and I can offer some pointers about life experiences?" I suggested, my confidence regarding the idea growing stronger as each word spilled out.
Cassie clasped her hands in delight. "Yeah, that'd be great! There is so much that I can teach you about la langue d'amour -" I asked Cassie to repeat the phrase twice before comprehension overcame my initial confusion - "- and you'll fill me in about whatever I want to know."
"Then you have a deal," I agreed, shaking Cassie's hand in a formal, business-like manner. Negotiating deals with siblings was a piece of cake compared to pleading to high-nosed, ignorant teachers for a pass in French at school, whose bitter expressions on their wrinkly, sun-aged faces reminded me of sour lemons.
"Sadie," Cassie breathed, leaping from her pile of Pink Panther cushions to sit closer to me, "did I ever tell you how much you meant to me?"
I sat up, shrugging myself out my previous sluggish position, and pretended to think. "Hmm, I can't exactly remember when you last said that to me - maybe when I was eight?" I wondered, a playful twinkle visible in the corner of my midnight blue eyes.
"No, no, no," Cassie giggled, covering her smirking mouth, "I'm sure I've said a thousand times since then."
"Really? I've lost count."
"Like duh? Which sibling wouldn't let their elder sister know how much they love them?"
Had I been blind or what from the moment Cassie arrived home from the hospital, a little bundle of joy, her constant shrieks forcing me to cover my hands over my near-deaf ears, yet having the amazing ability to make the cutest laughs, whilst wrapped in a carnation-pink blanket? In the midst of our petty arguments and minor spats, I'd never taken the time to appreciate the fact that Cassie cared about me and deserved to win the 'Best Little Sister' award every time.
And I desperately wanted her to know that I cared, too.
Without any warning, I playfully grabbed Cassie's cherry blossom-pink t-shirt, encouraging her to giggle as though she was being manically ticked on her feet, and for a few joyful minutes, we forgot that we were fifteen and thirteen years old - we didn't care about whether we weren't behaving like drop-dead cool teenagers or acting superiorly. As far as I dared to imagine, we gone ten years back in time and were fun-loving five and three year olds again. It had taken me ages to realise that I still longed for enjoy playtime - an aspect of my innocent childhood that had disappeared long ago.
After tiring ourselves out to an extent that we could play no more, Cassie and I lied down on the soft mocha chocolate carpet, staring at the star-decorated ceiling, which Dad had painted around nine years ago.
"Do you still want to get rid of the stars?" I asked, an uncovered softness breaking through in my tone.
Cassie turned her locked gaze from the moon bright stars to me and answered, "Maybe, I don't know. I've had it for so long that... it would seem weird if I didn't have it."
"Keep it then," I advised. "Stars are cool, whatever your age."
Then we looked back at the ceiling, which strongly reminded me of that perfect, mind-blowing night with Joel. A lot of pain was still lying ahead - I'd have to open up to Joel about how made me feel, the good and definitely the super-bad - but the ache which should've hit me like an angst-filled punch left me numb, as if I was invincible to its feeling.
However, I stored those thoughts into a large, locked cardboard box at the back of my mind, and mentally returned to the wonderful moment I was sharing with my sister. Her tiny, slender fingers curled into mine, whose vast length reminded me of a gentle giant; as of yet, I would remain as the family 'supermodel', a nickname that Dad had light-heartedly suggested.
"Cassie?"
"Yeah?" Her voice groggy and drowsy, Cassie sounded as though she was halfway into a deep, nourishing sleep.
"I love you," I said, my entire
Cassie clasped her hands in delight. "Yeah, that'd be great! There is so much that I can teach you about la langue d'amour -" I asked Cassie to repeat the phrase twice before comprehension overcame my initial confusion - "- and you'll fill me in about whatever I want to know."
"Then you have a deal," I agreed, shaking Cassie's hand in a formal, business-like manner. Negotiating deals with siblings was a piece of cake compared to pleading to high-nosed, ignorant teachers for a pass in French at school, whose bitter expressions on their wrinkly, sun-aged faces reminded me of sour lemons.
"Sadie," Cassie breathed, leaping from her pile of Pink Panther cushions to sit closer to me, "did I ever tell you how much you meant to me?"
I sat up, shrugging myself out my previous sluggish position, and pretended to think. "Hmm, I can't exactly remember when you last said that to me - maybe when I was eight?" I wondered, a playful twinkle visible in the corner of my midnight blue eyes.
"No, no, no," Cassie giggled, covering her smirking mouth, "I'm sure I've said a thousand times since then."
"Really? I've lost count."
"Like duh? Which sibling wouldn't let their elder sister know how much they love them?"
Had I been blind or what from the moment Cassie arrived home from the hospital, a little bundle of joy, her constant shrieks forcing me to cover my hands over my near-deaf ears, yet having the amazing ability to make the cutest laughs, whilst wrapped in a carnation-pink blanket? In the midst of our petty arguments and minor spats, I'd never taken the time to appreciate the fact that Cassie cared about me and deserved to win the 'Best Little Sister' award every time.
And I desperately wanted her to know that I cared, too.
Without any warning, I playfully grabbed Cassie's cherry blossom-pink t-shirt, encouraging her to giggle as though she was being manically ticked on her feet, and for a few joyful minutes, we forgot that we were fifteen and thirteen years old - we didn't care about whether we weren't behaving like drop-dead cool teenagers or acting superiorly. As far as I dared to imagine, we gone ten years back in time and were fun-loving five and three year olds again. It had taken me ages to realise that I still longed for enjoy playtime - an aspect of my innocent childhood that had disappeared long ago.
After tiring ourselves out to an extent that we could play no more, Cassie and I lied down on the soft mocha chocolate carpet, staring at the star-decorated ceiling, which Dad had painted around nine years ago.
"Do you still want to get rid of the stars?" I asked, an uncovered softness breaking through in my tone.
Cassie turned her locked gaze from the moon bright stars to me and answered, "Maybe, I don't know. I've had it for so long that... it would seem weird if I didn't have it."
"Keep it then," I advised. "Stars are cool, whatever your age."
Then we looked back at the ceiling, which strongly reminded me of that perfect, mind-blowing night with Joel. A lot of pain was still lying ahead - I'd have to open up to Joel about how made me feel, the good and definitely the super-bad - but the ache which should've hit me like an angst-filled punch left me numb, as if I was invincible to its feeling.
However, I stored those thoughts into a large, locked cardboard box at the back of my mind, and mentally returned to the wonderful moment I was sharing with my sister. Her tiny, slender fingers curled into mine, whose vast length reminded me of a gentle giant; as of yet, I would remain as the family 'supermodel', a nickname that Dad had light-heartedly suggested.
"Cassie?"
"Yeah?" Her voice groggy and drowsy, Cassie sounded as though she was halfway into a deep, nourishing sleep.
"I love you," I said, my entire
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