And no Jenna ensemble would be complete without a pair of the wild (sometimes ginormous) earrings we all know and love; todays selection – giant silver hoops large enough to be bracelets.
“I’m sorry you guys, but not everyone can pull off this look. I kind of look like a… giant ho-bag.”
“Says the girl who lives in yoga pants…” Molly mutters under her breath - I’m shocked she manages not to roll her eyes.
“I heard that,” I say with a sigh. “Besides, you know I wear jeans most days, so kiss my butt - and stop trying to get a rise out of me.”
“Fine – let’s vote on whether or not you can change your outfit,” Jenna says.
“You just said I could put on something boring if I wanted to! And I want to!” I shout, throwing my arms up in frustration.
“Not so fast – this is a committee, and as such, we must vote on anything affecting the common good of the group. Majority rules, sorry.”
“But a tank top and a mini skirt in November…? Seriously you guys, this is bad.”
“This is nowhere near as bad as of the outfits she’s made me wear. You’re getting off easy.” Molly objects calmly, studying her fingernails intently. “Besides, it isn’t about what you want.”
“That is so rude. I feel like I’m being held against my will in a very whorish outfit.” I glare at Jenna and cross my arms in a huff, pouting. “If Abby was here, she’d let me change.” And she’d probably let me wear a turtleneck, too, but I keep that gripe to myself.
“Well she’s not- so deal with it.”
I stand quietly for a few moments, wracking my brain for an out and then try again. “If I can take this off, I will keep on the next outfit you guys pick out for me. I promise.”
Jenna and Molly exchange conspiratory glances, then put their heads together in a small huddle, whispering and gesturing frantically. Moments later, their heads pop up.
“Okay. Agreed. Give us a minute to plan this next look.”
“Um… can I make a suggestion?”
Jenna’s mouth, covered in frosty pink lipstick, falls open. “Are you serious? After this concession you want to make a suggestion? No. Get your butt in the kitchen while we look through the closet again.”
Jeez, Jenna is so rude. How has Molly put up with her all these years?
Matthew
“She’s what?!” I shout.
“You heard me.” My sister says calmly, her legs crossed at my dining room table. “I didn’t stutter.”
“Yeah, I heard you.” My tone is low and sarcastic. “But I want you to repeat yourself anyway, just in case I misunderstood.”
Molly looks up from the magazine she has her nose stuck in and looks me straight in the eye. “Cece. Is. On. A. Date. With. Neve. Can I go back to reading my Cosmo now? Sheesh.”
“Where the fuck did he take her?”
“Tsk, tsk. Language.”
“Molly, I swear if you don’t tell me…”
“Puh-lease – like I’m going to tell you. You’ve already ruined one of her dates with him, I’m not going to let you ruin another. Besides, I don’t take kindly to threats.”
I swear on all that is holy she does this shit just to piss me off. “Did you come here just so you could drop this bomb on me?”
Molly shrugs, barely managing to suppress a grin. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You’re going to sit here, at my table, eating my food, and say that shit to me? You’re my sister.” Her hand, hovering over a container of orange Sweet ‘n’ Sour sauce, holds a warm Crab Rangoon from the Chinese restaurant down the block from my house. She blinks at me, a guilty expression passing over her features so quickly I would have missed it had I not been studying the little traitor’s face.
I shake my head sadly. “My own family.”
“Oh gawd Matthew. You make it sound like we’re the mob.”
“I wish. ‘Cause then I’d bury you in concrete and no one would think twice about hunting down your dead, lifeless body.”
“So rude. You almost hurt my feelings.” She dips her Rangoon and licks some sauce off. “Almost. Not quite.”
“No double dipping,” I grumble like a sullen child.
Molly stabs her Rangoon back into the sauce out of spite, licking her fingers clean when she dunks too far in. “How about you worry about something else, hmm?”
“Something like, oh, I don’t know – your betrayal?”
Molly sits up straight and snaps the fingers on her clean hand. “Oh I get it! You’re going to blame me for this, hey? Typical.” She stuffs part of an egg roll in her mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing. “Remember that time you tried to make me do your science fair project, and then got pissed at me when you didn’t win a ribbon?”
“Excuse me - you said you would help.”
My sister laughs, throwing her head back. “Operative word being help – you wanted me to do the whole dang thing. Besides, I was like, what - in third grade? What the heck did I know about diagramming combustible atoms? Jack squat, that’s what.”