It’s hard enough to control myself when I’m sober! I shudder to think of what I might do if I got drunk. If I went to one of the parties, I would be the only one who wasn’t drinking. It would be too weird, so I just don’t go. Still, I sometimes feel like maybe I am missing out on a major part of the teenage experience.

Every Monday, I have to sit and listen to everyone talking about how great the party was. I get to hear accounts of how much fun they had, and sometimes it really does sound like a lot of fun. I mean, I wouldn’t want to wind up like Alice or anything, but I hate feeling like everyone around me shares a secret that I will never be a part of.

Even while I’m wishing that I had been a part of it all, every week I have to make up excuses for why I wasn’t at the party. And sometimes I wonder if the promise that I made about drinking is really worth the agony of sitting at home by myself every Saturday night.

Actually, a few weeks ago, I decided that I would go along to the weekend bash. I told Melissa that I would be her designated driver. She is usually the one who gets stuck being the designated driver for everyone else because she really can’t hold her liquor well. She gets drunk on just a sip or two of beer, and according to all of the stories, she gets pretty wild. So she doesn’t drink very often.

But Melissa had been having a really rough week, and she felt like she needed to unwind. She asked me to drive for her, and I said that I would. I mean, it was pretty clear that she would be drinking no matter what I said, and I didn’t want her to get behind the wheel if she was drunk! Besides, I had a feeling that she was asking me to be more than her designated driver. Melissa was looking for a chaperone.

Nick heard my conversation with Melissa, and he caught up to me in the hall after class. I was confused by the look of panic in his eyes as he grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the side of the hall, out of the rush of students hurrying to the next class. He didn’t stop walking, but his pace slowed considerably as he spoke.

“Laina, you know that the party is at my house this Saturday night, right?” The strained tone in Nick’s voice matched the panic in his eyes. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I could tell that he was upset about something.

“Yeah,” I slowed my pace to match Nick’s stride, trying to keep my tone light. I didn’t know what was wrong, and I didn’t want to make it worse, whatever it was. “So, I guess that means I need your address. Or does Melissa already have it?”

Nick sped up a bit and looked past me down the hall, avoiding my eyes as he spoke. “Well, she does have my address, but… umm… Laina, that’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you.” He cleared his throat and coughed, turning his head to study my face. “Really, Laina, I would prefer it if you didn’t come to my party this weekend.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him. He kept walking, and I had to grab his arm to keep him from rushing off down the hall. “What?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Nick, I thought that we were friends.”

He smiled, his features relaxing in genuine amusement. “Laina, of course we’re friends. You are the nicest girl I know. That’s why I don’t want you to come.”

He must have seen the confusion in my eyes, because he rushed to explain himself further. “This isn’t your kind of party. You would not be comfortable, and you really wouldn’t approve. I don’t want you to hate me, so I would prefer it if you weren’t there to see me at my worst.”

Nick smiled, sheepishly. “Please, as a personal favor to me, stay home this weekend. I’ll keep an eye on Melissa and make sure that she doesn’t drive or do anything stupid. I will see you on Monday.” He squeezed my hand and scurried off down the hall without waiting for a reply.

I thought about going anyway, but I guess Nick got to Melissa next. She found me at lunch and told me that she had reconsidered and would be able to relax much easier if I didn’t go to the party with her. Instead, she had asked her cousin, Cheryl, to keep her in line. Cheryl doesn’t drink anymore, not since she had that pregnancy scare last year, and I knew that she would make sure that Melissa didn’t do anything stupid.

I didn’t try to crash Nick’s party. I sat home alone once again on Saturday night, grateful at least that the fog crept in to keep me company. At least I didn’t have to be lonely when I could escape into my magical kingdom.

Still, I have to admit that this good-girl reputation is not much fun. It certainly makes for an empty social calendar. Sometimes, I wish that I could be more wild and carefree, like my little sister, Andrea. She is always the first one invited to the biggest parties. I’m not exactly sure if she drinks, because we never talk about that, but I suspect that she does it at least sometimes. She doesn’t make all of the other kids uncomfortable!

Andi really doesn’t care what our parents think, as long as she doesn’t get caught and punished for breaking the rules. She is really good at not getting caught. Well, usually. But she certainly breaks the rules often enough! Maybe that’s why Mom and Dad worry about her more than they worry about me.

I’m not sure if that’s such a bad thing. I mean, I like the fact that my parents can trust me. But still, sometimes I wonder which of the Andersen sisters is really the smart one. Andrea would never be officially invited not to come to the party! Sometimes, I think that I should just do something really crazy to show everyone that I really do know how to have fun. Just once, I would like to be the life of the party, the one that everyone wants to hang out with.

But my parents would probably die from embarrassment and disappointment if I ever dared to try anything. Not that I would, really. Even without the threat of disappointing Mom and Dad, I have no desire to drink. I mean, beer stinks! I asked Melissa why anyone would want to drink something that smells so foul, and she said that it’s an acquired taste. But who would want to actually acquire a taste for it?

I could go to the parties as the designated driver, like I almost did with Melissa, and then I would have a ready excuse for staying sober without being left out. For anyone else, that would probably work out just fine. But not me. Apparently, everyone at school expects me to be just as “perfect” as Mom and Dad always say that I am. With those high expectations, who would dare take any risks?