I Wish I Was You

Claire. My sister. She was so perfect, so brilliant. The best student, the popular girl, the ideal daughter, the true friend and the perfect sister. But I hated her. I hated that she was so impeccable, that she was better than me in everything. I felt like a nobody around her. And I didn't like that.

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3. Chapter Two

Claire was three years older than me, which obviously meant she was already one of the senior students when I entered high school. And oh my gosh, was she popular or what? She was known all over the school, by students and teachers alike, as Claire Janet Atkinson, the super-cool diva and the excellent, ideal student. I have no idea how she managed to be both, but somehow, when I finally got to ninth grade, I found that she was the hottest and most popular senior student there was.

But of course, that didn't mean she had changed in the least bit as an older sister to me. She was still the kind and sweet sister I had fancied making daisy chains with. Only now she was much taller, leaner, and definitely more gorgeous than she had ever been back then. She had prominent green eyes and lovely auburn hair which flowed down her back gracefully, and she had the prettiest and nicest face anyone could have had. There was a kindness about her, something that the usual popular girls lack. She was different and special, to me and to all others at school. I guess she resembles our mother, both in looks and in character. 

But I, it turned out, resembled my demon of a father - yes, both in looks and in character. Now that I think of it I feel too ashamed. Was I really like that monster? I did look a great deal like him, with my cropped dark hair and lifeless black eyes. I also had his aggressiveness, his knack for finding the worst things in the best situation, his knack for spoiling an absolutely lovely relationship ...

And that's probably why I ended up hating my sister.    

I don't know how, okay? Nothing was ever her fault, she was absolutely perfect ... maybe that's exactly what caused this loathing for her to build up in my heart! She was so beautiful, so nice, so kind ... and look at me. I'm just a beefy, obese, ugly bitch. I suck at pretty much everything and Mum always sort of looked at me as though I was a troubled kid. Of course, she never said anything like that to me, but just the way she and Claire exchanged looks at the dinner table when I told them about my fights with other kids, confirmed this. 

Yes, I used to fight a lot with other kids. It started with me hitting the irritating boy in kindergarten who broke my pencil, and then from there I never really stopped. I would hit the girls who would tease me, I would hit the guys who called me poor, I would hit the ones who said I was adopted and could never be the sister of someone like Claire ... urgh! I hated them! I hated everyone.

Of course, my lovely big sister Claire who happened to be a prefect intervened in all my fights. She would try and talk some sense into me but nope, I would never listen. Instead I would hate her even more for siding with the other kids. She was already the perfect girl around, she didn't have to interfere in my squabbles to earn the teachers' approval now. She was such a show-off!

Then one day, I decided to avenge myself. For what, I still don't know. I had convinced myself that my sister only pretended to love me and was actually just doing it to prove what a lovely human being she was. The more I thought on this, the more it seemed true. Finally, when I was so convinced that Claire hated me, I snuck into her room and stole the project she had been working on for so many days. It was some kind of a filed report, and I could see how carefully Claire had written it in her curly, beautiful handwriting. It must be important then. Perfect. This was my chance for revenge. I shredded her thirty-pages long report at night, ripping it savagely and smiling cruelly when I imagined the look on my sister's face when she found her precious report was gone in the morning. I took the shredded pieces out and burnt the evidence. No one would find out it was me. 

But I guess I was wrong.

When Claire found out her report was missing, she was devastated like I had predicted. But she didn't cry or moan or complain or any of that. That was what was so different about her. She just simply stared at her empty file blankly. Then she stared at me and my heart lurched. Did she know? Was there any chance she knew? I watched thunderstruck as Claire stared at her file and then at me simultaneously, her eyes pained and sympathetic, as though she knew exactly what I was hiding ... I was afraid she would tell me off, but instead she just gave me that injured look and silently walked away, disappointment etched in her beautiful face.  

Whether she had really known what I had done, I never found out. And I never will either. I tried to feel happy for my plan having worked and Claire having been put in detention for not finishing her report in time, but instead I felt ashamed. Ashamed of my ignorance. That night when I went to bed, I tried to congratulate myself on my victory. I tried to hate my sister as usual, tell myself she was a bitch, but all I found myself doing was crying pathetically. Crying for being such a jerk. Crying for being so heartless. I wish I was you, Claire. I wish I was you.

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