Little Sister Quotes

“Every time I try to process her death, it only makes it worse. Grief's like leftovers that way. Like you made this four-course meal out of your love, but they only got to eat one little bite. So now you're stuck with all this food you can't bear to throw away, and all you can do is shove it in the back of the fridge to rot, or make yourself sick trying to binge it on your own."
"Or maybe," Kostya said gently, "you could invite someone else to dinner. Someone hungry.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“Is your brother really such a surly bastard, they ask. Of course not; inside, he's a teddy bear, say I...
and then he opens his mouth.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“The maze reappeared, in ghostly blue this time, the pellets punctuated by countless miniature foods--- not only fruits but pixelated pizza slices, tiny sushi rolls, petite hamburgers. Ms. Pac-Man faded onto the screen, not in the bottom half, where she usually started, but in the central box, where the ghosts usually did. Instead of her trademark yellow, she appeared blinking, in blue.
"She's--- she's one of the ghosts?"
Maura took up the controls again. Kostya watched her move through the maze, eating everything in sight.
"It's a secret level," Maura told him. "Only available in the 1983 rerelease of the Japanese cabinet. It's called the Hungry Ghost Maze."
"So it's a bonus round? The point's just to... get more points?"
"The points don't matter in the ghost realm. To clear this level, you have to find the Happy Meal. Hidden in one of these fruits is a portal that gets you back to the real world.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy being in your big sister’s shadow for 104 years. You complained about it a lot but I know you’d have been miserable without me.
Well, I’m glad things have worked out the way they have, because you never had to be alone, Bessie
Funny thing is, though, by leaving me here by myself, you're letting me get the last word. Ooooooh, I'm not sure you would have liked that!

- Sarah L. Delany”
― Sarah L. Delany, On My Own at 107: Reflections on Life Without Bessie

“His sister sailed in, then screeched to a halt on her extremely high heels. He wasn't sure why she bothered wearing them. The stilettos were long and lethal enough to kill a rhino, and Pet would still have trouble getting on half the rides at Disneyland Paris.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“You’re relieved of duty, bachelorette. Go take thy lack of crafting skills elsewhere. You’re a disgrace to bakers everywhere.”
“Excuse me, Chantal, but have you seen my bonbons?”
Chantal laughed. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
“What my sister means to say is her sugar work is top notch.” Simone eyed the bow critically. Probably because she was the only sober one. “Unfortunately, looks like that skill doesn’t transfer to non edible items.”
― Chandra Blumberg, Stirring Up Love

“Oh, that's just what I need. To wait on all of my friends at Macy's."
"So what? You guys need the money, right?"
"There are jobs, and then there are jobs."
"You're talking to a girl who is working at a farm stand so that she can chase her dream job."
"That's different."
"Oh, yeah? How? Last I checked, Libby wanted you to spend two thousand bucks on chairs. Where's that money coming from?"
She sighs. "You and your father are all burned up about those chairs. Poor Libby."
"Poor Libby?" Classic. My mom always takes Libby's side. When Libby got a bad grade on an exam or paper, my mom would claim the teacher was incompetent, even when I'd had the same teachers and had aced their classes. When Libby's field hockey tournament was the same weekend as my clarinet recital, my mom chose Libby's tournament because, she said, Libby needed her support more than I did. And when Libby and her girlfriends ate the chocolate mousse I made as part of a project for French class senior year, my mom said it was my fault for leaving it in our refrigerator without a note. How was Libby to know?
"Mom, Libby lives in fantasyland. And anyway, if you cared so much about getting her damn chairs, you'd take a job at the gas station if you needed to." I catch myself. "I take that back. If Libby cares so much about the damn chairs, she should get a job at the gas station."
She clicks her tongue. "Sydney."
"What? Maybe it's time for Libby to grow up and realize she needs to take responsibility for things.”
― Dana Bate, A Second Bite at the Apple

“She rolls her eyes. "Great. Another shady loser. Just what you need."
"People make mistakes, Libby. No one is perfect."
She cackles loudly. "This coming from Miss Perfectionist."
"Hey---that isn't fair. I'm far from perfect."
"Oh, I know. Trust me, I've seen your closet."
"Yeah, well, maybe if Mom took me shopping all the time, my closet would look more like yours."
Libby shrinks back from the screen defensively. "Mom takes me shopping because we both like to shop. You hate shopping. You always have."
"Or maybe I never felt welcome."
"What? That's crazy. You were always welcome. You never wanted to come."
"That's not how I remember it."
Libby pulls her hair into a low ponytail. "You always think I get special treatment from Mom and Dad."
I let out a huff. "Uh, maybe because you do?"
"That's totally untrue. Like with the wedding? Dad is refusing to pay for those chairs, and he isn't budging."
"I'd hardly call that an act of cruelty. They're chairs. Their main function is to serve as a resting place for your ass."
"No, their main function is to look beautiful."
"Perhaps you are unfamiliar with what a chair does...”
― Dana Bate, A Second Bite at the Apple

“To be fair, we had this conversation when he and I were fourteen. Long before you enlightened us on the error of our anti-feminist tendencies. Still, it's a promise I've always taken seriously. Especially since, at the time, I did see you as a little sister. Obviously, things have changed since them.”
― Reese Ryan, His Until Midnight

“The veil between the Living and the Dead drew me in, guided my spirit, deposited me before the welcoming glow of--- I shit you not--- an In-N-Out Burger.
Turns out the Afterlife? Where you go when you die? It's a Food Hall.
There were good things to eat in every direction. Spirits strolled the streets with the lazy haze of tourists. They ate crepes in waxed paper; they licked swirls of ice cream. They chewed translucent strips of prosciutto folded inside newsprint cones.
My stomach growled at the sights; it moaned at the smells. Garlic crisping in foaming slabs of butter. Crusty bread, still steaming from the oven. Glossy discs of chocolate melting over double boil.
In the Hall, it was impossible to think about anything but food. Everywhere I looked, something beckoned. And as I passed a storefront--- a sweetshop, the candy arranged in the window like so many jewels--- the cravings won.
Just one bite, I thought, and pulled open the door.
Inside, on a marble counter, a black box appeared. Nestled inside were four perfect confections--- a sampler surprise. The aroma was decadent--- thick and bittersweet. I didn't even think before shoving one into my mouth.
A gourmet peanut cup.
Dark chocolate. Crunchy nut interior. Hard, thick outer shell.
A bastardization, but enough to trigger a memory so strong I nearly dropped the box.
Reese's.
Everleigh.
Halloween.
The whole reason I was there.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste