Page 45 of My Best Friend's Sister

T W E N T Y F I V E

- Madeline -

I could barely keep my eyes open as I studied the binder full of potential layouts for BELLE’s June issue. It wasn’t official homework or anything, since Crecia would never ask my opinion about any of it. Plus, if she did, it was “Addy’s” opinion she’d ask for. Still, it was obvious from the short chat I had with Jin during our two-minute lunch break that she’d managed to memorize every goddamn headline and featured designer, and I was not going to be shown up by someone who wore textured scrunchies.

Not that I didn’t like Jin’s style. I’d spent enough time with her at this point that I could almost tell when she was being ironic. What I didn’t like was the fact she made me feel slow and inadequate. Interning alongside her was a lot like sweating buckets on a treadmill only to glance over and see some perky-ponytailed goddess jogging in slow motion, a glistening sheen on her cheekbones above a perfect smile that says, “don’t my tits bounce great in this sports bra?”

Like, seriously, break a goddamn sweat once in a while, would you? You’re making everyone look bad. Ugh. Maybe that wasn’t a great analogy since the boob department was the only one where I left Jin in the dust, but even that wasn’t a bonus in the fashion industry, where the ability to go braless or reveal ribs was practically a super power.

Meanwhile, the nicest thing anyone said to me all week came from a visiting photographer who told me I’d be a great hand model when I gave him his subsequently “undrinkable” foamy latte. Not that I needed compliments or encouragement to get through the day. But so far, my greatest source of pride on the job came from the fact that I hadn’t cried at work, which didn’t exactly make me feel like boss babe of the year.

Yes, I was learning a lot. Not as much as Jin, apparently, but more than I expected. Yet I still had all the same shortcomings I’d always had. I knew it was foolish to think that chasing my dream was going to change me overnight. Saying yes to the universe didn’t make bold-dust and confidence juju rain from the sky on cue. But still. Hustling was hard, and the fact that my efforts didn’t seem to be impressing anyone was making me feel completely delusional.

Needless to say, when the bleeps of an incoming Skype call interrupted my unproductive train of thought, I was grateful for the disruption. Even better, it wasn’t my mom. Not that I didn’t love hearing from her, but I was under a lot of stress right now, and being reminded that she was all alone in her small townhouse in Skokie was depressing.

She thought it would be a nice balance between living in the city and being close to her friends who still lived in the burbs, but the truth was her new neighborhood provided neither the perks of suburban life nor the buzz of being downtown. If anything, it seemed a cruel punishment for someone who was guilty of nothing more than actually honoring her fucking wedding vows.

Anyway, I cast the binder (and worries about my mom) to one side and slid into James’s cushy desk chair to answer the video call. For a few seconds, all I could see was a pixelated version of his face, but when my brother came into view, it felt like someone had attached an oversized helium balloon to my heart.

“Hi!” I said, waving at the screen.

“How’s my favorite little sister?!”

My nose scrunched for a second, since I hated when he said that. I knew he was trying to be sweet, but the phrase only served to remind me that he sort of did have another younger sister, one who—thanks to my dad—was no longer my best friend. “Fine! How are you? How’s London?” I squinted at the clock on my laptop screen and added seven hours in my head. “Why are you up so late?”

He leaned back against a plain wall so all I could see was the blue pillow shoved behind him. “That’s not interesting,” he said. “Tell me how things are going with you? How’s your internship?”

“Let’s see…” I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling before looking back at him. “Remember that day we went to Six Flags and went on every ride six times because there were no lines, and Maeve finished everyone’s funnel cakes and then puked on the Viper?”

The handsome lines around his eyes deepened. “How could I forget? That was the best day ever.”

I smiled, wishing he were here. Wishing I could be honest and tell him I needed a “squeezy hug.” It was an inside joke between us. I’m not even sure how it started. I think it was after I had a bad day at school once. I told him I wished I could wring the icky feelings out of me, and he said he could do it.

He said if he hugged me hard enough, they’d squeeze out my ears and float away. I don’t know if it was because of his confidence or because I believed everything he told me for the first fourteen years of my life, but I let him try it. And it helped.

Logically, I knew it was ridiculous. But sometimes, when I was really sad, the only way I could get a moment’s relief would be if he hugged me too hard. I never even had to ask. All I had to do was make puppy dog eyes and stand with my arms really straight so he’d know I was ready to brace myself. Then he’d squeeze me till the air left my lungs and my mind went blank. Sort of like a reset button I only trusted him to press.

I used to think liking that sensation made me some kind of freak, but then I found out people all over the country were buying weighted blankets so they could get the same feeling on demand. The thought crossed my mind that one of those might make a good birthday present for my mom, and I was wondering how expensive they were when I realized James was trying to get my attention. “Sorry,” I said. “Zoned out there for a second.”

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I literally said Earth to Maddy forty times.”

“Good thing you didn’t stop at thirty-nine.”

He cocked his head. “Are you saying your job is like a roller coaster?”

“I wish. It’s more like puking in public when gravity isn’t on your side.”

His face twisted like he was looking at me through a funhouse mirror. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I’m learning a lot about myself, and it’s an uncomfortable experience.”

“You know you can walk out of an internship at any time, right?”

I glanced over my shoulder dramatically before angling back towards him. “You must have me confused with someone else because the Maddy that swallowed her pride to squat in her brother’s apartment is not the kind of girl that throws in the towel.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, visibly relieved to see I wasn’t wallowing. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought this London gig would be easier than it’s turned out to be.”

Concern wrinkled my brow. “Really?”

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