My Side is Greener, Sis

Prologue to Chapter One

I let my eyes slowly roam over my friend’s clean khakis and green polo shirt; and his black, suave hair, which he had styled with French mousse. In the air hung a musky cologne scent, tickling my sensitive nose to no extent.

It was amusing and exciting, and slightly unnerving, to hear that Dan Mui, my once tearful and girlish friend, was going on his first real date.

Though I’ve tried signaling, hinting, e-mailing, writing notes, and yelling that his date is the epitome of pure evil and chaos, he simply refuses to listen to me. I have good reasons, for once.

His date is my twin sister, Erica, the hair-make-up-clothes-romance fanatic. I have no idea what he sees in her, I’d rather die than dating a girl like my sister. That is, if she and I weren’t, you know, related.

Dan bugged the crap out of me to find the perfect restaurant and the perfect movie to watch when the Devil, I mean my sister, asked him on a date. Psh, my own godforsaken sister asked my own best friend on a date!

That’s irony I tell you.

She has nerves of steel, I swear. I don’t know about you, but I’m more old-fashioned. I’d rather be the one that asks the girl, not vice versa. Well, unless the girl is incredibly, drop-dead gorgeous, funny, and nice…ahem, like I said, my friend has problems picking up girls.

My shy, baseball-obsessed friend has never dated, danced, or kissed a girl in his entire fifteen years of existence. Sorry, am I sounding a bit exasperated to you?

Well…not that I’ve had much experience with girls either. My rare experiences with girls are dancing with my sister’s friends or being forced to date my sister’s friend for two weeks. And if you think seeing sparkly flowered thongs is cool, you haven’t seen my friends’ scanty, sheer pj’s—they rock my world.

Back to the crisis at hand. Dan shuffled his feet, his normally laid-back chocolate brown eyes taking on the gleam of a paranoia victim; he made a soft grunt, signifying that it was my turn to say something. Anything.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t know you had a polo shirt.”

“Neither did I.”

“Where’d ya get it then? Santa Claus?”

“Mom.”

“Oh. Lemme guess, under your bed.”

“How’d you know?”

“What can I say, I’m psychic. Hey!”

“What?”

“You nervous?”

Finally, the tense awkwardness dissipated, as Dan’s lips broke into a big smile, and tackled me to the bed, “Damn, I thought you’d never ask!”

“Gah, sexual molestation! Stop it, Dan, you’re making me hard!”

Dan laughed lightly, punching me in the arm like old times. “Pervert.”

“It takes one to know one.” I replied and while resting my head on my arm, I turned my green eyes to him.

“Dan.”

“What?”

“Try not to screw my sister on the first date, okay?”

“Dan, only you would even think of doing that.”

I nodded in mock agreement, Dan and I always cracked dirty lines, since it always seemed to lighten the mood.

“Elliot, does Erica say anything about me…. to you?”

Oh shit, here we go again. A week before my sister declared to the whole universe that she loved Dan, she asked me at least a zillion questions on his love preferences, and other disgusting personal things that girls want to know.

I vaguely remember Erica asking me if Dan wore boxers or briefs and if he liked kissing with his eyes closed or open. I also vaguely remember replying, “Erica, are you writing a fucking book on Dan?”

Hehehehe, I still remember the look on her face when I said that. She stuck her nose in the air and said, “You are so lame, Elliot.” Oh wow, what a great comeback. I sometimes wonder if we’re really from the same gene pool, let alone the same universe.

Why am I always the eternal messenger of love? Hm, maybe I should get myself a girl.

I sighed and said monotonously, “If only I could shut her up from talking about you for one minute, I’d die today as a happy man.”

Dan leaned in closer, whispering, “C’mon, dude, what does she say about me?”

“She talks about your eyes, your hair, your hands, your feet, your nose, your muscles and abs….and the list just goes on and on and on.”

Dan slightly blushed, obviously pleased, “Stop talking shit, man. What does she really say about me?”

“No joke. She’s seriously that infatuated with you. Don’t you know she has a picture of your face on her wall?” Dan’s eyes bulged out, and I continued, “Do you know she talks to it at night? God, I can’t go to sleep without hearing her having oral sex with your picture!”

Just then, a knock came at my bedroom door, and the Devil’s voice sweetly called, “Hey, Dan! I’m ready to go to the movies!”

Dan said in an unusually husky voice, “Coming, Erica!” I swear, I could hear their hormone levels soar about fifty times higher.

Dan quickly checked my bedroom mirror, winked at me roguishly, and left my bedroom—leaving my bedroom door swinging.

I could hear his quick footsteps thundering down my stairs and I could feel his quickened heartbeats, as he approached my squealing man-eating sister. But as I continued watching the swinging door, I somehow felt really cold. Like all the life and energy in my bedroom had left with Dan. Even the friendly cologne seemed to fade away.

After what seemed like hours, I heard the car engine roar to life—and in the last second, I hurriedly dashed down the stairs and opened the front door, just in time to see Dan’s dusty red Toyota jeep leave my driveway.

Damn, friends sure do grow up fast, don’t they?

I continued standing at my doorway, until I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. It was my mom.

“Honey, you okay?”

All I could do was stare at her with blank eyes. What could I say to my mom? “I feel really left out, Mom, now that my best friend and evil sister are a twosome. I wish I could go follow them, but I’m just too damn stupid and proud.”

My mom simply smiled at my silence and said, “Why don’t we go the grocery store? That always seemed to help me sort my thoughts.”

I groaned loudly, as I banged my head on the door. Never, ever think that your mom understands you. Cause chances are, she’s trying to trick you to do chores.

I lowered my favorite baseball cap over my eyes, so I didn’t have to see my mom, with her spiked blonde hair, rainbow tie-dye t-shirt that said in the front “Moms are cool forever”, and tight pink capris. Somehow, she always found a way to embarrass me, even when we went grocery shopping.

My mom is a part-time nurse at a children’s nursery, and she’s also the chairperson for Mothers’ Love, a church program for moms with a freakish obsession with their kids.

Great, another boring afternoon with my Mom—just what I always wanted. I just hope I don’t see the guys at Wally’s World, or for that matter, anyone I know.

I leaned my head on the car window, watching the grass on the ground. For a fleeting moment, I remembered that really cliché saying, “The grass always seems greener on the other side.”

Hm, that saying really describes my feelings right now. Whilst I wither away under my mom’s nosy embrace, my sister and best friend are probably smooching in the dark room of AMC.

“Fasten your seat belts, sweetiekins. We don’t want any mean old policemen giving us a bad driving ticket, now do we?”

I don’t respond at all. If Mom thinks that she can push me around wherever she wants, she can just forget about it. I am not fastening my seatbelt, dammit!

“Pumpkin, do you want to go to Lizzie’s birthday party?”

“OH GOD, NO!” I roared, shuddering and foaming at the mouth at the very thought of her. Lizzie, the girl who tried to jump me at one of my sister’s sleepovers, haunts my nightmares to this day.

So, I did what any other guy would do.

I fastened my seatbelt. And I prayed feverishly.

AN: Sorry it ended in such a corny way. I’m trying to take a break from writing fantasy and try my hand at realistic fiction. The narrator of this story, is poor Elliot, whose twin sister has a major crush on his best friend.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this, since it’s loosely based on my school, friends, and guy friends. (No actual names, of course)

Summary of next chapter:

I almost choked when I saw Lizzie and her gum-chewing, brainless twits in the candy aisle. I quickly ducked behind a toilet paper pyramid, cursing my luck. If she saw me, all hell would break loose.

I turned my gaze over to my mom, and she was right where I left her, sifting through a mountain of coupons in the canned soup and fruit aisle.

Just when I was about to quietly sneak away into the cereal aisle, a familiar gruff voice yelled, “Yo, Elliot!”

I turned around, glaring at my mortal nemesis, Blake Ricotio. Ever since 5th grade, he and I have been competing against each other over girls, rock bands, grades, sports, and friends. At our high school, you’re either on my side, or on the losing Blake’s side.

And his new desirable buddy?

Dan Mui.