by Aurianna

Created on: November 10, 2008

Warm, patchy sunlight filtered through the golden and brown autumn leaves, casting a muted yellow brightness around us as we picked our way carefully over the forest floor. A soft breeze rustled the branches over head and left a slight chill in its wake. I was very grateful now for the heavy black turtleneck sweater I'd dug out of the trunk of my car.

A few steps ahead of me, my sister, Delia, stopped suddenly to struggle with a thorny shrub that had caught at her feet. I halted behind her, watching silently.

Delia and I have never really gotten along very well. Growing up, we'd had the constant battles of sisters who are five years apart. I was always her "annoying little sister", and she was, basically, my hero; of course she was, because she was just so...cool. When I was a gawky, gangly teenager, she seemed so poised, so together. I wanted to be around her all the time, maybe pick up a few hints, but she would never let me tag along with her and her friends.

Now, a decade later, Delia suddenly needed me. It was almost laughable to me, really, but I've never been good at saying no to anyone who asks me for help.

Which was why, on this beautiful Indian summer day, I was knee-deep in the sort of debris that litter forest floors; branches, twigs, bushes, and the inevitable thick carpet of pine needles. My Jimmy Choo knee-high leather boots were not particularly suited to this sort of thing, and I suppose, really, neither were my Seven jeans. The only practical item of clothing I wore was the turtleneck, and that had been stolen from Delia years ago.

After a few moments, Delia freed herself of the thorny shrub, not seeming to notice the way it had torn into her khaki cargo pants, and firmly setting one white-sneakered foot in front of the other, she walked on.

I tried, as we walked, not to feel a smug sense of satisfaction. Somewhere during the past few years, we'd reversed roles; I was now what would be considered stylish, cool, collected. I worked in New York City, writing for a magazine, and kept up with the latest fashions. I was the ultimate business woman, I thought with a faint smile. And Delia was...well, she was different, too. Her hair was short and messy, her clothes often were loose and unflattering. Of course, when she had the baby a few months ago, that hadn't done anything for her either. Except that she now had a certain glow about her that I could never emmulate if I tried.

Delia shopped at WalMart, and I wore designer clothes. That was hysterical

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