One- Elena

“27” Sydney groans from behind me where she’s resting her arms on her legs and her head dropped between them. “27 times you opened that damn website since I was here," she says, slamming the computer I had opened with dozens of Roman Russo articles. I cringe rolling onto my back where I'm perched atop the bed. “What can I say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer”.  

 She rolls her eyes at me before getting up and throwing my closet open, “I could work with this” she mumbles. I narrow my eyes at her “And what do you think you're doing ?”I ask genuinely confused.

“Finding you an outfit,” she says, sparing a glance over her shoulder. “Why?” I ask, sounding as appalled as I feel. “Because. '' She responds as if that answers my question while continuing to rummage through my closet occasionally throwing a sweater or two over her shoulder.

“Because what exactly” I ask. “Look,” she says, finally turning around clutching a red dress. “You've been locking yourself up in this room since he came back to town, the only place you go to is to the library and then straight back here” She comes and sits down next to me, “ I understand he hurt you but he didn't break you babe and by sitting here all your doing is letting him win he wants you to be embarrassed and hide away, but if you go out with me tonight we can forget about him and may even find you someone else to take home” she adds with a slight smile and wink. As if my father would ever let me bring someone back here.

I sit up and stare at the dress she's holding, the one I was supposed to wear to my 18th birthday party which I never got the chance to. “Fine, but only because this dress deserves a proper going away party,” I say with a smile while standing up and looking at my best friend.

Sydney Carpenter we met when I sat on melted chocolate in the third grade and while everyone else pointed fingers and laughed at me she helped me clean the chocolate off and even licked her finger clean to prove it was indeed chocolate. We've been friends ever since, where I can be more introverted and quiet. She is everything but that, loud and outgoing Sydney is my best friend, and like a sister I never had I don't know where i would be without her. She helped me conquer my demons and brought out the true me everyone knows today. I owe her everything and I could never repay her if I tried. 

A boom hits the wall and we know Casper has arrived.

My brother and protector, no matter how many comments I make about his size I look up to him. He took on a parental role for me when our mother died from cancer and my father decided then was a perfect time to take a worldwide trip he has yet to return from.

Sometimes I fantasize about what my life could have been like if both of my parents were here. If my mother could have gotten chemo maybe she would've had more time, maybe she could have been here, survived. The nights I cried she would have rubbed soothing circles on my back like she used to when I was younger, fix me some lemon tea while explaining to me that everything happens for a reason but if that was the case why did I take my mother, how could it–

“That doesn't even make any sense !” Cas yells drawing me from my thoughts. “How doesn't it make any sense, it has a SEED,” Sydney says “S-E-E-D makes it a fruit not a vegetable so it is not your ‘ famous vegetable soup’ if it has tomatoes in it”. My brother glares at her as if holding back a very nasty reply and instead looks at me and says “as I was saying SISTER”  he says glancing back at Sydney very pointedly in which in return she rolls her eyes and pops her gum. “Would you like some of my famous soup ?”. 

“No thank you, I was just getting ready to go out so if you two will excuse me I would like to get dressed.” 

They both glance at me making no attempt to move so I start pushing them out the door, “HEY” they collectively yell before I finally get them both out and shut the door. “I changed your diapers'' my brother's muffled voice comes through the door, “Me too” Sydney shouts, “No you didn't” I hear my brother say, his voice sounding farther away as if they finally took a hint and started to walk away.

I lean back against the door and glance at the dress I'm clutching so tightly to my chest, “I hate him,” I whisper to nobody, and walk to the bathroom to prove exactly that.