“Hold on, give me a sec. Just gotta…” I pulled up my crop top for the 70th time.
“Ugh, it’s always too high or too low; that’s the point!” Melissa stomped her foot. “Come on, come on, come on!”
“Don’t rush me, dork,” I stood back up, stomping my foot back into the too-big boot. “Will they even let me have a purse?” My sister just looked at me like I was stupid. “Duh, it’s under the size limits.” She pointed at the sign on the wall, and sure enough, next to the no water bottle sign it read ‘clutch purse no larger than 4.5 by 6.5.’ Melissa reached out and grabbed my hand aggressively; the teenage girl was on a mission to get to the general admission area early, and her annoying brother wasn’t going to stop her. “I literally didn’t put you in heels because I wanted you moving fast, move it!” I was tugged along, purse dangling off my shoulder through a sea of girls ready to see their queen.
We rushed onto the floor and found ourselves a spot. My sister began adjusting her makeup using her phone. “You know nobody’s going to see you,” I poked. Her face didn’t move a muscle. “I could be on the documentary or posted on her story. Plus, what about my own pictures, you really don’t think, do you?” She retorted plainly. “Why do you think I made you all pretty & girly, you think they’d put your gross face in a movie?” She didn’t skip a beat while fixing her makeup.
“Fuck me for being your chaperone, right? Can’t believe I thought this would go normally, it never does with you,” I pulled up my top to stop my boobs from spilling out, revealing way too much of my toned midriff. I had already given up on the skirt, that was a whole other nightmare to deal with.
