The Other Me

Chapter 1:Beginings

It was a humid August afternoon when my mom and I walked into a small, cozy hair salon in Candy Springs, Georgia. We had moved here just a month ago, and finding a stylist who could manage my curly hair felt like a small miracle. The salon smelled of coconut oil and hairspray, a comforting aroma that reminded me of home.

As we entered, my eyes were immediately drawn to a girl sitting in the salon chair, her hair being blown out. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen, with mahogany chocolate skin and jet black 3B curls. But her expression was a mix of boredom and annoyance—a mean mug that made me hesitate to introduce myself.

"Go ahead and get in the sink chair, sweetie," the hairdresser said, finishing up the last section of the girl's hair.

I nodded and made my way over, trying to avoid staring too obviously. As I settled in, the girl glanced over at me, her eyes flicking from my hair to my clothes, then back to my face. I offered a tentative smile, but she just turned back to the mirror, rolling her eyes slightly.

"So, you're new around here?" she asked suddenly, her tone a bit sharper than I expected.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "Just moved here last month."

"Figures," she said, flipping her hair dramatically. "I'm Chloe, by the way."

"I'm Haven," I said, feeling a bit awkward.

The hairdresser, who I later learned was named Miss Sheila, chuckled as she finished with Chloe's hair. "Don't mind her, Haven. Chloe just likes to make sure everyone knows she's in charge around here."

Chloe smirked, but there was a twinkle in her eye that hinted she wasn't all bad. "Nice to meet you, Haven," she said, her tone softening slightly. "Maybe I'll see you around."

From that day on, Chloe and I became nearly inseparable. Despite our different tastes—she loved attention and high-maintenance activities, while I preferred quieter, more creative pursuits—we found a deep connection in our shared experiences. Both of us had single moms who worked tirelessly to provide for us, and both of us were trying to navigate life in a new city.

In middle school, Chloe was the quintessential It Girl. She had the looks, the charm, and an almost magnetic presence that drew people to her. I, on the other hand, was more into performing arts, finding solace in music and theater. Yet, despite our differences, we balanced each other perfectly.

I remember one afternoon after school, Chloe dragged me to a boutique in downtown Atlanta. She was on a mission to find the perfect outfit for a party that weekend.

"Haven, you have to come! It's going to be amazing," she insisted, flipping through racks of clothes with practiced ease.

"I don't know, Chloe," I said, holding up a simple dress. "Parties aren't really my thing."

"That's because you haven't been to one of my parties," she replied with a wink. "Trust me, you'll have fun."

We spent the afternoon trying on outfits, Chloe critiquing each one with her usual flair. "No, no, no. This one makes you look like a librarian. Try this instead," she said, handing me a sparkly top and a pair of jeans that hugged my curves just right.

I emerged from the dressing room, and Chloe's eyes lit up. "Now that's what I'm talking about! You look amazing, Haven."

I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Okay, okay. I'll go."

The party was everything Chloe promised and more. She introduced me to her friends, and for the first time, I felt like I belonged. Despite her high-maintenance nature and love for attention, Chloe always made sure I was included and comfortable.