I scroll quickly through the pictures from dad to show Camille the picture that he sent me a little while ago. She’s breathing down my neck and stops me at a picture of Jared and I at an event. “Is that my dress?” she shrieks. I just shrug not really wanting to start this again.
“Have you seen my blue tank top?” Camille yells up the stairs at me. I yell back down a simple no even though I definitely had. I wore it to school that day. Immediately after school I put a sweatshirt on over it. I always get away with taking her clothes because she leaves for school before me and gets home after me because she has basketball practice. The only hard part is remembering to put them back or being able to do it sneakily which is hard when we share a room.
“Why are you wearing my dress?” she asks rather impatiently. I tell her I thought it was okay because she always just leaves it in her old closet and doesn’t even take it to school any more or wear it.
A few minutes later she calls my mom down sounding even more frustrated. I decide during dinner I will excuse myself and sneak downstairs to our room and put her tank top back. After I decide where I will put her tank top in a place where she would have missed seeing it but would believably a possibility of where she placed it, I get called by my mother. She does not sound happy at all. I make my slow decline down the stairs I quickly flip through the things that I could possibly be in trouble for. I walk into my room fully prepared to tell my mom how I didn’t do anything but I am interrupted by the state of my room. There are clothes everywhere, drawers are open, and Camille is nearly red with anger. My mom asks very measured “Simone, have you been wearing Camille’s clothes?” I stop to think about my answer very carefully to measure how much trouble would I get in, the possibility of me getting caught if I lied, and the amount of time my mom would add to my already two month grounding because of my high phone bill.
“If I didn’t want the dress anymore I would’ve told you.” I roll my eyes. She definitely doesn’t want it anymore. I am almost certain.
Before I can even answer Camille is already spitting at me “Don’t even try to lie! I know you have! I went through all your drawers and your closet! I even found some of my clothes under your bed!” I immediately abandon the lie I was constructing and complain to my mother how Camille completely and totally invaded my space. Camille continues to yell at me and I start to sweat. Not only because she is yelling at me and I know I am about to get in trouble but also because I’m hot from wearing the sweatshirt. Camille notices yells at me to lift up my sweatshirt so she can see what I am wearing. I refuse and my mom tries to calm Camille down. She promises she’ll leave the room to cool off after I show her what I am wearing. My mom tells me to pull up my sweatshirt. I start to cry because I know that I’ve been caught. I slowly pull up the sweatshirt to reveal the pretty,delicate, floral blue tank top that I had taken from Camille’s drawer that morning. She yells that she hates me and storms upstairs and claims she’s moving into my older brother’s empty room.
“God Simone, if you wanted the dress just ask. You can have it, it’s too short for me anyway.” I start to feel bad because I always seem to forget to ask.
I've done this to my sister so many times. Luckily she's at college now, but sometimes she see's pictures of me wearing her stuff and calls to yell at me from another state. Good description of what its like to have a sister and the struggle of stealing clothes.
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