The Flipside of Perfect by Liz Reinhardt

Author:Liz Reinhardt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkyard Press
Published: 2021-01-18T21:10:38+00:00

14

Airport Pickup: Marnie

July

FLORIDA

“Marnie! Marnie!” I wave my arms over my head like the people who help guide the planes on the runway.

Marnie whips around and stares at me, her head tilted over to one side, like a ruffled cardinal surveying something new and bewildering. She lets go of her bag and pulls her mouth into a tight line, knits her eyebrows, squints. It’s like she’s using all of her deductive skills to make sense of what’s right in front of her eyes.

Jude steps forward to help out. “Marnie? Marnie Jepsen?”

His voice is the trigger that breaks the spell. Marnie blinks at him, waking up. “I’m Marnie.” She holds a hand out and Jude shakes it.

“Jude. I’m a friend of Dell—a friend of AJ’s,” he corrects.

If I was stripped completely naked in the middle of this busy airport, I’d feel less exposed than I do right now, standing in front of my speechless sister like an imposter.

“AJ.” She reaches her hand out and touches the end of my bob. “You cut your hair.” Her fingers glide along the blunt edges and close over the back pieces, the bright pink ones. She rubs my hair between her fingers gently. “Your hair...it’s pink.”

“Just some of it,” I say.

“Did you contour? You know how to contour?” She presses her face too close to mine. “Are those fake lashes? Are you wearing leggings in public? Mom would disown you! Leggings Are Not Pants would be, like, the motto on our family crest. If we had one.” She rocks back on her heels and stares at me. “Who the hell are you?”

Jude clears his throat. “It’s, uh, just some makeup—”

Marnie throws up a warning hand. “Shut your trap, hottie. This is sister business,” she says, never looking at him. Marnie just stares. Straight. At. Me. “Mom will be pissed. So pissed. And disappointed.”

“I never let her see me like this,” I tell her.

I watch it dawn on her that this isn’t a new rebellion. “You’re really tan.”

I nod.

“Sun or self-tanner?”

“A little bit of both.” She raises her blond eyebrows. “Maybe more than just a little sun,” I amend. “And a lot of bronzer.”

“I didn’t think you even liked the sun.” She stares at my leggings. “Those are neon. I’ve never seen you wear neon. You look kind of tacky. You look...slutty.”

“Hey,” Jude says lowly, but Marnie lets out a growl that informs him she’s the alpha in this exchange.

“I know,” I say, and I get what Jude doesn’t: Marnie isn’t seeing clothes and hair, she’s seeing choices. Expression. She’s seeing me defying our mother’s sacred rules about how we present ourselves and what we value. I’m flaunting them.

So is my sister.

The difference is that Marnie did it bravely, to our mother’s face. She stares down the disapproval and weathers the judgment and fights like the badass she is. I play dress-up like a little kid and wash it all off before anyone can scold me for it.

I was wrong to tell Jude I was a liar like that was the worst thing about me.

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