Feel The Sun On Your Face, and the Sand In Your Toes

“Yeah I know mom!” Just cut me some slack would ya? Everything’s still packed and I don’t like it when people rush me!!”

I let out a huff then continue throwing clothes out of boxes.

“Where are ma dang pants?!?! Can’t a man just have some peace about knowing where his pants are?!?!!!”

I sit down in defeat then cross my arms.

“River you’re such a big baby. They’re right here if you cooled off and
took a chill pill. Oh and you're not a man.”

I scowl. Riley hands me by black pants. I absolutely HATED dressing up. Okay so hates a strong word. Let me rephrase that, I absolutely DESPISE dressing up. It made me feel all formal and what not. I like my jeans to be skinny or baggy not itchy and uncomfortable. And don’t even get me STARTED on dress SHOES. I like my Nike’s, Vans, and Supra’s. But other than that, you can FORGET ABOUT IT.

“But Riley, I don’t wanna get all dressed up. You KNOW I HATE IT!”

Riley rolls her eyes and starts rummaging through my boxes of dress shirts. I cringe at the word BOXES especially since I have an utter distaste for them, I can’t believe I have BOXES. I can hardly stand one BOX. She pulls out a dark navy blue button up and a skinny white tie. Ugh. Kill me now.

“Put these on. And if you even THINK about changing into something else than what I’ve picked out for you, let’s just say your wardrobe will become extremely unpleasant to put on.”

I knew that look. She was serious. She scares me sometimes. Help. I throw on an undershirt and then put my shirt on. I button it up and put my tie on. And no it’s not one of those cheap crappy snap-on’s. I slip on my pants and then look for the belt she picked out. Ugh. White? Next time I’m dressing myself. I put on my black Steve Madden dress shoes and grab my coat. I look like I’m going to Prom or something when it’s just a stupid ‘Welcome to town dinner party.’ It’s not like anyone cares anyways. They just want to get a good look at me. After, I’ve been labeled the ‘mysteriously handsome bad boy that has a secret’. Ugh. Dang it.

“Mom, do I REALLY have to go? It’s not like anybody really even cares!”

“Riley Elan Hemington, I’m not even going to answer that question! Now go tell your sister to shake a leg!”

Ugh. Who even says ‘shake a leg’ anymore?? It’s like from the dinosaur era man. I walk down the hall to Riley’s room and rap on the door.

“Come In!”

I am NOT in the best mood right now. They better have good food or I’ll be pissed. I open the door to see Riley in some skimpy dark blue sequined dress with a skinny white tie around her neck and really high white high-heels. Her hair was curled perfectly, (I can’t believe I just said that,) and her nails were all sparkly to match her dress, (that either).

“Hell no.”
She looks up at me from her makeup desk astonished.

“I beg your pardon?”

“HELL no. Should I spell it out for you?? H-E-double hockey sticks NO. You’re my little sister, I’m not letting you leave the house like that.”

Riley rolls her eyes then puts the finishing touches on her make up.

“River, one you’re a minute and a half older than me, two you’re not my Dad so you can’t tell me what to wear and what not to wear, and three at least my shirt isn’t hugging my body to show off how well toned I am.”

I look down at my shirt. Well, it was pretty tight, but not as tight as she said it was. I sighed knowing she was right about all three. Dang it. I hate when she’s right. But I never tell her so I’m good. Except for this time.

“You’re right. You look beautiful. Dad would be very proud.”

She smiles, sniffles a bit then shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts.

“Thanks Ri. So do you. Well not beautiful, handsome I should say.”

I blush. LAME.

“Yeah, yeah let’s go shall we? We don’t want to be late for our own dinner party.”

We both laugh. Ya know, having a sister, especially a twin sister, wasn’t that bad all of the time. I actually quite enjoy it.