She was adopted.
Her dark skin, a coffee color among cream-colored folk, made her different. She stood out from all the rest.
At first she disliked it. To say she hated it wouldn't be entirely correct, judging by the fact that she actually loved her dark corkscrew curls and light brown skin. But she wondered -- where am I really from? Where do I belong?
Her best friend was her older brother Sawyer. A gap between his front teeth, a cowlick, and freckles. He was brilliant. Beyond brilliant. She looked up to him, more than he knew. Older than her by a year and a half, Sawyer would never know how much she adored him. Ever.
She traipsed around the house, bare feet shuffling against carpet and pale wood boards.
He was kind of a weird combination, too. Pale skin paired with black hair. Blue eyes. To say that they resembled each other would be an outright lie. Bailey often wondered why she was the only one who was different. It wasn't until later that she knew why.
She was adopted.
His downfall was his intelligence, though Bailey didn't see it that way. She wanted to be smart like him. Her downfall was her appearance, and how she felt inferior because of it.
They were both outcasts.
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