Being the Ugly Sister

"I NEED TO LOOK PRETTY!" wailed Rosa. Just to clarify: Rosa is my
sister, three years old. The youngest, the baby despite having been out
of diapers from a year and a bit, and a right little whiner. Mum goes
to fuss over her now. "You are pretty, honey." Mum's attempt at getting
Rosa to shut up is pathetic, but I can relate. Rosa is the only bitch
in our family with any hope of being beautiful. She's inherited Dad's
good skin, Mum's big eyes and someone else's glossy hair. Aren't three
year olds meant to be playing dolly? Not Rosa. Idiot son-of-a-bi-
"Callie hurry UP!" Mum has chosen to distract herself from the torments
of dealing with Rosa by yelling at me. I am ready to get in the car, I
have my earphones already hanging by my side and spare batteries in my
palm so that I can block out the noises of my family and am excused
from the car games that Dad loves to play. I humour her and yell down,
"Coming!" I pause to wonder why she didn't shriek at Daniel. Then I
remember that Daniel is currently more arrogant than Rosa and will
probably be doing his hair for the three-hundredth time, and would give
Mum back chat, worse than Rosa's whining. It is hard being the perfect
one. Daniel is the oldest. He goes by Dan, the D, and other macho
nicknames that don't suit him. He's fourteen and is a runt - but he
possesses this flinty self-confidence that protects him from any
insult. He has pimples all over his face, and I'm pretty sure he wears
concealer. MY concealer. And then there is me. I'm thirteen - and I'm
not beautiful either, in case you're wondering. I've got Dad's
frizzball hair and an attitude to match. I don't do gel or foam or
straightners. So I just braid it and hope for the best. I've got thin
limbs but a fat face and a large arse. I have no problems saying I'm
ugly because there's Rosa. Yes, after ten years there was Rosa. She's
pretty. I hope it passes with time. She keeps whining about the need to
be pretty and I'm sure that Mum is thinking, "Oh hell, I thought it was
just Daniel who was obsessed by looks!" And I'm sure Dad is thinking,
"Such a good thing I'm busy with work." Right now I have me own
problems without Daniel calling every girl he passes 'Babe' and nearly
getting slapped by the girls ("Feisty, huh?" says Daniel, having
dodged, "I like it!") and beaten up by their boyfriends or indeed
girlfriends ("I knew it was too good to be true, baby. But don't you
worry - the D will get you out, you just wait and see.") and without
Mum getting stressed, Dad cleverly absenting himself from family
occasions and Rosa's preening. I've got ... a crush. I swore it would
never happen to me when I was three, Rosa's age (she swears she has a
boyfriend - but it just transpired to be the next door neighbour's cat)
but it has - his name is Henry. That's all I'll say. I've let me hair
fall over my face when he passes. It isn't like in the movies where the
woman goes all sexy. Number one I have a fear that he'll realise that I
like him and it will humiliate me, and number two is that I really like
him but I don't know how to tell him. The two instincts battle against
each other. My hair is a shield against blushing. I'm terrible. Dad is
the king of cool but Mum is a flusher, just like me. Dan doesn't blush
and neither does Rosa. Dan is self-composed and reckons he is
wonderful, and Rosa thinks she is beautiful and confident and
annoyingly, she is. This will pass. I hope and pray and dream of my
younger sister to be ugly. Shit, I sound like an ugly sister. I am an
ugly sister, so therefore my point is still valid, and still stands.
"We're getting in the car now," says Dad in his monotonous voice. Dan
casually walks downstairs. I have plonked myself firmly in the
backseat. Rosa takes the middle. This will be fun. Dan leans over and
prods me. I prod him back. I'm too...self-conscious to do anything
more. Rosa prods me. I prod her. "Mommaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Callie poked
me!" The day in the life of the ugly sister.