August isle by ali standish6/3/2023 Lily had spent the hour before locked in the bathroom we share, curling her hair and perfecting her makeup. You can tell that Lily is Mom’s daughter, not because they have the same complexion or eyes or hair, but because they are both the same kind of very polished pretty. She is going to Yale to study English next year, even though technically she has not applied yet, but she will definitely get in (see #1 above). There are two other things you need to know about Lily:Ģ. Lily is my older sister, in case you didn’t know, which you didn’t, because I’ve only just started the story. Just then, Lily came gliding down the stairs, flawless as usual, from her shiny long hair to her own sleek black tights. There’s a whole week left before school starts, after all. “As is” is an insult when it comes from Mom. I know because Mom said that three times before saying I would just have to go to the church “as is.” We didn’t have time to run to the store to buy a new pair. But when I searched my room earlier this morning, every pair I owned seemed to be ripped, or covered in Boomer hair. If I were wearing black tights, like Mom told me to, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the spot just between my big toe and my second. Maybe the only reason I notice the little white circle now is because I’ve been staring at my lap ever since I sat down in the front pew. Or maybe the spot has been there for a while, and I just haven’t noticed. It arrives unannounced and uninvited, like a fly buzzing around a picnic. The spot appears on the morning of Gram’s funeral.
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