Kamilah was sick. It was the day after.
I was going to the living room, where we always ate breakfast. I sat down and wondered, where she was. She was there after me.
Father noticed me, and looked at me, above his precious newspaper.
"Your sister is sick." he said.
He looked at me with, and his dark eyes pierced into me. It was as if he saw right through me, and I didn't like it at all.
Carefully I took some egg on my plate. My fear was vanished, just as fast as it had come. My plan had succeeded. And it wasn't in vain. Just a few hours later, and she was already sick. How weak of her.
I smiled for myself. A whole day, without my sister to look after. Could it be more... perfect?
But it was first in the break, between English and Biology, that I saw just how good my situation was.
His voice was silken, and sweet. He sounded concerned.
"Where is your sister?"
I turned around, and looked at him. Even though I enjoyed the moment, there was one thing I was tired of. "Your sister", both Jamyl and my father had said it. I was a nobody, just Kamilahs sister. But soon, that would change.
I saw people glancing at us. What is he doing with her, they thought. I just knew it.
I sand him a perfect smile.
"She isn't feeling well."
He looked even more concerned, which annoyed me.
He got a bit closer, and talked lower, as if he didn't want anybody to hear the following words.
"Is she still not eating anything? Because I refuse to stop caring for her, no matter what she says! She should know that she is perfect just the way she is!"
He was whisper-yelling, and I just stood there, paralyzed. And angry.
But slowly I came to myself. My answer was important. Very important.
Quickly, I looked concerned.
"It's hard for all of us" I managed to say in a soft voice.
He looked down.
"Of course. I'm sorry, I am just... I just miss her."
I smiled to him.
"Of course."
I was tired of acting concerned and lovely, so I excused myself, and got back to the classroom.
Back to their glaring eyes, asking me what had just happened. I just smiled back. If only they knew.
***
Three days later. Was it just me, or had father stopped looking accusingly at me? And he didn't even talk about Kamilah. And wasn't it revolutionary, he even said "Good morning" that morning! In school, nobody looked weird at me. And you know, what's even better? Tyana didn't even push me. This was the closest I had ever come to a day, where I felt like Kamilah.
It was weird, Jamyl didn't even visit her. But I didn't dare to ask. God, no. They shouldn't remember her. This was way too perfect.
Before I got to bed that night, I looked myself in the mirror. And got a huge chock. This morning, I had been me. I was sure of it. Pale face, dark hair, green eyes. And the lipstick.
But now I saw. My face was still pale, even though I could spot some small, nearly invisible, cute freckles, like hers. My hair was still dark brown. But my eyes.
They where blue. Blue like the lake out in the woods. Blue like the sky.
Blue like Kamilahs.
