Mel Day had to be the most girly girl ever. Her bffs, Alli and Tara (twins of the town), got second place. Mel, or Meladonna Kate Day, wore heels and dress most days. Other times she would have a skirt on. But she mostly looked like a Marie Claire model. Alli Foster, aka girl 1, worshipped Mel. In return, Mel gave Alli fashion tips and second best clothes from Hollywood. Tara Foster hated being girl 2. She had to worship Mel to get a belt, yet Alli had to say something nice to get a dress. Unfair! And me, I hated being girl 1000000. Like Mel would ever see me as a person. Mel saw me as a bug, flying around and bugging her. I was a bit nerdy, with Harry Potter glasses and a top spot in the school news. I wasn't fashionable, I didn't want to be. I do not like dresses. I like jeans and sweaters and sneakers. And no fancy costly boots for me. I was done with that. I tried copying Mel for a day, and I almost died running in heels and a tight dress. Mel snickered at my failure attempts to be her. Or just to have friends. The most surprising thing about Mel is that a girl like her can be my older sister. Oh and the fact that she died and came back to life two years ago.
It all happened 3 years ago. She was 14 and beautiful. I was 12 and not. I was a middle school baby, just out of elementary school. She was the most popular 8th grader and she was super excited to get even higher on the food chain by being a 9th grade superstar. She was wearing a dress with a new purse and shiny high heels. She was at the park. And, in a freak accident, she was hit by lightning. She didn't breath. She was dead. And then it was the funeral. And she woke up. "A miracle to the super natural extent," the doctors said. Magic, I thought. "Witch craft." she said. And she was right. There were forces out there. Forces that were keeping the dead-- alive.