Blindsided (Game On 2)

“Hi girls!”

Willow’s enthusiastic tone brightened my mood. She believed that wearing anything less than three different colours was a sign of depression, and as she waltzed over to us in a long purple and pink floral skirt and white blouse with pink and yellow polka dots, it was obvious she was in a sunny mood, in spite of the cold weather.

Mischa rolled her eyes, but shuffled over to make room for Willow and her tray laden with mushroom soup and bread rolls.

“What are we talking about?” she asked, tearing off a piece of bread and spearing it into the bowl of soup.

“Mischa’s party,” Georgia said. “And what Mischa plans on wearing.”

She pushed the magazine towards Willow, pointing to the dress.

“Ooh, hot stuff,” she said. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“None of your business,” Mischa said, sliding the magazine across the table, then tucking it back into her bag. “Actually, I suppose I can tell you, it’s not like you’re any competition for me.”

Mischa’s rudeness towards Willow was something we were all accustomed to, and while she was perfectly capable of standing up for herself, she usually let the comments glide over her.

I wished I could do the same.

Willow was actually quite pretty in a hippy kind of way. She had wavy blonde hair that flowed down to the middle of her back. Like me, she never really did well with boys, mainly because most of them branded her as weird because of her dress sense. We’d had countless conversations about why being attractive had to be all about looks, make-up and clothing, and decided we were worth more than getting tarted up in uncomfortable clothes for the opposite sex.

I hoped I sounded convincing, because I was pretty sure that tarting myself up might be the only way a guy would see me as more than “one of the twins,” or “Georgia’s sister.”

As usual, lunch was pretty tense once Mischa let out her inner bitch. When Willow finished eating, we left the others and went to the library where it was quiet, and infinitely more friendly.

On the way home, I was still pretty subdued. The ten minute bus ride with Georgia and Mischa seemed to drag on forever, as Mischa continued to witter about the party. I hoped beyond hope that she’d go back to her own house once we stepped off the bus, but she insisted on coming to ours to meet the “sexy footballer” and our “cute cousin.”

Mum and Dad weren’t home when we got in. Dad would be at work until late, and Mum had arranged to meet an old friend in the city. From the hallway, I heard the familiar sound of Super Mario coming from the living room. I couldn’t help smiling. Georgia and I bought Super Mario All Stars for our Nintendo Wii, just to see what video games were like before awesome graphics. It turned out to be one of our favourite games, and to hear Jesse and Hunter playing it amused me.

“Hunter, if you don’t pass this level now, I swear to God I’m making you play as the Princess next time!”

“Oh like you were doing any better!”

Mischa rolled her eyes. “I hope they’re not as dorky as they sound. I didn’t drag my arse over here to meet boys with bad breath and geek glasses.”

She was so shallow.

Georgia gave me an apologetic smile, and I knew she really meant it. Mischa was hard to argue with, so most of the time, nobody even tried.

Instead of witnessing her pawing at Jesse and Hunter, I headed straight upstairs to the sanctuary of my room and threw myself down on my bed, trying to tell myself that Mischa getting with Jesse wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. After all, he was on holiday and free to do whatever – or whoever – he pleased.

Even so, I shuddered at the thought.

Pull yourself together. You cannot spend the next month hiding in your bedroom to avoid him. Get over it.

That was certainly something I had a lot of practice in.

Chapter Three – Fame Seekers, Users, Gold Diggers and Cheats

Jesse

“One more try, I’ll do it this time, I swear!”

This was the third time Hunter had been defeated by an egg-firing bird, and I was itching to show him how to do it right but he kept the Wii remote firmly in his hands as he prepared for a fourth attempt.

“Hello, boys.”

The voice wasn’t familiar, and it caught Hunter’s attention quicker than mine. I was too busy staring at the eggs slamming Mario in the stomach, as Hunter turned his head.