Amber

Chapter 14

October 17, 2014

Dear Journal,

My sister's eyes are the color of nowhere. They're portals. Reminders of all of the things in life we've seen together and all those we haven't.

When I was younger but old enough to start noticing my sister's physical appearance and all of the ways her body looked different from mine, I asked my mother why Hannah had special eyes when mine were a boring shade of brown.

She gave a real mom-like response.

"Because everyone is different, honey. Even sisters."

Different.

That's putting it mildly. And the runaway winner for understatement of the century goes to Taylor Austin—proud mother of two, loyal wife, and maker of peanut butter raisin cookies that are to die for!

Then I started to notice exactly how different we were. I began to notice how much taller she was, even after the seventh grade and my supposed growth-spurt. Hannah still towered over me like a flower constantly shading a blade of grass.

Then I noticed her boobs—all shirt-filling, round, lively, and extremely noticeable. Mine are more of the mini tea-cup sized variety that hang there all subtle and awkward like "Hey, we're your boobs. Don't tell anyone else."

She's always had killer teeth, which of course means a killer smile. I needed a retainer in the sixth grade and braces through the end of middle school.

We do have similar hair, both glowingly blonde and naturally wavy. But then she decided on a shorter haircut that looks absolutely perfect on her and makes her look at least five years older, sophisticated, and super-modelish.

I remember the hairdresser telling her she should cut her hair shorter so that her beautiful facial features could show more prominently. Then after Hannah, I got in the chair, and the hairdresser said, "So, what will it be then? An inch off this time?" I guess my features are not the show-off type.

Plus Hannah was given all of the talent. And personality. She's athletic. She can dance, paint, sing, act, and cook with the best of them. Oh, and she's piss-your-pants funny.

I have book smarts ... so ... ya ...

It would probably be pretty easy to hate my sister if she was anything less than the nicest person ever. We could have been mortal enemies. I would probably spend most of my time thinking of ways I could cut her open and wear her skin around me like a costume to see what it feels like walking around in it.

But my mother was absolutely right. People are different. So while I was given this dark, disturbed, sister-cutting mind and black heart, Hannah was given this crazy generous and super amazing heart that makes it impossible to not love her like she's the only thing worth loving in the world.

So when I come to her in a crisis like now on the eve of my first official date with Brad, she isn't the sister with bigger boobs and a better smile. She's the tall flower of a sister who wants to let you climb so that you can see the world from her height.

"Stop pacing, Lee. You're going to wear a hole in the floor," she said when I came to her room earlier tonight, panicked and asking exactly how I was going to survive dinner with boy gorgeous.

"First rule about dating—don't let him know how much you like him."

I stopped pacing long enough to shoot her an evil eye. "Everyone knows that. It's not like I'm trying to freak out. I'm just ... freaking out. It happens. Sue me."

"You're adorable," she said, looking into the mirror from her desk and applying eyeliner for her date with Jake. "Deep breaths, girl. Relax."

"Oh sure, relax. We're having sushi. Sushi! I don't even know what sushi looks like. How am I supposed to eat it like a normal person and talk to him and be fun and interesting all at the same time?"