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the special one,,

Ches. Ches. Ches. She was the special one. The government didn’t think so. Not enough to put her into the gifted program at school. Nor the extra help program. She was that kid who drifted. Failing at school because she neglected to do her homework, then acing her tests, shocking teachers with her off the charts exam grades, and dreadful ‘homework habits.’ Ches was the person everyone loved. Teachers sometimes loved to hate her, but she was a people person. She’d talk to everyone. Her best friends ranged from the homeless drug addict on the corner to the most popular boy at school. She could talk about anything for hours.

And I’m her sister. Curly red hair, gray eyes, petite. I worked hard for every grade I earned, and my friends were a tight nit little group, who blended in. That always had been my goal. I followed trends, while Ches was the one wearing tutus before it was cool. I’d managed to avoid Ches pretty well. She was four years older than me, and went to boarding school, because mum seemed to think it would set her up for a successful business acquaintances.

This is the story of the year I started Ellington School. Ches was a senior, and unwittingly the most popular person there. She didn’t seem to notice people always flocked around her, worshipped her. Any normal person might feel repressed by Ellington, but since when was Ches normal. Her uniform of a gray plaid skirt, white top and blazer were unidentifiable, skirt always unpressed, top a tad tighter than was modest, blazer borrowed from a male best friend, always too large. And there was me. Uniform ironed, notebooks labeled.

Ches never was as charming to me as she was to everyone else. She called me Briody for one thing. It’s Bree. Everyone calls me Bree. Briody is so…out there. Bree is sweet. Even though it ought to be spelled B-R-I with the correct spelling of Briody, but I liked being Bree. I was always Briody Callia Alexis to Ches, and Ches loved mocking me. The way my forehead wrinkled when I was nervous, the way, I actually knew how long my skirt was supposed to be, and how I wore it that long. How I was on time, how my hair was always neat, how I wore only beige eyeshadow, no eyeliner, no streaks in my hair.

I was the good child. I went to bed in my dormitory ten minutes before curfew, I didn’t smoke in the bathrooms, or drink, or swear or think mean thoughts. I thought them. Of course I thought them, but I felt bad about thinking them. And that counts for something right? Ches wasn’t mean. I bet she thought much more pure thoughts than I did. Bet she didn’t secretly wish her lab partner would eat chemicals and die one day.

I was walking back from swim practice. The school’s pool was new and probably the nicest in the state. Heated, crystal clear, 12 foot deep diving area, and it was over all a good time to be a swimmer. Which I was. We had to have a sports elective, and swimming was the highlight of my day. Ches played field hockey with much tripping and swearing. Ches’s only athletic pursuit was dance. Ballet was her favorite. She was furious when she found out it counted as an art, not a sport. I was walking with Vivienne, My room-mate, and fellow swim team member. The fall air nipped at our bare legs, stockings on wet legs, wrinkled. I’d discovered that my first week, and had dutifully folded the black leggings in the locker room, and trudged back to my dorm with my wool skirt which was fine getting just a tiny bit damp.

Ches was walking with Tabitha. They took French lit. together, I knew. Ches’s dark hair was braided into two short pigtails grazing her shoulder blades, and she was wearing an oversized tee-shirt over leggings and looking downright cool. Tabitha with her in her eyes hair, and floppy berets, and fuzzy sweaters blew her hair out of her eyes only for it to flop again. As usual, I attempted to slink into the shadows while Ches babbled on about the new band she discovered, but Tabitha with her in her eyes hair seemed to notice me and Vivienne.

“Ches,” The friends voice was low and spacey. “Your sister, no?” Her way of speaking reminded me of times past, it seemed to come from far away. My guess was she’d just got done smoking.

Ches blinked as if just noticing me for the first time. “Briody! Come here! I was going to ask you before!” She sounded as usual like an overexcited golden retriever, caught up in the moment. I had no idea what she was talking about. Vivienne followed me timidly.

“What?” I say, quickly looking around. I hated being seen around Ches. I always had an awkward sense people were wondering why Ches came out so good, intelligent, beautiful, popular, And then, I’m me, geeky, slightly antisocial, and frizzy haired.

“Yeah, there’s a party tonight on the golf course. Tab-,“ Tabitha cleared her throat meaningfully, and Ches rolled her eyes before continuing. “A friend of mine is hosting it. You should come.” I blinked. I didn’t get invited to parties. Viv looked at me, if I went, she went, and I knew she wanted it.

“Sure.” I thought it sounded cool, but it came out squeaky. Sneaking out after curfew was a bad idea. Sneaking out after curfew going to a party probably attended by seniors, and knowing Ches’s scene some questionable behavior would probably be taking place. Viv seemed happy, I could tell. Ches looked mildly surprised but merely grinned and passed me a printed list of instructions and her and the friend were off.

“Oh. My. GOD! Bree! We’re going to a senior party!” Her blue eye’s glittered and she nearly hugged me. I was scared, but this feeling of pleasing other people was addictive, I grinned and unfolded the list. The typos jumped out at me, and my inner copy editor growled. Basically it told us to dress in black, be discreet and bring whoever we liked. Slightly after curfew, which was 10 on the dot me and Viv were still rooting though our clothes for something that was a) black and b) glamorous. Viv was pretty much settled and black gauchos and a tight tee shirt. I was wearing tight black skinny jeans, inherited from Ches when she’d out grown them, and since the October weather fairly warm, I wore a tank top the gathered at the top and was about 8 times more provocative than anything else I’d owned. I finished the outfit with black scarf Ches had bought me last birthday. I took a peek at my self in the mirror and was stunned, I didn’t look awkward and geeky, I looked pretty good, my hair French braided and makeup that Viv had forced on me.

Finally we were slipping out I was shocked at how easy it was. We were at the golf course and all I saw were people in black, carrying around cigarettes and beer cans. “Woah.” Viv’s voice was thrilled and she slipped off to talk to some friends, I poked around for a bit. I was nearly heading for home when he called me, I spun around, eyes scared.

He was perfect, dark hair tousled, amber eyes and an angular frame. We talked. He was a junior. He played guitar, and wanted to have his own band someday. He thought I was pretty. Finally people were slinking back to their dorms at two. He kissed me, it was fantastic, he told me to meet him here the next day. My heart skipped a beat. {to be continued}



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ImNotCrazy said...
Nov. 14, 2010 at 6:22 pm:
awesome story keep writing
 
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