Kelly was always the perfect one. She appeared to have all the attributes of a saint: a great Christian life, grades any parent would be proud of, she knew just what to say to adults, and worst of all she never made a mistake. What parent would not love a daughter like that, and I always felt that mine loved her more then me. I don’t know, still to this day, whether my hatred for her blossomed from jealousy or frustration. Whatever the case, our fighting had reached a new plateau. Both teenagers, our sibling rivalry had mutated from fighting over toys to things like clothes, the phone, and trying to get the other in trouble.
A common day in the Frasz house would include petty arguments over borrowing clothes, touching the other’s things, or just being annoying. But, on occasion, all hell would break loose and those were the times that we were left alone. These moments were dangerous and I don’t know how my sister and I both survived them. I, myself, was often tempted with reenacting Cain and Abel on my sister. The winner was often the one more enraged or with the better weapon, as it has been in battle for centuries.
This was the “perfect child”? Everyone thought so highly of Kelly; I knew better. I knew how she rea
She wore preppy clothes, never up to date with the latest fashions. She also learned things about me and better understood how I worked. The things that were diverse we saw as wrong or bad and just another thing to tease each other about. The same girl that received an A on her history test, was the same one who chased me around the house with a broom. She was becoming that perfect girl I used to hate, but I was beginning to love that about her. With that our relationship grew, we had found a common bond. She trusted me with the secret and asked for advice on how to break the news to my parents. Deep down inside, I think that I have Kelly on a pedestal, as the Perfect Child. I am sure she remembers the night as being stressful and over-whelmed with emotions, but I look back at it as one of our most special times together. I even found myself at times forgetting her flaws and thinking highly of her, which made me hate her even more. I let everything about her bother me, her attitude, her demeanor, even her looks. I never used to think so, but that was my bitter attitude at its finest. I had the opportunity to be there for my sister two years ago.