Sloppy Firsts_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [12]
By the way, the Clueless Crew gave me a silver charm bracelet. A "16" dangles from one of the links. I guess the idea is that I’ll look down at my wrist and always remember this as the time of my life. That is, unless Brandi was right and I slit it first.
I’m kidding …
Long Duck Dongly Yours, J.
february
the fifth
If Bethany had gone to high school with me, I would’ve hated her, and to her, I would’ve been the dweeby sibling she was too cool to acknowledge in the halls. Thus, our eleven-year age gap is a blessing.
I spent the whole day at the dress shop trying on this satin monstrosity for her wedding. Brides are evil. They are so hell-bent on looking better than everyone else that they pick out bridesmaids’ dresses that no one could possibly look good in. The one I have to wear is yellow ("Maize!" as my sister and mother corrected me at least a bizillion times), strapless, and straight to the floor. I look like a banana in it. Bridesmaid bonus: Once the alterations are done, I’ll have enough leftover material from the bust to make not only a matching handbag, but a whole set of luggage!
So I’m standing in the shop in all my Chiquita splendor when Bethany starts telling me that she doesn’t want me to get my hair cut before the wedding because she wants it to be long enough to put up in some elaborate whoop-de ’do.
"But I never wear my hair up," I protested.
"You will for the wedding," Bethany said.
"But I don’t look good with my hair up."
"Well, that’s too bad because all the bridesmaids are wearing their hair up."
"Why do we all have to wear our hair the same way?"
She sighed heavily. "Because it will look better in the pictures."
"But why do we all have to look the same to look good?"
At this point she did the sigh-and-eye-rolling double whammy.
"Mother?!"
So my mom intervened.
"When it’s your big day you can tell your bridesmaids to wear their hair however you want. But since it’s not, listen to your sister."
I said that considering I couldn’t even get a date to the wedding, I doubted I’d be planning my own any time soon. Bad move on my part.
That’s when my mom and Bethany tag teamed me about Scotty—how I’m so stupid not to invite him to the wedding because he’s good-looking and sweet, and how I’m really going to regret it when he gets another girlfriend. Then they stopped talking at me and started talking about me like I wasn’t even there.
"I don’t understand her, Bethie. Your sister would rather mope away her teenage years than go out with such a catch."
"She likes to wallow, Mother. She needs to lighten up."
"You know what she really needs?"
"What, Mother?"
"She needs a little perspective."
"Yes, she does."
"I mean, when the worst thing in your life is trying to decide whether you should take a cute football player to your sister’s wedding …"
I realized long ago that my mom and Bethany have a blonde bond that I can’t bust into. I’m better off not even bothering to try.
"Jesus Christ! The wedding is four months away," I screeched. "Did you ever think that I might get a real boyfriend before then?"
Their identical icy-blue glares told me that they hadn’t.
The ancient woman doing the alterations kept right on pulling and pinning the fabric around my body. I bet she’s heard far worse in this dressing room: a bride in for her first fitting, tearfully confessing that she’s pregnant with the best man’s baby; bitchy bridesmaids betting how long it will be before the divorce; a mother-of-the-groom who suspects her son may be gay.
Am I the only creature with a vagina who thinks that weddings are ridiculous? I’m going to elope. Just me, my hubby, and a minister on a beach in Jamaica. That’s better than Bethany asking a church full of people to pretend that she’s a virgin and having my father "give her away" like she’s a garbage bag of Goodwill clothes. As the Maid of Dubious