She would deal with Mark's mess when she had to, and

wouldn't let him upset her.

Her thoughts drifted to her sister, the bigger problem in

her life. Rebecca wasn't sure she wanted to share all of her

issues about Lauren, and even felt a little guilty making him

work so hard to talk. But she decided to try-he might have

something useful to say. If his advice about Lauren was

anywhere as accurate as his advice about Mark, she would

be delighted.

"Do you want to hear about my sister now?"

"Hit me." Rebecca laughed at the expression,

particularly appropriate after someone had done just that to

him, only a week ago.

"There's just the two of us in the family. Lauren's three

years older. And she always put me down. Criticized my

actions, clothes, and appearance. She used to call me an

ugly goose. . ."

O.E. cut her off as loudly as possible through gritted

teeth. "She lies!"

"Yeah, I know. But she used to chant that all the time

when I was young. 'Little Becky, ugly goose.' God, I hated

that. Any act of kindness from her was merely a setup for

her do something mean."

Rebecca grunted. "You remember that horrible pink

bridesmaid dress from the wedding? Well, the funny thing

is that it wasn't the first time I wore a ridiculous pink dress.

The first time was when I was a kid." She exhaled noisily.

"I remember the day Lauren suggested that we make a

dress from leftover pink gift-wrap paper, cut and stapled

together. It was supposed to be some sort of peace offering

on her part, an attempt to act nice. But I knew better. When

the paper dress was finished, she forced me to put it on,

then grabbed my real clothes and wouldn't return them.

She teased me about my homely face, my stupid red hair,

my childish outfits, and whatever other ammunition she

could use, constantly chanting, 'Little Becky, ugly goose.'"

Rebecca sniffled. "She chased me all over the house and

swiped at the dress. When she'd managed to rip it to shreds,

she wandered off. I can still remember crying on the

kitchen floor in my underwear, shreds of pink paper

everywhere."

O.E. moaned lightly, an offer of sympathy. "No

parents?"

"They were never around. Mom worked all day in a

supermarket, and Dad worked all night in a tannery. Most

of the time, they were either asleep or gone. So Lauren

ruled most of my youth. If she wanted me to wear a pink

paper dress, I did." Rebecca paused, then managed to

chuckle lightly. "I'll tell you one thing: pink is not my color.




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