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Margo Catalina
chapter two- red white and puke
Ma makes me wear a white dress. Because you cannot wear white after labor day, and it was labor day.
I didn't know why it had to be a dress, I still had to work with an unpredictable nine year old.
Char was always covered in glitter, or sticky boba hands that girl ran off of boba, that girl loved boba.
"It's gonna get dirty." I moan, as she tugs at my hair, curling it for me.
I didn't know what the big occasion was, it was just some dumb american bbq. I'd much rather ma's cooking. My stomach grumbles at the thought.
"It's not going to get dirty, because you better not get it dirty." She warns, finishing my hair with a red ribbon. So festive and so gross.
Deep down I didn't care if my dress got dirty. I cared that there would be kids from my school attending dressed like normal people and i'd be dressed like Ms. Freaking America.
And deep down Ma didn't give a shit about labor day, but she wanted to fit in and and be popular and build clientele.
I get it, and her doing my hair and makeup was a way to promote her work, but it was like I was a personal doll sometimes. Familia first always.
I rise to my feet, surrendering. At least I was pretty. I finish with a pair of worn Birkenstocks. Because my toes are pink and it's one of the last warm days for a while.
Back in Arizona my toes were out all year round. Then it was just, Shayna, Ryle and I and we were inseparable. Days were hot and I had a constant tan.
I've had a tan my whole entire life, i've known nothing else. I'm scared my family will go pale. I don't think i'd survive winter.
"Does Jill need to come over and help?"
I roll my eyes, J isn't in a damn dress. She's in a jean skirt, white blouse and red converse with two red hair bows. Like a normal regular teen, I want to punch her.
It's not her fault. I have perfect child syndrome. I'm the eldest, the poster child, if someone ought to wear a dress it's gonna be me.
I always did the pageants, the talent shows and science fairs. Always teacher's favorite, always good grades, of course I had to wear the dress.
It was a pretty piece of fabric. It was modest, not short, sat right above my knees and covered my chest. It still showed my figure though and maybe it was growing on me.
