Happy Birthday Laura!

Dear Laura,

You're getting old. You know it and as your older sister, no one knows it better than me. I wish I could remember the day mom brought you home from the hospital, but I don't. Mom and Dad like to pretend that at 2-years-old, I was too young to remember, but we both know the truth.

I hated you.

I mean, let's face it. From day one you were a blonder, skinnier, higher maintenance version of ME. Talk about stealing a girl's thunder.

And don't even get me started about Stacey popping out a mere 3-years later.

The point is, I've never fully gotten over losing my prized position as an only child. Some might say that's reflected in my, *ahem*, strong personality. But something strange has happened over the years. I started to realize that other people are WAY more annoying than my blood relatives. Sure, you stuck your fat foot through my carefully constructed popsicle stick house on purpose, you ripped the ear off my Pound Puppy Coco, you stole my favorite pink sweatshirt with a large cartoon cat printed on the front, but you also worshiped the ground that I walked on.

In spite of the fact that you and Stacey thought I was the best thing since Debbie Gibson, I spent the bulk of my formative years feeling bitter that you two were so much more talented than me. Until finally I realized that as the God like oldest sister, I was wasting my time (and far lesser talents) on bitterness. Bitterness is for losers. Smart oldest sisters USE their more talented sisters to catapult them to greatness.

Remember how you supposedly had the idea to write young adult novels together? I spent years planting those seeds. YEARS. I knew I had to be a writer and I also knew there was no way I was ever going to be able to go it alone.

Sucker.

Anyway, being the benevolent older sister, I've gone and gotten you something AMAZING this year. That's right, I contacted the folks at Publisher's Weekly and graciously instructed them to put your name first when they mentioned The Lies That Bind in their Fall 2012 Sneak Previews.

Happy birthday, my slave.

XOXO,
Lisa

P.S.

If this picture had sound you would be able to hear me whisper, "I own you," into Laura's ear.

P.P.S.
At night when we were supposed to be sleeping in our bedroom I'd make Laura put on that exact outfit and I'd call her Patrick because I wanted a little brother. And then I'd force her to make a human bridge between our twin beds so I could literally walk all over her. Even from a young I age I understood that with great power comes great responsibility.