"Oh, Chloe . . ." Maggie said in a loving voice, which I knew was fake. "Sweet, naive," she dropped her nice girl act. "LIPGLOSS-STEALING, Chloe!!"
"What?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"Oh, come on!" Maggie snapped. "Don't try to act so innocent! I know you took my bubbly bubble gummy gum lip gloss!"
"Wait a minute . . ." I kept my eyes locked on my sister's. "Dad forbid me to see Michael, because YOU told him a lie about the Thompson's so he would do just that, all because I borrowed your stupid lip gloss?"
Maggie just kept looking at me for a while. Then she finally spoke.
"Yup." she said with a huge smile on her face. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you take my bubbly bubble gummy gum!"
I stared at my sister with wide eyes. It amazed me how conceited she was. I was finding it hard to believe Maggie was older than me, considering how immature she was acting. I mean, I take her lip gloss, and she takes my best friend away? Yeah, that seemed fair. That's not harsh at all.
"Why are you looking at me like I'm insane?" Maggie asked. "You're the kleptomaniac here!"
I rolled my eyes.
"Okay, look. I don't know what you told Dad, but I want you to go downstairs right now and tell him that it's not true, because we both know it's not." I said, while pointing at the door.
"Hmm . . . " Maggie acted like she was thinking, but I knew she wasn't. (I mean, in order to think, don't you have to have a brain? Oh! BURN!! Anyway, back to the dialogue . . .) "Nah, I don't really feel like it." she replied.
"Fine, then I'll just tell him myself."
I turned towards the door and started walking.
"Oh, I don't think you wanna do that, Chloe." Maggie said to me before I left the room.
"Why not?" I asked, turning around.
All these games my sister was playing were getting really annoying.
"Because I'll tell him your little secret."
"What little secret?" I asked. I was afraid of what might follow.
"Oh, I don't know . . ." Maggie looked around the room. "Just that you were lip-locking with Michael Thompson!"
I felt my stomach drop.
"I was not!" I whisper yelled at my sister.
"Were too . . ." she sung.
"Oh yeah? Prove it." I said, confident that she couldn't prove anything.
Maggie grabbed her cell phone off her nightstand and went to her pictures. She shoved the teeny monitor right in front of my eyes. Sure enough, there it was: a picture of Michael kissing me in my front yard taken right from Maggie's bedroom window. I knew I was done for.
"Still thinking about telling Dad what I liar I am?" she asked. "I'm sure he'll overlook a little fib I told when he sees what you've been up to."
I stood there, in my sister's room, both mortified and humiliated while she just smiled at me. I wanted to go up to her and smack that stupid grin right off her face, but I held myself back. Instead, I silently dismissed myself from Maggie's room and headed for mine. When I got inside, I gently closed the door behind me. Then I laid on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I felt a tear roll down my cheek, followed by about twenty more.
Suddenly, my phone rang. It was a text message. I reached into my pocket and opened my text, which was from . . . Michael! My eyes moved over the words faster than my brain could process them. I slowed down, and read.
Hey! I never said what time I would pick u up. The dance starts @ 7:30. Pick u up @ 7?
I thought about how I might manage to go to the dance with Michael without my dad or Maggie finding out. I got an idea. I had no clue if it would work, but it was worth a shot. If it failed, well, goodbye to my life as I knew it. I started typing and replied.
Sounds good.
My phone rang again. I opened the new text.
Okay. See u then.
I answered back.
Can't wait!
I looked around my bed for the Magic 8 Ball. Once I found it, I shook it with all my might and asked it a new question.
"Magic 8 Ball, will my plan work?" I asked.
I looked at the circular bottom until the dice settled.
"Cannot predict now." I read to myself.
I spent the whole night praying that all would go well. Then I decided to hit the hay. I had a long day of school ahead of me.
