Dear Diary,
I swear I have no idea what's going on inside Dad's head lately.
At dinner tonight, he suddenly said,
"Drizella really loves her mother. Just like you, Ella."
Me? Like Drizella?
No. No. Absolutely not.
Dad must be overworking himself. There's no way I'm being compared to that rude girl.
.
.
.
.
.
The way Drizella looks at people is so irritating. Always side-eyeing for no reason. Cold. Sharp. Like she's sizing you up for a fight.
I thought maybe it was just me being sensitive, but apparently not.
Alice and Fairy said the same thing. They told me her gaze is weird.
"Like she's challenging someone," they said. "So arrogant. So full of herself."
I couldn't help laughing when I heard that.
.
.
.
.
.
This is insane. Absolutely insane.
Just because I refused to accept the dress and shoes her mother bought for me, she banged on my bedroom door this afternoon, yelling like some kind of street thug.
I swear, no matter what happens, I never want a sister like Drizella.
.
.
.
.
.
Prom night is getting closer.
And I'm pretty sure that rude girl doesn't even have a date.
Hahaha. That's kind of pathetic.
At the party, she'll probably just stand by the buffet table stuffing her face.
What else can she even do besides that?
***