My eyelids were heavy. After two and a half hours of watching my little sister Elizabeth Phisher, I prefer Lizbeth thank you very much, try on outfit after outfit after outfit for the fancy club her and her entourage were checking out that night, her voice had started sounding more like bees buzzing than actual words, so I was blocking her out as hard as I could. I was so lost in my head that I almost didn’t notice her hand waving in front of my face to recapture my attention.

“Charlie! Charrrrrrrrrrrlieeeeeeee!” she groaned, throwing herself down on the bed as dramatically as possible. A sea of clothes came toppling down on her, the pile she had made drowned her in a sea of sequins, short skirts, and halter tops. She sputtered like an old car in the winter time, gasping for air as her arms fought to break her free. The only thing visible was a tuft of white blonde hair.

“Mmm… peace and quiet,” I laughed, not bothering to help my struggling sister. In fact, I knocked another stack of clothes on top of the large pile.

“Charlie!” she shrieked. She thrashed for nearly five minutes, struggling to knock the clothes to the floor a few pieces at a time before she surfaced. Her waist-length, pin-straight platinum hair was fluffed up around her face like a bad case of bed-head, and her flawless complexion was ruddy from being so flustered. Lizbeth never let anyone but me see her less than perfect, but even I barely got a glimpse at her with one hair out of place.

I was beyond amused.

“You are an ungrateful bitch, you know that right,” Lizbeth said in her perfect deadpan. She grabbed the closest handful of clothes and chucked them at my face, but I ducked just in time for her missile to hit the headboard. “You’re lucky that you’re my big sister, and I can’t just destroy you socially to get you out of my hair.”

It sounds like she is joking, but I assure you that Lizbeth never jokes about ruining anyone’s social standing. She might as well have Queen Bee tattooed across her forehead. She took socialite to a whole different level. Luckily, I rarely had to deal with that side of her. To me, she was just my bratty little sister. And I loved her for it, despite the lengthy bedroom fashion shows I couldn’t care less about.

“I know, little sis. But you love me. At least as much as you love those designer jeans that make your legs look like they go all the way to your ears.” I gave her the best smile I could muster, but she turned around too quickly to see it.

“Hmm.. now there is an idea,” she muttered to herself, but loud enough for me to her it too. “What else do I love as much as you?” she asked, snapping around, an idea lighting up her brown eyes.

I knew what game she was getting at, but I decide to play along because I knew it would get me out of there sooner. I thought for a second, trying to remember the new shirts she pulled me in there to see the night before.

“I know I’m at least as special as that red designer top with the silver stenciling on the front and open back. And those five-inch black stilettos with the silver across the toes.” Lizbeth walked into the closet and shuffled around, talking to herself as she thought over my suggestion.

A few pieces of clothing flew through the closet door and joined the clothes already piled on the floor. What had to be twenty minutes later, she emerged from the closet – wearing nothing I had suggested but the designer jeans.

“We’ll work on your taste in clothes later,” she said, throwing discarded clothes onto the bed and my lap. When she grabbed the last item from the floor to throw on her bed, she froze like she was having an epiphany. She stood there like that for thirty seconds, then chucked the shirt at my face and dove back into her larger than life closet.

Jumping off the bed, I followed her. My curiously got the better of me.

Just as I was going into the closet, Lizbeth came out of it with an arm full of clothes and barreled into me.

“What are you doing, crazy?” I asked, grabbing her arms to keep both of us upright. Lizbeth ignored me and shook my hands loose. She pushed around me like a bulldozer and marched out of her room and down the hall.

I was hot on her heels, especially when I noticed that she was heading for my room. I doubled my speed to get around her and stop her from opening my bedroom door.

“Whoa, whoa , whoa, Psycho! Where are you heading with all that stuff? I’m not goodwill or extra closet space. Take that somewhere else.” Lizbeth ignored me still as she shifted all the clothes into on arm.

With her other, she grabbed my arm hard and wrenched me out of her way. She was sneaky strong. No way, looking at her pencil thin arms, did I think she had the strength to move me. I weighted twice what she did, and I was six inches shorter.

“Come on,” she said as she disappeared into my room.

She threw all the clothes onto the bed and wheeled around to look at me, pointing a finger at me, nearly poking me in the chest with a bony finger. 

“Try it all on. Find an outfit that looks good because you are coming with me, Lois, Helen, and Portia to that new club tonight – I think it’s called Howl. It’s very upscale with a goth-grunge feel. You’ll love it.” I glared at her from my doorway with my hands on my hips

“And if I don’t.”

“Then you can just get drunk. And I’ll pretend that I don’t know you. I’m going to have a good time either way. You can choose whether or not you do. Now, hurry up and get dressed. The car is going to be here at ten.” Lizbeth flounced past me and down the hall to do her hair and makeup while I dove into the massive pile of clothes she had tossed on my bed.

It was going to be a long night.