Not Just Like Us

Chapter Two

We've Been Waiting For You

The whispers start even before orientation.

As I make myself through the school's courtyard with my dad and Aunt Laura, eyes, eyes swivel from various students as a tornado of pointing and wayward gossip gathers around me. I keep my head high and try not to trip myself as I walk, combat boots sinking into the mossy ground beneath me.

Show no weakness, I tell myself.

"Oh my god, she looks just like her!" One of the first-year students hold a hand to hiss into her friend's ear but the sound travels to me. I stare back at her, showing her that I've heard. Immediately, pink flowers into her cheeks with the flush of embarrassment and she has the gall to look ashamed. In the corner of my peripheral vision, a flash goes off and I see her friend has taken a photo of me without my consent.

My fingers itch at the prospect of holding a cigarette. In my purse, tucked into the middle flap is a pack of Marlboro slims. It's my very last pack. I've never gone into the habit of vaping while Odette has- sorry, had. The sugar clouds always make me nauseous but normal cigarettes tend to calm me down. The tobacco makes my head clear.

I long to rummage through and pull one out. Holding one in my fingertips would ease me, slipping it through my puckered lips, lighting it with casual cadence- No. I'm still around my family. I quieten the thought and stroll forward towards the opening gates.

Let them talk, I think to myself, ignoring the pointing and whispers. I quickly glance down at my outfit, appreciating my leopard-printed silk shorts and shrunken white tank, which I pair with a white faux fur coat that originally belongs to Odette. It's a far cry from my usual cargo pants and baggy sweater but I know I have to stand out if I want to survive at a place like Briarwood.

I feel like Odette would've been proud. She has always been the fashionista out of the two of us, a self-proclaimed thrift queen of our neighborhood. We weren't the wealthiest people around, so she was an expert with make-doing with what she had; sometimes upcycling clothes she had found in estate sales and the salvation army to her taste.

Odette was never afraid of bold fashion choices; she wore a lot of men's clothing, vintage fur, loud prints, and oversize shirts. In fact, when we were fourteen, Odette had started the trend of wearing boys' boxer shorts when she'd worn a pair to Melissa Kane's birthday party with a vintage CBGB T-shirt and red cowboy boots. By the next afternoon, it was nearly impossible to purchase a pair of guys' boxer shorts in our entire small town of Connecticut, Maryland.

Regardless, after I've made the decision to attend Briarwood, I know to properly investigate my sister's death I had to infiltrate her old friend group at Briarwood. Odette was always the popular girl wherever she went and when she got her scholarship at Briarwood, it was just a matter of time before she's part of the inner circle that ran things.

It's just part of her charm, I think. At that moment, I miss her. More than ever.

Odette has always been the it-girl. She can't help it; it's part of who she is. While not traditionally beautiful, there is just something about Odette. Men of all ages sniff after her and women are always coveting her, dreaming of the day they get to be her.

Growing up in an all-white suburb where the leggy, patrician blond beauty is all the norm, Odette embraces her exotic half-cast features with a brazen confidence I never seem to possess. Almond eyed with long, silky dark hair and naturally bee-stung lips, Odette is tall for a girl at 5'8 and even taller for an Asian. Clothes hang perfectly on her skinny slim-hipped body. She could pull off styles that make other girls look ridiculous.