Chapter 1
In a way, Lily Evans had always been perfect. Maybe not in her own eyes, because whenever she looked into the mirror, she’d see the way her teeth were slightly crooked. She’d see the way her skin wasn’t perfectly clear.
Petunia knew, because she’d stood by her side, listening to her complain about her imperfections. Standing by her side, at the second sink, staring at her own reflection. Listening to her twin sister fuss about her new pimples, all while staring at her own, acne clad face.
In moments like these, she wanted to hit Lily. Slap her across the face and yell at her to stop talking. To shut up. To look at herself in the mirror and see her own beauty. Because that’s what Lily was. Beautiful.
Instead, she’d force a smile. Swallow all her mean words. She’d say: “But I can’t even see those pimples. Your skin is good, really.”
It was the truth, and as a result, Petunia could never quite keep the bitterness out of her tone.
Because she couldn’t stand looking in the mirror, seeing herself next to her twin sister, and looking so different. Maybe not ugly, but never pretty. Because Lily was the pretty sister.
With her long, curly red hair. Her big green eyes, framed by long lashes. Her lively, blinding smile, and her skinny figure.
And Petunia was the ugly sister. Sure, their parents never called her ugly. But she wasn’t the pretty sister. And what is left if you’re not the pretty one?
“Look Petunia, your eyes are so much smaller than your sisters!”
“Look at your lashes, they’re short and straight, like your fathers!”
“Your face is kind of large, and Lily’s is kind of small, isn’t that fascinating? How twins can look so different?”
Fascinating, indeed it was. How Petunia had turned out with brown, straight hair, thin lips and pale skin, contrasting her sister in every single aspect.
She was taller too, shooting up to almost one eighty, whilst Lily stood at one seventy.
Her mother always called her a boy because of her features. The way they resembled her dad’s, the way they made her boyish.
And she hated every second of it. Not because she didn’t want to look like her dad. But because it made her less of a girl. In her mothers eyes, at least.
Petunia herself had never thought of herself as a boy. She’d never even thought she was exceptionally masculine.
But her mother seemed to see that differently.
She’d always see her out with Lily. Trying out new makeup together. Getting her all her presents in pink. Complimenting her nails. Going shopping together.
Petunia told herself it wasn’t that serious. That it didn’t affect her at all.
But it did. It burned in her chest, whenever she’d see them together. Because she liked those things too.
She liked putting on makeup too. She liked getting her nails done too. She liked pink too.
But to her mother, she wasn’t a real girl. She’d never been, and would never be.
A year ago, Petunia had worn a dress. Her mother said she hadn’t expected her to look so good in one.
Two years ago, her mother had asked her for an opinion on a shirt she wanted to buy and Petunia had said that it wasn’t very flattering.
Her mother laughed, and said that her opinion didn’t really matter, since she wasn’t a real girl anyway. She’d then turned to Lily and asked her instead.
It didn’t matter, Petunia tried to tell herself. It didn’t matter. Because she knew herself. And why would she care if her mother saw her as a boy?
But deep inside, she knew she would never be okay. Not with this, at least. Not with her looks. She’d always be a bad sister.
She’d always be envious of Lily. Of what she had. Of her clear skin, of her pretty features.
Of the relationship they allowed her with her mother. Of the relationship that was taken from her the day she was born, fat and ugly next to her perfect sister.
Of the relationship it gave her with her sister. The constant feeling of being second in line. Of never being pretty enough. Of never being the favorite.
The way it made her feel, to be walking next to her sister in public. She felt like a monster, huge and fat and ugly next to her perfect sister.
And it made her so angry, how much she let these emotions influence herself. How it put a strain on their relationship. How she lashed out at Lily, knowing very well none of this was her fault.
Lily couldn’t help being pretty. She couldn’t help being a nice person. Spoiled, perhaps, yes. But that wasn’t her fault either.
She knew the way people looked at them. Stared at her, thinking about how someone like Lily was friends with someone like Petunia.
And she was so fucking tired. So tired of their stares, tired of the way they made her feel. Tired of the way Lily called her from school, talking about all the boys that asked for her number since the last time she’d called.
Tired of the way her sister asked how her week was, as if anyone would ever ask Petunia out.
So fucking tired of the way Lily acted as if they were on the same page. As if Petunia was just as pretty. As if people swarmed to her the way they flocked to Lily. She was a natural. Everyone loved her.
No one loved Petunia, it sometimes felt like. She knew it was a dark thought to have. But she felt like it was the truth. There were people who loved her, sure. But they never really loved her.
They loved Lily’s sister. Perfect Lily’s twin sister.
Not Petunia.
Never Petunia.