Hockey Star by Day, Oil Mogul by night
When three seconds pass and I keep staring, hoping my glare alone conveys every ounce of hatred simmering inside me, Sylvia rolls her eyes and slips into the seat beside mine.
“Well, hello to you too,” she huffs, flicking her shiny nails at me. “I’m pretty sure mom raised us with manners. It’s sad that some of us have forgotten how to use it.”
For a moment, I see red.
I kid you not, a red haze washes over my vision and leaves me fucking trembling, desperate to send the air-headed bimbo flying across the rink with one forceful swipe of my hand.
Everyday, I ask God why, out of all the people in the world, he chose me to give an obnoxious, pain-in-the-ass twin sister.
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