Free The Pretty One: A Novel About Sisters by Lucinda Rosenfeld Page B

give Perri the full thrust of her respect or appreciation.
    “Only homemade buttermilk,” said Perri.
    Olympia bit into the cake, and said, “Mm.”
    Perri put down her magazine and stood up. “Well, since I’m the obese sister and have no willpower and it was my daughter who made them, I’m going to have another one!” She jammed her hand into the box.
    “Stop,” said Olympia.
    “Excuse me?!” said Perri, her mouth already crammed full.
    “I mean, stop saying you’re fat!” said Olympia.
    “Why? It’s true,” said Perri.
    “It’s not true. You look fine,” said Olympia, taking momentary pity.
    “Boooorrrrringnoonecares,” muttered Gus, who, like Olympia, was slim without much effort.
    “Anyway.” Perri dusted imaginary cupcake crumbs from her lap and stood up. “I should head back to St. John’s. Dad is probably already out of surgery.”
    “I can come help if you want,” said Olympia.
    “No need,” said Perri. “If I’m gone long, maybe you guys can order something for dinner—if that’s not too much to handle.”
    She had to sneak in that last dig, Olympia thought. (And Round Two goes to Perri!) “Not too much at all,” said Olympia.
    Perri double-wound her pashmina around her neck. Then she walked out. The click-clack of her low-heeled pumps grew fainter as she neared the front door.

4
    A S G US WATCHED THE HEADLIGHTS of Perri’s SUV fade into tiny suns, then vanish into black holes, a feeling of dread overtook her. How would she and Olympia fill the time while Perri was gone? Gus suspected that she knew more about her middle sister than anybody. Yet she also felt she no longer knew how to talk to her, or even what to talk about. In recent years, Olympia had become so unreachable, so cold ultimately—except maybe with Lola. She was like a house with no doors or windows: it was impossible to get inside to see if it was even heated.
    Gus knew she could be bad-tempered and confrontational. But at least she had emotions! At least she admitted to being a member of the human race. These days, she found it far easier getting along with Perri than with Olympia, even though she and Perri had almost nothing in common and much less shared history since, growing up, they’d been nearly four years apart. But that didn’t mean Gus was above making fun of Perri to Olympia. “I’m sorry—I love Perri,” she began, recalling thatOlympia never tired of critiquing their oldest sister’s outfits. “But what the hell is she wearing today?”
    “Don’t ask me. She has terrible taste in clothes,” concurred Olympia, a half smile already in evidence.
    “Like, who wears a fucking skirt suit to go to the hospital?!” Gus went on. “Unless they’re, like, a drug rep or something.”
    “Perri, apparently.” Olympia’s half smile had already turned into a full-blown grin.
    “Remember that time she was wearing those jodhpurs, or whatever they were, and Dad asked her if she was going to a Halloween party?”
    “He thought she was dressed as a pirate, or something.”
    “Didn’t he ask her why she had no eye patch?”
    Olympia burst into bosom-vibrating guffaws, gratifying Gus, who remembered that her middle sister had always had a wonderful laugh, deep, hiccupy, and, well, warm. Maybe she was still human after all, Gus thought. Keen to leave their conversation at a high point, she reached for the remote and proceeded to flick through a dozen channels. “So, what do you say?” she said. “ Animal Cops: Houston, local news, or a mysteriously Tivo’d The Bachelor ?”
    “Whatever you want,” said Olympia, who wasn’t a big fan of television.
    “Well, I vote for The Bachelor. ”
    “Fine with me.”
    “What? You don’t think homosexuals are allowed to watch heterosexual shows?”
    “I didn’t say anything!” cried Olympia.
    “But I could tell you were thinking that,” said Gus, aware that she sounded vaguely pathetic. These days, something about Olympia’s very presence made Gus