Sisterchicks in Sombreros by Robin Jones Gunn Read Free Book Online Page A

while the other passengers broke ranks.
    “Teacher’s pet,” Joanne muttered, coming alongside and tugging mischievously on the strap of my life vest.
    I responded with a low growl.
    Not intimidated in the slightest, my sister confidently linked her arm in mine, and with our orange life vests bumping together as we walked, we returned to our room.
    “Did you bring something nice to wear to dinner?” Joanne asked, as she unfastened her vest and tossed it on the love seat.
    “I brought a dress, but I want to wear the loosest, most free-flowing clothes I have so this rash doesn’t get more irritated.”
    “Good idea. Do you remember when I told you on the phone the other night about my friend Sandy?”
    “Was she the one who went on the cruise to the Bahamas a couple of years ago?”
    “Yes. She said we have to be on time or else they close the doors, and they won’t seat us for dinner.”
    “I’m not going to miss dinner, if I can help it!” I said. “What do they do with the people who don’t make it in time? Seat them at the eight-thirty dinner?”
    “I guess. Or else they go to one of the other restaurants on the ship. Have you noticed how food is an important part of this cruise?”
    “Actually, no. I’m still looking forward to experiencing some food on this cruise.” I glanced in the mirror above the built-in dresser drawers and squawked, “Joanne, why didn’t you tell me my hair was this hilarious? I stood out there on deck with my wet hair flipping around in the breeze, and look how it dried! How come you didn’t say something?”
    “Because I thought you’d get upset.”
    “Upset?”
    “You used to always get upset if I made any comment about your hair or clothes needing adjustment.”
    “I did not.”
    “Yes, you did. You can’t tell me you don’t remember the fights we used to have over your hair.”
    “My hair? What fights?”
    Joanne looked incredulous. “You seriously don’t remember?”
    I shook my mangled mane. “Name one time I got upset about my hair.”
    “Okay,” Joanne said. “How about the morning before school pictures in sixth grade, when I told you to put your hair behind your ears when they took your picture? You decked me with a pillow and broke my turquoise necklace.”
    “No, no, no. You told me
not
to put my hair behind my ears because of the funny way my ears stick out. You said I had deformed ears, and I should get an operation.”
    “I never said that.”
    “Yes you did!”
    “You don’t have deformed ears,” Joanne said with a wry grin. “At least you better not because you and I have the same ears.”
    “No, it’s our noses that are the same.” I knew our dispute was at an impasse. I scrunched up my nose, and we both looked in the mirror together, Joanne mimicking my scrunch.
    “They are the same, aren’t they?” Joanne said. “I always wanted your eyes. Mine are too wide. So is my mouth. You got Mom’s mouth. I got Dad’s big cavern.” She opened wide, and I laughed because it made me feel as if I were back at the dentist’s office and some patient was trying to tell me, the front desk receptionist, which tooth was bothering her.
    “But you inherited the personality,” I told her. “Not to mention the perfect skin that doesn’t break out all the time.” I stretched up my chin to examine the receding bumps on my neck.
    Joanne pulled back and looked at me. “Miss Personality. Thanks a lot. That’s like being the runner-up, I guess. Miss Big Mouth with the nice skin and the great personality.”
    If I’d realized I was going to touch such a sensitive area in Joanne’s psyche, I never would have said anything about my hair or our noses or anything. We hadn’t been together for two hours yet, and here we were, back in our old habit of tearing ourselves down in front of the other in high hopes that the other sister would build us back up. Joanne had tossed out the invitation for me to boost her, and I had given her nothing more