You know how they say that spring is a time of rebirth? That what better time to reconstruct yourself than not New Year’s like everyone claims to do each year and then fails at, but during the season of rebirth and renewal? Well, I always thought that was more talking about plants and animals, you know, that kind of stuff. When I think of spring, I think of those dainty pink and white cherry blossoms blooming on the trees, the color green making its way back to the earth, animals being born, pastel colors, bright flowers popping out of the ground, that kind of thing. I also think of spring break and school soon ending and flip flops and swimming and the upcoming summer.

          I never once thought about Alaska or snow or a rebirth of myself.

          I think it’s safe to say that as a whole, our population generally views spring break as a blessing as we voraciously soak up the free trial run of approaching summer that we’ve been granted for the week. I mean, no school, no work, no worries. It all works out in everyone’s favor. After a long, grueling winter (those nights that are sixty degrees Fahrenheit are just too cold to bear), we finally get rewarded. The pool parties and beach trips with friends are plenteous and you can finally go bikini shopping without your dad getting on your case for maxing out your credit card only a month ago because hello, I cannot be caught dead wearing last year’s swimwear.

         “Look out!” Nick, arguably the most popular guy in our grade (or so he thinks) and—unfortunately—my ex-boyfriend cheers, cannonballing straight into the pristine clear water of my family’s in-ground swimming pool.

         A couple of girls tanning nearby on our row of pool chairs giggle at his immaturity.

         I roll my eyes and whine aloud once he resurfaces about how his incompetence to think before he acts resulted in me getting wet, though secretly I think the water feels refreshing on my skin under the harsh glare of the afternoon Florida sun.

         Nick smirks and splashes me once more before backstroking over to the other side of the pool where he joins in on a conversation with a group of people who we’re mutually friends with.

         I adjust my sunglasses and try to ignore him, though I have the sudden urge to drag him up the top of our waterslide and push him over the edge, and not on the side where the slide leads into the water. It’s hard, trying to stay friends with your ex. Especially when he decides to do a 180 on you and suddenly go into full on jerk mode after previously being one of those overly sappy boyfriends who cling to you like sweat after a workout. It’s like we’re friends, but everyone knows that when it comes down to it and we’re both given the chance to rip each other’s throats out, we’d reach out for that opportunity with the eagerness of a starving animal awaiting its prey.

         Why do I even bother with all of these immature high school boys?

         “Don’t worry everyone, the life of the party is here!” a familiar feminine voice suddenly announces over the blaring radio someone had hooked up on the deck.

         Unmoving, I take the opportunity to trail my eyes, thankfully concealed behind my Gucci sunglasses, over toward my blonde-haired best friend. She’s sporting a white Victoria’s Secret push up bikini set with a matching pair of stringy bottoms, no doubt to display her hard-earned bikini body and tan.

           I don’t show any sign of acknowledgment. She can come to me, first. If I initiate any sign of excitement upon her arrival, she will mistake it as an act of inferiority on my part and invalidly get this distorted and false sense of reality that she’s better than me or something ridiculously untrue.

         I rest my head back and sigh contently until I feel a shadow blocking my sunlight only a few seconds later.

         “Hey Opal,” she greets, though I can tell there’s something else she has to say. I barely mumble a “hi” in response. Without any kind of consent, she suddenly plops herself down so she’s sitting at the bottom edge of my chair, right next to my pink-manicured toes.

         “Can I help you, Katie, or . . .?” I stare at her blankly and snap my gum. Katie gives a small smile before throwing her beach bag full of miscellaneous possessions  over to the chair beside me where this ridiculously toned girl in our grade is currently sprawled, half-tanning and half-gossiping with the girl on her other side. She stops mid-sentence and narrows her eyes at Katie.

         “Oops, sorry,” Katie apologizes, though we all know that this is a lie. The other girl huffs. “You’re starting to look a little red, Lauren. I’d put on more sunscreen before you look like a tomato. Don’t want a repeat of last summer, remember?” Lauren’s eyes widen in horror and she springs herself up and quickly darts over toward my deck, snatching a bottle of SPF 80 from a redheaded senior who lives down the road. Once she’s gone, Katie takes her place with a self-satisfied smirk.

         “I mean, you could have just sat right here,” I point out indifferently, jabbing my thumb in the direction of the currently-unoccupied chair to my other side.

         Katie shrugs and waves her hand dismissively as she positions herself on the chair.

         “There’s more sun here. Anyway,” she chirps, “it’s spring break, AKA the third-best time of the year, after summer and Black Friday, of course.”

          I nod my head at this and zero in on Nick, who seems to be watching Katie from the other side of the pool like he wants to talk to her. I notice that she glances over in his direction, meeting his gaze, before glancing away when she realizes I’m watching. Inconspicuously, I create an indent using my thumbnail in the palm of my hand as I revert my attention back to Katie.

          “So I was thinking, and we should really plan what we’re going to do. Obviously shopping is a must, but I heard there’s this huge party at the Watson’s place on Friday, but I’m not sure if that’s a sin because, like, Good Friday and all, but it sounds like it’ll be fun. Oh! And we should definitely—”

          I stop her right there.  “Hold on! Seriously Katie, you can’t tell me you forgot.”

          She gives me a blank stare. “Forgot? I don’t understand. Forgot what?”

          “I told you this like a week ago. I’m going to Paris tomorrow for spring break, remember? After Dad and the new stepmom tie the knot, the whole family is flying out to The City of Lights for some bonding time or whatever my dad said? Ring a bell?”

          She throws a hand up to her forehead in sudden remembrance. “Oh right! I completely forgot, sorry Opes. Guess I’ll have to ask Abby or someone instead, huh. But wait! Didn’t you say the wedding is today?”

          I shrug. “So?”

          “So shouldn’t you be getting ready instead of having half the school over for a spring break kickoff pool party?” she drawls.

          I push myself up from my spot, fed up with the conversation, and finally take my sunglasses off. “Whatever. It’s not like this’ll be the last wedding for my dad that I’ll be going to. Kristen’s a total gold digger. I say their marriage will last for a year, tops, before they call it off.”

          Before Katie gets a chance to respond, I take a running start and plunge down into the cool embrace of chlorinated water, my body falling deeper, deeper, deeper. I let myself sink to the ground at the very bottom where it’s ten feet deep until my toes hit the rough surface, sending my body springing right back up once again until my burning lungs meet the warm air outside. I feel my now-saturated hair stick to my back and shoulders and take the opportunity to adjust my swimsuit before paddling over to where Nick and several other people in my grade are milling about at the shallow end.

          “Hey Opal,” a few people greet upon my arrival. A petite pale girl who looks incredibly familiar but I can’t match a name to her face compliments me on my house, which is most likely significantly larger than hers. I give a tight smile in response, though now I can’t stop thinking about my dad’s wedding no thanks to Katie, which is exactly what I was trying to forget.

          You see, this wedding isn’t a special occasion by any stretch of imagination. Not when this will be my dad’s fourth marriage. Fourth. Now, don’t get the wrong idea, because he’s an okay guy. I mean, he’s loaded, sure, but he’s not shallow or one of those spoiled rich guys who collect wives like they collect paychecks. He does have a heart, and he’s kind of soft-spoken at times, though he can also be really assertive when it comes to business and stuff, too. He’s just kind of hopeless at the whole family thing. Ever since he and my mom divorced back when I was eight, things have gone downhill.

          Don’t get the wrong idea about that, either. My mom is a great person; in fact, she’s currently living in Africa to work at an orphanage and volunteer her services to support the African children, along with other globally-friendly things. She’s always been all about using your abilities to help others, which is what makes her so great. She used to always bring the fun and adventure to our house growing up, back when we were a happy, tight knit family who did everything together. When she and my dad realized they weren’t made for each other and she left to pursue her dream of living in Africa, the fun and adventure that used to always flood our house left with her, too. My dad grew distant and my older brother got mixed in with the wrong crowd. He’s a total druggy now.

          As for me, well, I turned out okay. I have more friends than I can keep track of, a good spot on the school’s swim team, a big house, and—admittedly—plenty of boys who want to date me. Unlike Ryan, my brother, I don’t let things pull me away from my ultimate goal: success. I know what I want and I will stop at nothing to get it. That’s not to say I never go to my fair share of parties or I’ve never had a shot of vodka, because I said I turned out okay, not “I turned out nauseatingly perfect.”

          “Hey Opal, I heard that once your dad remarries that blonde chick, you’re transferring to North Central to go to school with Ellie McConnell,” Nick suddenly announces.

          “No way. Is that true?” a dark skinned girl named Rosalie asks suspiciously.

          I glare at Nick. North Central is our rivalling school and there is no way I’d ever go there. Not only are the school colors disgusting (mustard yellow and maroon; what’s their mascot? McDonalds?), but their students are known to be highly immature. Plus, that’s where Ellie goes. I don’t like Ellie. He knows that.

          “No,” I declare, my eyes trained on Nick, “it’s not.”

          “That’s a shame,” he shoots back. “I’ve always thought it would be a nice change to go to school without all the complications in the form of Opal Finnegan.”

         Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Katie has gotten in the pool, though she hasn’t submerged her body underwater completely yet and is only wet up to her waist, he teeth chattering from the different atmospheres her body is exposed to. She approaches the group, who has grown silent, fully awaiting a showdown between Nick and I to occur. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d witness us go at it since we broke up about two or three weeks ago.

          “That’s funny. I’ve always thought it would be interesting to see what life is like without you, too! Just imagine it: no more douche bags who think they’re great because they have blonde hair—bleached blonde, no less—and dazzling blue eyes that just make your heart melt.” I throw a dramatic hand over my heart and notice that I have most everyone’s attention now. “And don’t get me started on your athletic ability. Spending half the baseball season on the bench and being the reason we lost our last football game are definitely traits you can’t forget. Oh, and remember what you told me that one night you got drunk? About what you did with—”

          I finally strike a nerve and Nick cuts me off angrily. This makes me smirk. “Shut up, Opal. Nobody asked you, okay? And for the record, my hair is not bleached anymore. That was one time, and it was for that big baseball game against North Central. Everyone on the team did it.”

          “Oh, the one that you sat on the bench full game? I remember,” I quip, a fiery look igniting within my gray irises.

          He looks like he wants to strangle me. It’s a great feeling, being the one in control. Not that I’m not used to that feeling. It’s no secret that I basically dominate this school. Like any good leader, I have a few minions, but none of them come close to being as popular or threatening as I am. Every high school has that one girl who knows how to be confident and is a natural born leader. At my school, that girl is me. Katie likes to think it’s her a lot of the time, but at the end of the day, she’s the best friend of Opal Finnegan and not the other way around. That’s just how it works.

          “You know, someday you’re gonna get what you deserve, Opal. You might get to live the perfect life now, but someday it’s all going to come crashing down and you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna laugh in your face because you set yourself up for it.” Nick’s smirking now, and I feel my hands clench into fists. I glare hotly at him.

          “I’m sure that’ll happen. Because last time I checked, I’m going way further in life than you—”

          “Okay guys, let’s play a game!” Katie cries desperately before I can finish my thought. I turn around to glare at her for ruining the moment but she stares right back at me with a deadly expression. Nick advances threateningly like he is going to shove me before turning and swimming toward the deep end of the pool. A few people follow in his wake; though most just linger near the shallow end, still relatively stunned, before they snap themselves out of it, no doubt to disperse into different circles to gossip and input their opinions on the latest showdown.

          They decide to play Marco Polo like we used to always do back in middle school, and suddenly I have no desire to swim anymore, especially not if they’re bringing back immature kiddie games. But first, I approach Katie, who’s about to go over to where Nick is.

          “Thanks a lot for that,” I mutter. “I had that under control; you didn’t need to interfere.”

          “Oh, I didn’t?” she challenges. “Please Opal, just because you guys basically hate each other doesn’t mean I have to defriend him. It’s not my fault you’re too immature to just suck it up and act like an adult. Someone had to do something before you did something you’d regret.”

          Says the one dressed like a wannabe Victoria’s Secret Angel, I almost retaliate, though by now she’s ditched me to join the ongoing game of Marco Polo. Whatever. Who needs her?

          I lie back so I’m floating on the water and close my eyes, the sun burning its way through my skin and warming my face. I can’t even find it in me to get mad at Katie. She’s always been jealous of me. And if she wants to ditch her best friend to hang out with said best friend’s ex, that’s her mistake. But when Nick ditches her for some other equally fake girl, guess who will be the one laughing then?

          Suddenly, there’s a loud screeching noise that I recognize as the screen door being thrust open. Even before I look up, I know exactly who opened that door. Just the person I was wanting to see.

          “Opal!” an irritated voice yells. The loud voice of my almost-stepsister makes me wince. “You’re a freaking idiot, Finnegan. Our parents’ wedding is in twenty minutes and you’re swimming. Swimming! God, you’re the most inconsiderate person I know.”

          I grit my teeth and stand up to come face-to-face with Ellie McConnell, hands on her hips as she looks down at me with a disapproving look. Her face is coated in makeup that accentuates her features well and she’s in a lilac bridesmaid dress, a replica of the one I should be wearing right now, too. Only I’m not. Oops?

          “I was actually thinking about skipping. Tell my dad and your mom I give my best wishes to them and I’ll see them later when they get home.”

          Ellie shoots me the most threatening face she can manage, but I’m not intimidated. She’s popular at her school, sure, but she’s nothing compared to me. And besides, she cheers. I swim. Her after school practices involve doing little bendy stunts and cartwheels or whatever and mine include lifting weights and swimming laps. She’s far weaker than I am, both physically and socially. She knows this, though she often seems willing to challenge this theory. Kind of like Katie. It’s annoying.

          “Opal, I swear to God,” she hisses at me. I widen my eyes and stare at her with an innocent expression, clearly angering her more which delights me. “Get out and come with me. We have to go now, and if you’re not with me when we get there, I’m gonna get in trouble and that is not happening. And sucks to be you because there isn’t any time to get dressed or do your hair or makeup, so it looks like you have to go looking like that.”

          I glare at her and motion toward my body, clad in only a cute black and white bikini I bought just last weekend with Katie and Abby. “Pretty sure that this looks way better than some frilly dress your mom picked out. Lilac bridesmaid dresses are so overrated. And you can’t make me get out, so . . .”

          Ellie groans irritably and calls Nick over. “Help me get Opal out, will you?” she pleads. To my horror, he obliges, a disgusting grin plastered to his stupid face. I dodge him easily, shooting my way to the other side of the pool, but his hand clasps around my ankle and jerks me to a stop. His grip tightens until he has me in a death grip in his arms and he has to practically drag me to get me out of the pool. I let out a horrified squeal and try to kick out of his muscular arms, noticing Katie stiffen out of my peripheral vision. Her eyes cloud up with annoyance. She’s jealous that the attention is on me and not her again. Not my fault.

          Once I’m out of the water and shivering in the open air, I slap Nick.

          “Don’t touch me. Ever again.”

          “It’s not like I liked it. You nearly gave me a black eye with all your squirming.”

          “Glad to hear it.” Then I turn to Ellie who I realize doesn’t even look like herself up close with her hair all curled and makeup done more dramatically than her usual. She looks about ready to lunge at me so I back away slowly, suppressing an eye roll. “All right, I’ll come to the stupid wedding. Just let me grab my cover up and shoes.” I go over to where my beach bag is perched next to the chair I had previously lounged on and throw a relatively transparent cover up over my bikini and slide into a pair of flip flops. I consider bringing my sunglasses but decide against it. Don’t want any awkward tan lines on my face. That would be detrimental to my reputation.

          And, if it isn’t blatantly obvious, my reputation is not something I want to mess around with. When your name is Opal Finnegan, you have standards to live by. Incredibly high standards, of course, but I make it work.

          Before I leave, I put my friend Abby in charge of everyone as a punishment to Katie for being annoying. I can tell she’s pissed, but that’s not my priority. Not that I want the wedding to be my top priority, but I don’t have much choice in the matter. Besides, at least once this is all over, I’ll get to go to Paris and shop in cute French boutiques and eat delicious pastries and stare at hot foreign boys. And on the bright side, my dad will most likely divorce this Kristen bimbo and move on to someone else soon enough. I just have to hold out and everything will right itself eventually.

          I slide into the passenger seat and then Ellie drives us to the beach where the wedding is being held about ten minutes away. Neither of us attempt conversation so I turn on the radio and crank an old summer hit from when I was a kid. Ellie swats my hand away from the control and turns it down a few notches, only for me to turn it right back up.

          “Can you stop?” she asks dryly. I ignore her and belt out the lyrics to the song that’s playing gleefully, thrumming my fingers on my bare thighs and focusing my attention at the passing houses lit under the afternoon sunshine, kids running around barefoot in perfectly-manicured green lawns. Ellie makes another attempt to turn the volume down and I immediately turn the dial right back up. “God you’re annoying,” I hear her mumble beside me.

          “Better get used to it, sis,” I mutter sardonically. “You know, just because you can tell people we’re family now doesn’t mean you can make it out like we’re close. We’re not, nor will we ever be.”

          Ellie's knuckles turn white as she tightens her grip on the steering wheel. “Believe me, being the stepsister of you is the worst thing that could happen to me. I have no desire to join your stupid family. It’s one big embarrassment after another. I see why your mom left.”

          Not okay. I stare daggers at the side of her face. “God, just shut up, Ellie. Shut. Up. At least my mom loves me. Where’s your dad? When was the last time he talked to you? Stop trying to make me feel bad, it’s not gonna happen. You should know by now who you’re dealing with.”

          Ellie grows quiet beside me. I almost feel bad. Except I don’t. If she was sweet and nice and good, I wouldn’t be so harsh. But that’s the thing, I’ve been exposed to her long enough to know that she isn’t any of those things, despite what she makes you think. She’s just another one of us: conniving, sneaky, and ruthless. The only difference is that she hides behind a good girl mask instead of owning up to it like I do. At least I’m open about the fact that I’m cold and merciless. People who hide behind masks or pretend to be something they’re not infuriate me. I can’t deal with fake people.

          We arrive at the beachfront and Ellie parks her car at a spot reserved for family of the bride and groom. She doesn’t even turn the car off before I have the seatbelt peeled off of me and bolt outside, away from stupid Ellie. Besides, I think her perfume is giving me a headache.

          My hair falls down my back in knotted tangles and brown clumps, still dampened by the chlorinated water of our pool. The sun warms my tanned legs and the light cover up I’m wearing is slipping off my shoulder to the one side a bit. I leave it.

          Scanning the area around me, I notice a procession of people milling about near the outdoor wedding reception on the sandy surface of the beach. I can’t help but think how strange it is to see people all dressed up just to sit on a hot and sunny beach and pretend like this is a moment that they actually care about. Heck, I’m the daughter of the groom and I don’t even care.

          I try to pick out someone who I know, but almost everyone is a stranger with the exception of a few of Kristen’s snobby family members who I met a couple weeks ago. The only person on my dad’s side of the family who’s here is his sister, Sharon. His parents are both dead, so she’s basically all he has. She can be a little wild at times, but I like Aunt Sharon.

           I find a sand dune a little ways away from everything and take a seat, my eyes wandering over to where a tent has been set up where Kristen is no doubt hiding out in, fussing over her hair and makeup. The thought makes me clench my jaw and I start picking up handfuls of sand and watching as little particles trickle back through my fingers like an hourglass just to keep my mind occupied.

          A woman who I recognize to be Kristen’s mother is beaming over Ellie and bragging about all of Ellie’s wonderful achievements to a group of people pretending to look interested nearby. I briefly wonder how proud she would be to find out some of her precious granddaughter’s other “achievements”. The thought makes me smile to myself. If I wanted to, I could ruin Ellie. I really could. But sometimes, it’s more fun holding the information to yourself than sharing it.

          I scan the area for Ryan, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Probably hiding somewhere taking a few hits of weed, I think to myself as I stare out at the seemingly endless ocean. Everyone starts taking their seats in front of the white arch draped in a lilac canopy with white, pink, and red roses dotting the whole thing, all of their backs to me as they look out at the sea and await the arrival of the bridesmaids and groomsmen to kick off the event. As I sit here in complete solitude, I realize how isolated I feel. I hug my knees to my chest and continue sitting at my place on the sand dune, an outcast at my own father’s wedding. My heart beats loudly in my chest as I see a bridesmaid peek into the tent behind the whole thing where Kristen is located and then duck back out and shoot a thumbs up to someone standing beside my dad underneath the arch who I realize is the pastor who will marry them. All of the bridesmaids and groomsmen are gathered together and I’m confused as to why they haven’t yet started when it occurs to me that they are waiting for me.

          I clear my mind and stand up, brushing the sand off my butt and the backs of my legs, and casually trot over to where a line of five other women, Ellie included, are standing in the same exact lilac dress. It’s obvious that they’ve all worked hard to make themselves look perfect for the event, and suddenly I’m glad that I’m not wearing some stupid dress that Kirsten picked out. She can steal my dad and my house and our money and anything else she wants, but she can’t steal away my pride.

          “Oh my God, honey, what are you wearing?” one of the ladies who I think is Kristen’s best friend but I can’t remember asks me, horrified. “And why are you all wet? Were you swimming?”

          I shrug and nod my head carelessly.

          “Well we don’t have time to get you ready now,” another woman stiffly proclaims. “What are we going to do?”

          “She’s just gonna have to go down the aisle like that.” Ellie shrugs. “Nothing we can do now.”

          “Kristen is going to have a conniption,” the first lady mutters.

          I hold back from rolling my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, ready to get this ridiculously unnecessary wedding reception over with. I mean seriously, who throws a wedding ceremony for their fourth marriage? Can’t you just settle for the legal documents and maybe a date night at a fancy restaurant together by now? Weddings are supposed to be a beautiful thing, but there is nothing beautiful about this one. I mean sure, the decorations with seashells and roses with lilac accents look nice against the picture perfect Florida beach, but there’s no love, despite what my dad and Kristen say this next hour. My dad just wants a wife around and Kristen wants the perks of being a Finnegan. But just you wait; they’ll be divorced soon enough. It’s happened before.

          Someone gives a signal to start, and then the bridesmaids are suddenly whisked away from the tent and over to the back of the ceremony, all in a line. I’m the second-to-last one in line. The four women in front of me start parading down the aisle next to their designated escort and I follow them lifelessly, my mouth set in a tight line and my face unsmiling, unlike the rest of them with their bleached grins against their fake tans. I don’t even so much as glance at my escort, though he’s walking a little too close to me for comfort. I look around and try to pick out familiar faces, but there are only a select few. The rest are strangers, most likely invited by Kristen. They’re all cooing over how beautiful all the bridesmaids look.

          And then they see me.

          You can hear whispers collectively echoing everywhere. What is she wearing? Who is that girl? Oh, that’s the groom’s daughter, Opal. Who does she think she is? Does Kristen know? If that were my daughter, I’d . . .

          I ignore them and smirk to myself. Attention was always something I managed to have an abundance of. I’m no stranger to being the central focus of an important event. I stand straighter and strut behind the rest of them. They’re probably jealous of the fact that I can rock a bikini and they can’t. I near my way to the front and finally look up at my dad, who is staring at me trying to keep his cool in front of everyone while giving me a face that secretly reads you are in big trouble and we will discuss this later. I smile sweetly at him. Daddy’s little angel.

          The bridesmaids line up to the left of the arch and then I zone out, debating on what to take with me to Paris. I should probably take that cute new chiffon dress I bought online last week, but what if it gets wrinkled in my suitcase? And I should probably check the weather again to make sure it’s not too cold. I mean it’ll be much colder than Florida, duh, but as long as I bring cute sweaters and scarves I can make it work.

          I finally tune back into the wedding just as the last groomsmen and best man, Ryan, takes his place on the opposite side of the arch. Looks like he was able to hold off on getting high today after all, I think to myself when I realize that he looks composed, something you don’t see with him much these days. The flower girl finally starts walking down the aisle, slowly letting little handfuls of rose petals flutter to the ground. I know I’ve met her before, but I can’t for the life of me think of how Kristen knows her. Niece, maybe?

          I pick at my nail polish and try to imagine this day the first time around. Was there any magic that day, or was that wedding just as dull and unimpressive as this one? It’s hard to think of anything associating with my mom as unimpressive. Except maybe my dad.

          The flower girl finally finishes throwing rose petals down on the sand and then everyone turns to watch Kristen as she begins to float down the aisle with her dad glued to her side. She’s wearing a big smile that shows off her obnoxiously whitened teeth and her floor length sparkly white dress blows softly in the wind. She looks pretty, but nothing out of the ordinary. The whole wedding is nothing out of the ordinary. I scrunch up my nose in distaste. I’m not sure what I’m picturing, but someday I want my wedding to be something different and special. Just to mix things up. I don’t want to get married at a church or on a beach or in someone’s backyard, because that’s what everyone does. I’m still trying to determine what wedding-worthy place would meet those standards.

          Kristen is smiling at everyone she walks by and then her eyes trail over to where I’m standing. Her smile flickers and for a second she looks furious as her eyes rake my exposed body that’s lacking a particular lilac dress, but that only lasts for a second before she realizes that people are watching and then she’s right back to smiling like it’s completely normal for her almost-stepdaughter to stand in front of her wedding looking like she just got out of a photo-shoot for a bikini ad.

          She finally meets my dad next to the pastor and then it’s one of those overly cliché moments where they are only aware of each other’s existence. I watch my dad who stares adoringly at Kristen and suddenly I’m thinking about my mom and how he used to look that way at her. It all seems wrong how my dad once said these same vows to my mom and broke those, and then broke them again with another woman, and then broke them again with another woman. Do these vows even mean anything to him anymore?

          Probably not. Which is why I say that this marriage won’t live to witness the first anniversary. Definitely not the second one. Not that I can say I’m disappointed. Ellie and Kristen are not the kind of people I need lingering in my life. They’re temporary roadblocks, just like wives two and three.

          My eyes skim over each individual face who watches the wedding and the different reactions really captivate my attention. Of course the direct family members are all bearing dopey smiles or shedding a few tears (mostly Kristen’s mom), but the friends and acquaintances mostly seem to look bored, particularly the men. Figures. Boys don’t care about love or happy endings. All the men I’ve ever known have been direct examples of that. Take my dad, who can’t seem to keep a marriage if his life depends on it. Or my brother, who hasn’t dated since the eighth grade and he’s now a freshman in college. And don’t get me started on the boys at school. They’re immature and ridiculously selfish, not to mention the most unromantic idiots I know.

          Love is beautiful, but I don’t want to kid myself; it doesn’t exist. Maybe that’s why I don’t go searching for it. I mean when I date someone, it’s fun and the kisses are nice and the dates can be cool, but there is no love. It’s just something humans convince themselves they need and pretend to have. I’m not looking for love, because I know from experience that if that’s what you do, you’ll end up entirely unhappy. No, I’m looking for success. Prosperity. You don’t need love to be successful.

          My dad and Kristen are just starting their vows when I feel a tickle resonate within my nose. I scratch at my face in hopes of relieving the unbearable sensation, but it refuses to subside until I’m making that ridiculous face—you know the one—right before I have to sneeze. And then it explodes out of me so loud that every disapproving eye is suddenly casted right toward me again. “ACHOO!”

          I take the opportunity to fold my arms over my chest as long as everyone is watching in order to make a point that I’m not intimidated by all of the judgmental stares pointed my way, smirking to myself a bit when I see a look of irritation on Kristen’s face. But it’s not like I could control it or anything, so I don’t see why she’s so peeved. Does she honestly think I’d fake a sneeze just to get attention? Whatever. I don’t care what she thinks. She’s not my mom; she doesn’t own me and she definitely doesn’t concern me.

          Besides, I have something on her that would make her get down on her knees begging me to agree to forget about this whole fiasco if she does as well. I know the real reason she’s getting married to my dad. And let’s just say that that reason isn’t love. Not that I can say I’m surprised.

✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★

          As soon as the vows are over and the groom has kissed the bride and blah blah blah, my dad and Kristen stroll off into the sunset (or the late-afternoon sun, same thing) to take pictures down by the ocean and to throw the bouquet to one lucky and nauseatingly eager woman. It’s the same thing I’ve always seen. I never understood the bouquet throwing ritual, anyway. Like catching a bunch of flowers determines your romantic future. Please.

          I sit away from the group on my special sand dune—I even finger-traced my name onto the surface so it’s basically mine by default—and wait to go home and pack for Paris. The beach is starting to clear out, thankfully, and the ensemble of chairs are being thrown in the back of some guy’s truck, their purpose having been fulfilled. I hug my knees to my chest and look down at my legs, which look even tanner than they did this morning. At least one good thing came from this.

          Soon enough, my dad and Kristen finally fend off Kristen’s family and march over to where I’m sitting, their faces no longer bearing the happy newlywed smiles they’ve been sporting all day. I squint up at them, my expression impassive. I already know what’s coming.

          “Opal, we need to have a talk,” my dad immediately announces, towering over me in his white tuxedo. I cringe; white tuxedos are not my thing. Classic black all the way.

          “Yes, father?” I ask him innocently.

          He shoots me a threatening expression and I press my lips together. My dad doesn’t yell at me much, but when he does, he usually means business. “Opal, I am very disappointed in you.” I drop my gaze and focus on the sand between my toes and notice the polish is beginning to chip. Oh well. I’ll redo them when I get back from Paris.

          “Why would you do this to me, Opal?” Kristen contributes, and I can feel her eyes boring a hole through my head. I refuse to look at her and mentally tell her to screw off. “You knew our wedding was today and you had plenty of time to get ready, but you chose to just do whatever you wanted. Why? How could you do that to me?” She starts to sound choked up as if she’s actually crying and I grit my teeth. Those are not real tears.

          I finally stare up at them, my face looking bored, if anything. “Must have forgotten, sorry,” I mumble unapologetically.

          “Opal,” my dad practically yells. “I’m not playing games here.  It’s one thing to almost make not only yourself late but Ellie too, but it’s another to disrespect your stepmother and embarrass her the way you did. And the fact that you invited so many people over when you knew how important today was. What were you thinking?”

          Now my dad and Kristen are staring at me expectantly, awaiting some kind of monumental confession that will begin the mending process and bring our family together. After all, what kind of inclination of our new family’s future would that be if we’re already falling apart at the seams and it’s only day one? I open my mouth and close it as I see Ellie and Ryan standing behind my dad and Kristen. When did they get here?

          Finally, I pull myself together and shoot my dad an unremorseful look. “Well,” I begin in an airy tone, “I was thinking that today is the first day of spring break and what better day to have everyone over than today? And let’s not kid ourselves, Dad, this day isn’t important. Today just marks the beginning of a countdown until wife number four is out of the picture. No offense, Kristen.” I shrug my shoulders at her in faux apology. She looks ready to slit my throat, and I not-so-discreetly bring an arm that’s resting on my knee and wrap it so my hand is resting on my opposite shoulder and my chin is resting on my arm, protecting my throat from her irritating glare.

          “Opal, how dare you say that,” Kristen spews at me, her eyes slightly watery. I know it’s all for show, so I don’t really feel bad or regret what I said. “You just ruined our wedding and you have the nerve to say something like that to me. Seriously, kid.”

          I look up and narrow my eyes at her. She did not just call me “kid”.

          “I can take it from here Kris, it’s okay,” my dad soothes her. She nods in understanding and then it’s left to my dad to take the reins and try to round up our family and get us going in the right direction. As if my dad is capable of such a task. “Opal, I don’t know what to say to you right now. It doesn’t seem like anything I say matters anymore. You continue to do whatever you want and you think that Opal’s way is the best way, but you need to start accounting for other people’s feelings. If you think that you can go about life disregarding your obligations to do whatever you want, then maybe I’ve failed you as a parent. But what you did today, showing up in a bikini to pose as someone important in Kristen’s life and my life on our big day, along with only showing up because Ellie practically had to force you, that was totally disrespectful and uncalled for.”

          I notice that Ellie is smirking off to the side and I want to slug her. Can’t she just back away for even, like, two minutes without trying to destroy my life? Of course not. She’s obsessed with the idea of taking me down; she’s been that way since our parents started getting serious. And if I’m being honest, she’s not the first person in Florida who’s tried to ruin my life to make theirs better. But you see, that’s the thing. My name is Opal Finnegan, and if you try to mess with me, you’re asking for a death sentence.

          Then I look over at Ryan, who looks bored and a little annoyed, if anything. He’s looking up and down the beach like he wants to just get away and I don’t blame him. I want to get away, too.

          “I should start accounting for other people’s feelings? What about you, Dad? Because last time I checked, no one asked if this wedding was okay with me. And don’t lie to yourself, I am not someone important in Kristen’s life, nor is she in mine.”

          “That is enough Opal! We’re going to finish wrapping this wedding up and then we’re going home and packing. And you had better bring extra warm and heavy clothes, because it’s going to be extremely cold where you’re going. Go wait in the car until we’re finished. I’m so disappointed in you right now; I don’t even know what to say.”

          He wraps an arm around Kristen and then they both leave, thank the good Lord. I’m not sure how much more of their nagging I can tolerate. I sigh in relief once they’re gone.

          “You really managed to screw up this time, Finnegan,” Ellie says to break the silence. “Way to go.”

          “I didn’t do anything wrong, but thanks for your concern, Ellie. Feel free to shut up any time now.” I roll my eyes. Under my breath, I mumble, “Gold digging, stuck up, wannabe tramp.”

          My new stepsister doesn’t even look hurt. She’s accustomed to my insults by now, I guess. Which is a good thing, because there are plenty more where that came from. “I hope you’re happy, Opal. Because someday you’re going to crash and burn and everyone who cares about you now is going to sit back and watch because you put this on yourself. You really are selfish, you know that?”

          Before I get the chance to respond, she’s gone. Good. Finally, I turn to Ryan, who’s the last one standing there, and for a second, I’m happy to have him as a brother. Maybe he’s the only tolerable one in my family, excluding my mom.

          “Hey Ry, what are you doing over here?” I ask him teasingly. “Don’t you have some of your freaky frat buddies who you can go get high with or something?”

          My brother doesn’t look amused. “Just shut up, Opal,” he mutters. “You already screwed up royally today as it is. Maybe Ellie’s right, someday this is all going to backfire on you and nobody is going to be there for you anymore.” Then he turns and walks away, too. I scowl at his receding back.

          I take back what I said; not even my brother is a member of this family that I want to associate myself with. The only one who I actually like is in a different continent on the other side of the ocean.

          I never said my life was easy.