Can you ever just be Whelmed?

The muffled beat of music pulsed softly in Agatha’s room, blending with the quiet rustle of pages as she turned them. She lounged against a stack of pillows, fully absorbed in her book, one leg stretched out and the other tucked under her. This was how she liked to spend her evenings—curled up, away from the noise of her classmates, hidden from the drama she refused to entertain.

Outside her door, Jen’s voice rang out, bright and buoyant, spilling out of a lively phone call. Agatha rolled her eyes, adjusting her headphones as she tried to drown out her sister’s endless chatter. But Jen had a voice that carried, and as the giggles and murmurs drifted down the hall, Agatha’s focus wavered, her gaze slipping from the page.

Eventually, Jen’s voice quieted, and a second later, her door creaked open. Agatha glanced up, one eyebrow raised as Jen slipped into the room, phone in hand and eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Could you be any louder?” Agatha asked, her voice dry but not unkind. She turned her attention back to her book, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Jen shrugged, grinning as she plopped down at the foot of Agatha’s bed, crossing her legs and letting her shoes fall to the floor. “I figured I’d save you from your self-imposed isolation.”

Agatha shot her a look. “And here I thought you were capable of doing that all on your own.”

Jen rolled her eyes, waving her off, but her smile didn’t falter. She leaned back, pulling her phone close as she glanced at Agatha’s book, her curiosity piqued. “So, guess what? I saw at least three new cute people today.”

Agatha’s mouth quirked up. “And this is my problem because…?”

Jen nudged her, undeterred. “Because I thought you’d be happy for me. One of them is even in my chemistry class—dark hair, cute smile, actually listens to the teacher. Shocking, right?”

“Very,” Agatha replied dryly, though a small smile escaped her. “It’s like a miracle.”

“Oh, and,” Jen continued, her cheeks turning faintly pink, “I saw Billy near the lockers. He smiled at me.”

At the mention of Billy, Agatha’s expression soured. “And that’s supposed to be…good news?”

Jen’s grin widened, and she shrugged. “What? He has this confidence thing going on, you know? Like he’s…well, interesting. It’s kind of cute.”

Agatha snorted, shaking her head. “Interesting? Please. That guy spends more time staring at himself than anything else.”

“Come on, you’re too hard on people,” Jen replied with a laugh, brushing off Agatha’s skepticism. “He’s nice to look at, at least. Besides, he actually noticed me.”

“Jen, I’d bet half the school notices you,” Agatha muttered, her voice softening just a little. Her sister’s romantic streak was endlessly hopeful, always willing to see the best in people. It was a quality Agatha tried to admire, though more often than not, she found herself wanting to shield Jen from the inevitable letdown.

Jen shrugged, her smile unbothered. “Fine, maybe you’re right. Oh! And you’ll love this—apparently Rio Vidal got in trouble again.”

Agatha didn’t look up from her book, though she felt her pulse pick up. She forced herself to stay calm, uninterested. “Trouble? Shocking.”

“Right? Apparently, Rio got in a full argument with Mr. Foster,” Jen said, her tone gleeful. “Told him the book he assigned was…what was it? Oh yeah—‘riddled with misogynistic nonsense.’ Just said it, right to his face.”

Agatha’s mouth twitched, a reluctant smile forming at the edges. Rio Vidal, who had irritated her since practically the beginning of the school year, had the audacity to call out a teacher for sexism? She hated to admit it, but that was bold—almost admirable.

“She didn’t back down,” Jen continued, her voice dropping to a whisper as if savoring the drama. “She just stood there, totally unfazed. She’s intense, huh?”

“Intense isn’t the word I’d use,” Agatha replied, turning her gaze back to her book, but there was something in her eyes—something she couldn’t quite mask. Rio’s boldness intrigued her, though she tried to bury the feeling. She’d written Rio off as arrogant, smug, and difficult, but maybe…no, she wouldn’t entertain it.

Jen smirked, nudging her sister knowingly. “You know, I think you’re impressed.”

Agatha huffed, but didn’t deny it. “She’s…bold,” she admitted quietly, her voice almost reluctant. “Not something I’d expect around here.”

Jen grinned, throwing an arm around Agatha’s shoulders in a rare moment of affection. “I’ll take that as a yes. Anyway, enough about my love life. Are you ever going to stop reading and actually talk to people at school?”

“Not if I can help it,” Agatha replied, voice deadpan. But a flicker of warmth shone in her eyes as she nudged Jen back, relaxing into her sister’s embrace. For all their bickering, there was no one she loved more than her little sister.

Agatha returned to her book, letting herself sink back into the familiar pages, but Jen’s words lingered, refusing to be dismissed. Rio, standing up to Mr. Foster, calling his assigned reading “riddled with misogynistic nonsense.” The mental image felt jarring—Rio, of all people, taking a stand like that?

It didn’t fit. Rio was the slacker, the carefree bad girl with that irritatingly smug grin, always more interested in skipping class than taking a stance. But this story poked at the edges of that image, suggesting something sharper, something that Agatha didn’t want to think about.

Agatha shook her head, gripping the pages a little tighter. Rio was nothing more than an occasional, annoying presence in her life. And Agatha had her own reputation to maintain—distant, collected, someone who didn’t get caught up in rumors or thoughts about people like Rio Vidal.

She refocused on the lines of text, willing her attention back to the page. If Rio had another side, Agatha reminded herself, she had no intention of finding out.

She was reinvesting in her book when Jen’s bright voice cut through her focus.

“Oh! Guess what?” Jen said, bouncing onto the bed beside Agatha. “I’ve been watching these tutorials, and I have learned everything about skincare and makeup. I’m practically a pro now.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest. “Fascinating.”

Jen rolled her eyes, undeterred. “No, really! I even ordered a bunch of stuff to practice with—serums, face masks, contour kits… And I can make anyone look good, if I do say so myself.” She paused, studying Agatha’s face thoughtfully. “You know, I could do something amazing with your look.”

Agatha let out a snort, snapping her book shut. “No, thank you. I have no interest in looking like a painted doll.”

“Oh, come on,” Jen protested, lightly nudging her. “It’s not about that. Makeup and skincare are about enhancing what’s already there.”

Agatha shook her head, her expression firm. “That’s just code for changing to fit someone else’s standards. I’d rather not.”

Jen laughed softly, rolling her eyes. “Of course you’d say that. And I get it—you’re already beautiful. But you could really bring out your features. Like your hair—it’s so long and black; I’d kill for that! And your eyes…ugh, that stormy grey look? People pay for contacts that color.”

Agatha felt her cheeks warm slightly, though she kept her expression carefully blank. “It sounds like a lot of work to me.”

Jen shrugged, a smile playing on her lips. “Maybe, but sometimes it’s fun to try something new. And, I mean, I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to play around with it….”

Agatha looked at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Jen, I’m not interested in ‘playing around’ with anything.”

Jen laughed, not the least bit discouraged. “I know, I know. You’re above it all. But just know that the offer’s on the table.”

Agatha gave her a flat look, but her lips quirked up at the edges despite herself. “Duly noted.”

Jen grinned, pleased with herself. “Alright, fine, Miss Anti-Makeover. I’ll leave you to your gloomy novels, but one day you’re going to look in the mirror and wonder what I could do for you.”

Agatha couldn’t help but laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

With one last playful nudge, Jen pulled Agatha back into her, leaving Agatha with a faint smile on her face and a rare, warm feeling in her chest.

The slam of the front door echoed through the house, followed by a familiar voice calling up the stairs. “Girls! I’m home!”

Jen perked up instantly, leaping to her feet with a wide grin. “Dad’s home!” She darted out of Agatha’s room, calling back over her shoulder, “Come on, Ag!”

Agatha rolled her eyes, taking her time as she closed her book and stretched lazily. Her dad’s arrival always meant a bit of a performance: the expectation of smiles, eager updates on the day, all of which Agatha had little patience for. She finally stood, strolling down the stairs with a deliberate slowness that she knew would get under his skin.

By the time she reached the bottom, her dad was already nodding along to Jen’s animated recount of her day, his smile a mix of amusement and exhaustion as she peppered him with details.

“...and then Mr. Foster totally mispronounced my name—again!—but I didn’t correct him this time because he’s already convinced I’m ‘too chatty,’” Jen was saying, her voice bright with laughter. She barely stopped for breath, hardly noticing as Agatha slipped into the room.

Their dad’s gaze shifted to Agatha, his smile softening as he raised a brow. “Nice of you to join us, Agatha,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of impatience.

Agatha shrugged, leaning against the doorway with a casual smirk. “I wanted to make a grand entrance.”

He shook his head, chuckling, but there was an edge to his expression. “Always the difficult one,” he muttered, though his voice held a note of fondness.

Agatha forced a smirk, shrugging it off like she didn’t care, but the words lodged somewhere deep inside. Always the difficult one. She knew he was only teasing, but there was truth in it, too—Jen was the easy one, the one who made people smile, the one who knew how to fit in. And that left her as…well, the hard one. The difficult one.

For a moment, she looked down, her fingers brushing absently at the edge of her book as she willed herself to shake it off. She’d learned long ago that being “difficult” came with its own kind of power. Better to wear it as armor than let it be something that hurt her.

Lifting her head again, she flashed her dad a cool, practiced smirk. “Well, somebody has to keep things interesting around here.”

Her dad chuckled, his focus back on Jen, but Agatha’s smile faded as she settled against the wall, quietly feeling the weight of her role, the way it clung to her in a way she couldn’t shake, even if she wanted to.

“So,” her dad continued, his voice softening as he turned to her. “How was school for you today, Agatha?”

Agatha felt her throat tighten for a split second. It was a simple question—one he probably asked without a second thought. But for her, it was like stepping into a spotlight. She knew he wanted her to share something real, to open up the way Jen did, without hesitation or that invisible wall between them.

But letting people in didn’t come naturally to her. She lifted her chin, settling into the cool, practiced expression she knew so well. “It was fine,” she replied, voice clipped, guarded. “Nothing else to add.”

Her dad gave her a searching look, disappointment flickering briefly in his eyes. But before he could press her further, she cut in, smirking as she shifted the attention. “If you want details, you should ask Jen about the boy who smiled at her today.”

Jen shot her a look, clearly realizing what Agatha was doing. But Agatha just smirked, letting herself settle back into the role of the observer, the deflector, the one who didn’t give too much of herself away.

Their dad’s expression shifted in an instant. “A boy?” he asked, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Jen, you know the rules. No dating until—”

“Until Agatha starts dating, I know,” Jen finished, rolling her eyes dramatically. “But Dad, I’m sixteen. Shouldn’t I be allowed to date?”

He crossed his arms, his tone firm. “You know how I feel about being fair, Jen. You’ll start dating at the same age as your loving older sister.”

“Just like the rule with the cellphones,” Agatha chimed in, unable to hide her amusement. “Jen got one at twelve because I did. Social media, too—you had to wait till fourteen, just like me. And…wasn’t there something about curfew?”

Jen groaned, her cheeks pink with frustration. “That’s so unfair! You’re older; of course you got things first!”

“Exactly,” their dad replied, his tone unyielding but gentle. “And fairness means you get things when she did. No earlier.”

Agatha’s smirk widened as she nudged Jen, a teasing gleam in her eye. “Good luck with that one.”

Jen huffed, crossing her arms in a mirror of her dad’s stance. “This isn’t fair,” she muttered, shooting a glare at Agatha.

“Life’s not fair, Jen,” Agatha said, her voice light with mock sympathy as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You’ll survive.”

Their dad shook his head, smiling despite himself as he watched the exchange. He might be strict, but the affection in his gaze was unmistakable, and even Agatha couldn’t resist a small, begrudging smile. In her own way, she appreciated the predictability of it all—the teasing, the rules, the knowing her dad would always keep things level.

As Jen stomped off, clearly planning to find some way to convince their dad otherwise, Agatha met her father’s gaze, giving him an innocent look that didn’t quite mask her amusement.

“You could make things a little easier on your sister,” he said, though his voice was softened with affection.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Agatha replied, her smirk still in place as she turned to follow Jen.