They Call Her Love | ✔️

2: They Call Her Pocahontas

The next morning, Darcy was already waiting for me at my doorstep with a warm glazed donut in one hand and an iced vanilla latte in the other. Luckily, I was able to dash out the door before my parents could shove a bran-flake muffin down my throat.

I'm not surprised to run into Darcy, staring in awe at her black, floor-length, long-sleeved bodycon dress and chunky motorcycle boots. Even though it was approaching ninety degrees outside, the look on her face perceived an attitude that could convince anyone she was dressed perfectly for the weather. My best friend is notorious for being adventurous with her outfits - from tutu's to rainbow striped pants, I've seen her wear just about everything crazy you could possibly imagine since fourth grade. The first day of junior year shouldn't have been any different.

"Are you picking me up to go to school or a funeral?" I comment while grabbing the drink from her.

"School is a funeral" She quips. "I'm tapping my inner Jagger. Black is the new black is the new black from what I read in Forward."

I didn't even attempt to generate a response to her mentality, but instead, sip on the cold sweet liquid. Fashion is Darcy's muse - she'd been dreaming of becoming a stylist since accidentally stumbling upon a vintage issue of French Vogue in her grandmother's attic. One look at the Parisian fashion of the 1920's and Darcy was hooked on designer couture like a drug addict.

"Thank God I decided to wear these black sandals today - can you imagine the humiliation if I hadn't?" I reply sarcastically. "I would have been the talk of the town"

"Your outfit is cute," She offers before settling into the driver's seat of her Jetta, completely oblivious to my smart response. "I'm totally in love with the whole bohemian look."

I stare down at my outfit before I strap on the seat belt. I had chosen a crochet crop top that had beads of fringe stemming down at the hem and a light blue chiffon maxi skirt with the black strappy sandals. Compared to Darcy's completely out of the box outfit, I appeared ready to join Sacajawea embark on her expedition with Lewis and Clark. It didn't help that I had conveniently decided to part my hair down the middle into two french braids.

"Thanks," I answer flatly, immediately regretting my outfit decision. That's the last time I refer to pictures of Coachella as inspiration.

"Wait," Darcy pauses as we're backing out of the driveway. "Where's Faith? Isn't the braniac starting school today too?"

"Like I'd actually let her in on our morning carpool. She's getting a ride from my parents on their way to work."

Darcy widens her eyes. "Damn, was your argument that bad this time?"

"Usual dilemma - Faith thinks she's better because she's smart, I think I'm better because I am. Nothing we haven't already established."

She speaks as she chewed on her own donut. "You realize that as long as that's your argument, you'll never win, right?"

"Ex-squeeze me," I gape. "Just because I can't recite the entire Constitution by heart, or translate the Bible in Latin, or explain the evolution of time, doesn't mean I'm not better than her. I've got my own special talents."

She snorts as if I'm lying. "Like what?"

"Like..."

I pause to think, hoping something exciting would come to mind but I'm speechless when I'm empty handed.

"Exactly."

"Whatever," I wave the subject off. "All she is to me, is my annoying little sister."

"Your genius little sister. Give her some credit."

I roll my eyes at this. "The world has given her enough credit."