ODETTE | MOETTI

I HAVEN'T FIT in for a long time.

It's like there's a script everyone else is following that no one's been considerate enough to share.  A script of what to say, what not to say, of how to just interact with society with ease.

The last I felt normal, — like someone who could still make mistakes, who's only fear was seeing all there was to life — like who my age said I was, I was eleven. Six years ago, at a summer swimming-camp in Ireland that had introduced me to the career I was born to do. There, I learnt the different swim styles alongside other kids and most of my favourite memories were from it.

I missed the year I'd hit the milestone of double digits. I was so much better at talking to others back then; my head didn't flood with thoughts at lingering looks that made me second-guess myself. Free-willed, not wading through anxiety with every step, I was a kid who loved to swim just like everyone else. No one looked at me like I was weird— in fact, I had more friends than I could ever remember having.

How I'd charmed everyone into liking me, remained a mystery I was desperate to solve.

It was only six weeks long, but I'd ruminated on that single summer, relived it in my dreams, rewatched it while I was daydreaming, to the point it felt like yesterday. It was like I was filled to the brim with a yearning for an experience that only existed inside my head.

Or maybe there was just something wrong with me.

". . .And make sure to compose yourself as you go back to St Everfield's. You don't only represent yourself, but the Moetti image."

At my mother's voice slipping into my right ear from where I pressed my phone to with my shoulder, I tried to calm my thoughts. Regardless of the mental effort, they seemed to rise in waves now I'd accepted her call.

I was with Lesedi, my blood cousin but soul sister, when the dreaded ringtone chimed from my pocket. Each ring seemed to pollute the air of her parent's foyer as we were making our way out the main manor doors.

Still, Lesedi had given my hand a squeeze before I answered it and said if I needed her that she'd be loading our suitcases in the Range with her chauffeur, Dube. She was only outside, on the driveway, but it felt too far as each word from my mother sent me hiding further and further into my head.

"Yes Mum."

Strengthened from practice since I was little, my voice didn't shudder under the weight of the expectations that she and Father had been stacking on my shoulders.

Besides, what else was there to say that would guarantee me safety?

I wandered the grand entrance hallI was in, suddenly unable to keep still. I forced my listless stare away from the ajar front door and on to the breathtaking art pieces hung up on the walls. Each held a master craftsman's touch, each abstract stroke, delicate but purposeful. My skin, reflected in one of the dust-free frames, was brown but I felt pale in comparison to the vibrancy of the paint before me. Pale in comparison to their potency, to their life.

I stretched my fingers out to a black, shiny frame as my mother's voice warbled down my ear. It's newness caught my gaze; I hadn't seen it before when I was last at the Ngoy's Oxfordshire residence. The sharpness of the obsidian edge bit into my fingers but I only briefly registered the prick.

How much did Aunty Botshelo pay for this? A quarter of a million like the others? More? Besides what it was, it looked worth it.

Or maybe I only thought so because of the haunting, yet captivating nature to the blue paint had managed to still my thoughts.

At the reminder, I forced myself to look away and wandered closer to the door, making sure to appease my mother with a stream of "yes mum" to each of her questions. But it wasn't enough and my heart sunk when I heard Father's voice in the background of the call.

"Remind her of who got her to where she is today."

I didn't remember her saying that he was privy to the call too. Instantly, I raked my mind for anything that I'd said that could have been misinterpreted by him. That could have came off as rude, prideful, disrespectful.

My heart hammered in my chest as she relayed his words, albeit with her own twist. "Remember that without us you wouldn't be where you are today and all the sacrifices we've made for you to be in such a privileged position. Don't waste it all and let us down this year, we want the best from you this year."

I let out a slow breath as I raked the place for something else to think about for a minute. Something else to pin my thoughts on— anything other than my inadequacy or the possibility of future failure.

"I— Yes Mum."

"What were you going to say?"

My heart jolted at my imperfect speech, blaming the lifelong graveyard of sentences in my mouth for it. "Nothing Mum."

Still, she caught the stammer and began to speak about how I must conduct myself appropriately this year.

My gaze pinged to an intricate mirror that was held above the neatly kept, umbrellastand with a hunger for oblivion. What I found in my reflection only served to do the opposite.

I saw Father in the bridge to my nose and the slopes to my brows. No matter what I did, what parts of my face I ignored, he was right there in the center of it. A part of him would follow me wherever I went— but I could only see it in my reflection.

I was looking more and more like him.

The thought made me physically recoil.

A familiar phantom pain along the scar on my calf forced me out of the white-noise that came with the realisation.

"Odette, are you still there?"

I focused on steadying my breaths like I was in the pool. It was like the glass ceiling of my dissociation had broken because of the haunting pain. I was back to drowning under my parents commands.

Thank God I wasn't having this convo face-to-face; it would have been so much worse.

"Yes Mum, I'm still listening."

But my heart was still racing like I was.

I bent slightly to rub at my covered calve. The scar set on its curve, burned and I tried to solve with a harsh touch. I straightened up when it settled to a subtle sting and looked out the doorway. My browns landed on Lesedi talking to Dube as she leant against the Range Rover and I felt my muscles relax.

I wasn't alone— I wasn't.

"I'll leave you to go and get to Everfields on time. Remember what we have said."

"Yes Mum, goodbye."

The click of her ending the call echoed in my ear and I immediately let out a sigh. My knees felt weak and my heart thud a little too quickly. I shook out my hands and focused on my breaths to center myself.

I was fine. I was with Lesedi. They can't reach me right now. I'm fine.

Letting myself soak in the facts for a few heartbeats longer, I finally slipped out through the front door.

I just needed to forget about it.

The usual English Autumn weather hit me as soon as my feet left the doorstep. Despite it being our first day back at St Everfields, the wind hadn't settled in the slightest and spread yellow leaves across the large, neatly trimmed compound. From being at the top of the stairs, I could just about catch flutters of orange in the circle driveway fountain. I readjusted the straps of the camera around my bare neck in a bid to generate some heat.

"Your hair has been looking so luscious Chamal, what's your secret?"

I wasn't surprised I'd come out to Lesedi making jokes with the man who'd been her designated driver since she was in nappies.

Chamal Dube — bald enough for his head to shine — didn't bother hiding his smile as he shut the boot to the door of the black Rover before us. "Rice water, aloe shampoo. . .and I know it might be shocking Miss Ngoy, but bunny droppings."

I stifled my laughter in a bid to hold the same air of seriousness that my cousin did. I tried, even as another cold breeze ran through the large, tended-to compound.

"Oh, really?" She tapped a self-manicured nail against her lips, instead of entering the door Dube opened for her. "I'll put Flopsie and Cottontail to good use then."

The mention of her two bunnies was enough to tip me over the edge and my laughter triggered hers. Dube took us holding onto each other in an attempt to stay upright as his sign to get us inside the car.

If Lesedi was left to her antics, we'd definitely miss the introductory assembly at St Everfields.

The Ngoy residence was only an hour or so away from the boarding school — which was why I was at hers for the last few days of summer in the first place. My parents didn't want to be bothered with the faff of getting me from the penthouse in Manchester, all the way down south. . .Even if they held positions at the school so would be heading there anyway.

My mind pulled away from the bleak topic when I registered a light pinch to my side.

"Ow." I gave Lesedi a look but she didn't look sympathetic at all and entered the SUV before I could question her. "What was that for weirdo?"

Despite her doing so to avoid me pinching her back, Lesedi slipped into the car with an ease of someone used to a life of boarding luxury vehicles. My analysis was right considering that was where she'd gained the skill from. Where the both of us had acquired it.

I was a Moetti, a name plastered on school supplies you'd see all across the world. My parents founded the company before I was born and, despite its rough start, turned it into the multi-billion pound business it was today. Pens, pencils, rulers? Moetti produced them. Exercise books, uniform, even desks and tables? We manufactured them too.

The Moetti brand didn't only cater to sixth forms and colleges, but to every level of education. Primary and secondary schools, private schools and public schools— you could bet your savings account that if you looked into any in this country, that they'd have at least one Moetti product inside.

My family's empire wasn't limited to the UK, which best explained why we were so wealthy. Which best explained why our name was globally recognised. Why it didn't phase me that my cousin and I were on our way to a boarding school that cost £90,000 a year.

Lesedi was a Ngoy, a name that held an expectation and if labelled on any mode of transport, guaranteed swift and safe delivery. The Ngoy name had surpassed Amazon's when it came to delivery a decade ago. Trucks, planes, ferries; there was a certain respect given to deliveries associated with that name.

Whether it was due to politicians trusting Ngoy vans with transferring government documents or the lines of royalties who used Ngoy services when it came to switching residences. Their dominion of the market meant they were just as, if not more, wealthy than the Moetti's.

My parents only had school products delivered by Ngoy services as both households worked alongside each other. It meant you were less likely to hear one name said without the other following after. You could say it was like a family business— if both sides only met for work enquiries instead of family dinners.

Our mothers were sisters, in fact, they and their at-the-time-boyfriends ( who would become their husbands ) had come up with the business ideas at uni where they'd all met and became fast friends. Somewhere between then and now, something had happened to cause a strain between the two couples. There were fewer family get-togethers but it hadn't managed to affect mine and Lesedi's relationship. Despite it all, we were thick as thieves and might as well have been blood sisters like Lesedi and her older sister Oaiste were.

She'd always been there for me since we were kids and gotten into countless tousles on my behalf. That didn't mean I didn't defend her honour with the same fierceness. She was my sister and there was never a time I wasn't looking up to her. Whether that was when we were six and she'd pulled a girls hair at a charity ball because she'd insulted my dress in front of the other kids, or now with her levelheadedness and ability to balance socialising and studying.

She was my first and only friend, someone who'd stuck by me despite the packed schedules my parents made me live by for the furthering of my swimming career.

She was my Lesedi.

Despite the space in the back seat of the Royce, I sat so close to her that I might as well have been in her lap. It only took three seconds before she grew annoyed at how I was scrunching up her miniskirt. The corner of my lips twitched at the success.

What cousins were for?

Still, I shifted back and put my seatbelt on before her glare wasn't the only thing I had to worry about, and her hands were.

Since today was Saturday, we didn't have any lessons that awaited us once we reached St Everfields. Attending our first assembly of the year and unpacking before our classes began on Monday, were our main tasks for the day. It meant that today was an own-clothes day and we didn't have to turn up in uniform— and, unsurprisingly, Lesedi wasn't going to let it slip by.

A dark mini-skirt stretched across her wide hips with a four gold buttons to accessorise the area. A fur jacket that matched mine — but in dark brown — hid her curvy frame but it's slightly unbuttoned state let me see her Chanel pearl necklace rest against her neck. They matched her earrings and stood out against the black. Black Gucci sunglasses sat on the top of her head and matched the same-coloured claw clip that held back the top half of her knotless braids.

Of course she finished off the look with her black YSL heels and bag. She'd told me she was going for Cindy Kimberly but I had no clue who that was. What I did know was Lesedi looked fab.

On the other hand, I wore grey wide leg dress pants, with my Prada black beanie stuffed in a pocket. The thick thur coat that Lesedi had forced me to wear, did a good job at protecting me from the elements. She'd said the silver fur coat complemented my brown skin tone, especially as I was nearing my winter shade. Didn't mean I didn't shed it with the intention of leaving it in the car; it was way too hot to wear even with my simple square-neck long sleeved shirt.

I couldn't be bothered with any accessories besides my gold wristwatch I didn't go anywhere without. Black Mary Janes on my feet completed the look Lesedi had orchestrated for me.

I didn't have to negotiate with her about the the camera that hung around my neck; she knew about my tendency to immortalise moments that I wanted to treasure. Since this was our last first day, she knew I'd take a bunch.

"I know it's a short ride," Lesedi failed to sound innocent as she angled the question towards the middle-aged man. "But did mmê or rrê leave any snacks for us?"

I had always been a little jealous of her fluency in Setswana. Her parents had taught her their shared mother tongue alongside English when she was young, not thinking for a second that it was inferior. I wish I could say the same for my own.

Still, by now — under the guidance of my older cousin Oaiste and Aunty Botshelo all these years — I knew enough to add to and follow conversations. Certainly enough to know Lesedi was referring to her parents.

"Check the cooler little Lephôi." I caught his smile in the rear window.

Little Dove, that's what he called her when the affection he held for her crested.

She shook her head like she always did, but the lift to her lips unveiled her true feelings. She didn't wait any longer to rummage through the mini-fridge the custom-made car held in place of a door to her right.

"Bingo." She sat back with a fruit spread and pot of honey in her hands.

Our favourite — swimmer-friendly — snacks. You could never go wrong with cold fruit.

"Now, will you buckle in Miss Ngoy?"

I glanced out the window and noticed we hadn't moved an inch since we'd gotten inside the Rover. I snorted at Lesedi's face; she of all people should have known Dube would do anything to keep her out of harms way.

"Alright, alright." She rolled her browns and clicked in her belt. "You could have started driving Chamal, there's still about five minutes of Ngoy land to get through before you'd meet any reckless drivers."

She was right, her family's compound was massive. It was in the middle of nowhere— though not to far away from neighbouring towns and London, but far enough that they had privacy and as much land as they wanted. I was jealous of their main residence sometimes, I loved the clean air and greenery more than the steel and stifle of the Moetti Manchester penthouse.

Or maybe I preferred the love that was sewn into this estate rather than the loneliness that was soaked into the very structure of the home. Every foot I took in the building made it seep into my shoes and leave my socks with an uncomfortable feeling.

To shift my thoughts onto other things while Lesedi was busy with setting everything up to her likes on a platter, I pulled out my phone. It was an unhealthy habit of mine to scour the internet for latest articles on me in my free time. But it meant it was second nature for my fingers to open Safari and type in my name into the search engine.

The one at the top of list was one I'd already read this morning. Still, I thumbed through the online article to mindlessly see if there were any edits made since I'd last checked. It was far from beneficial, but in moments like these, I needed it.

Because, despite it all, at least I had my swimming to show for.

Before I could get to the end of the article, an elbow dug into my side.

"Ow." I gave my cousin a look but she didn't look sympathetic at all. "Again? Are you actually weird? What was that for?"

I glanced over on her side of the backseat to see she'd divided the fruit on the platter and had the honey jars open and waiting for us to dig in. She didn't let me ignore her gaze for long; she knew how to read me best and I was only a little irritated that she didn't leave me to my blue feelings.

"Strawberry?" I didn't know when she'd pierced the fruit with a skewer and dipped it in honey, but I accepted it from her with a thanks. "So what's up Odey? Normally I'd be fighting for my life to have get a hold of one of these."

Her round eyes were soft and my chest warmed at how she was always there for me. I looked down at the pierced berry and rotated it so the honey she'd drowned it in wouldn't fall.

I blessed it — and the rest of the food — before sticking it in my mouth, and giving myself time to think of my response.

"I dunno, just. . ." I took a deep breath and let everything come tumbling out; she never judged me at my rawest. "I thought since today's our last first day, they'd do somet, y'know? Nothing unrealistic. I even thought when Mother rang she'd give some words of encouragement, maybe even call to ask how I was feeling. . .or maybe I was the unrealistic one."

I hated the way my voice wavered with emotion on my last sentence and my nails bit crescents into my palms. I winced at the memory of the river of hope that had flown through my body when her number lit up my phone. It had quickly dried up when the conversation was focused on my imperfections.

I was more than grateful when Dube turned on the radio at give us some privacy.

Why was it that whenever it came to my parents, I always felt so—

"You are not weak Odey," was the only warning I got from Lesedi before she tugged me into a tight, fluffy hug. "We can't cuss, but if I could, you'd know exactly what I'd use to describe them."

I did. Especially since my dad and Lesedi got along as well as Man City and Man United fans did. Maybe even worse.

No, definitely worse.

I wasn't sure when it started, but whenever they were in each other's proximity, an argument was always bound to happen. Whether from Lesedi wanting to address his methods in raising me up, or him critiquing the faults he believed she had. It never ended well, and with our mothers' weakening bond, led to less get togethers outside of public events.

"It's normal to hope babes. I hope everyday that they'll see the error of their ways, apologise to you and become better people." Her smile didn't meet her eyes but her words made me feel like I wasn't crazy, that I wasn't wishing for too much.

She shook her head and I was reminded of how much I loved her inability to stay down for long.

"They're not main characters, so let's not think about them any longer." She stabbed a toothpick into a mango chunk and held an empty toothpick out to me. "Time to discuss our enemy."

I burst out laughing at the way she'd phrased it, but I knew who she was talking about all the same: Phoebe Remington. Our, part-Greek, fellow swimmer on the St Everfields award-winning team. And now, our captain.

Dube lowered the volume of the classical music slipping through the speakers to raise a brow in the rear-view mirror. "Is this the same girl you've gotten into fights with before Miss Ngoy?"

My cousin waved her french-tipped fingers like it was nothing for him to worry about. "Well, you can't really be enemies with someone if you haven't tussled before Chamal."

Our driver just nodded and didn't bother hiding his chuckle— and neither did I. Lesedi sure was something, but I wouldn't trade her for the world.

I picked up a strawberry from the fruit platter, ignoring her knowing-look. "If you're asking how I feel about not being chosen for captain: honestly, I'm glad. I doubt I could handle the pressure from our teammates and the parents."

I let her stew on my truth for a few moments before adding with a small smile. "They added me to the running against my will, so the better question is, why didn't you run for it Les?"

Her expression made Dube and I laugh.

"You know why."

I didn't, not really; she could do anything she put her mind to. She rolled her eyes at my raised eyebrow but didn't give me an answer.

"Well I think you'd have just as much a chance as Remington if you applied. Sure, you don't make swimming your whole life and that's not a bad thing. In fact you're incredible at balancing your education, social life and still managing to end up on a podium every time."

I popped another strawberry devoid of honey into my mouth, while I searched the side compartment by my door as Lesedi stewed in her thoughts. I never rushed her into speaking, or voicing something she was working through in her mind; there was nothing worse than feeling rushed to process every emotion swirling in your chest.

Once my fingers closed around a familiar bag of nail care products, a smile tugged up my lips. A quick glance outside the window proved we were on the motorway, which meant there was more than enough time for a certain someone to relax by painting my nails.

I slowly unzipped the pouch, ensuring that I was making as much noise as possible. I counted the seconds that went by in my head.

I didn't even manage to reach three when Lesedi swiped the bag with a faux-offended expression. "Odey! I just know you weren't going to pass up the chance of having me do your nails."

I surrendered my hands by placing them in her lap. "Of course I won't; Father's not here to see them, is he?"

Her face soured before she could hide it. "He's always been so weird about your femininity babes."

You could say that again.

I caught sight of my short hair in the window of Lesedi's door. It was a result of wanting to go natural after having of damaged hair for years ( from relaxer that Father loved to enforce ) and the difficulty of finding a swimming cap that was suited for afro hair.

Personally, I loved it short. I didn't regret sneaking off school campus with Lesedi to get it cut before the summer holidays. However, my dad's opinion on it was clear. Especially since he hadn't looked me in the eyes since I'd got it all chopped.

I shook my head of the past and noticed Lesedi had pulled out a dark grey bottle of polish; a matching shade to the stripe on my tech suit I wore at competitions. "We need a new topic, so I'mma start talking about teachers. Who d'you hope you don't get?"

I let myself be distracted by her uniform strokes and skill before I replied. "Ms Thatcher for a bio, we both know I nearly didn't make it though Lower Sixth because of her."

Lesedi's face told me I'd talked her ear off about the brunette enough times that she completely understood where I was coming from. It just seemed like she had it out for me and I couldn't work out what I'd done wrong.

"For your mental health, I hope you get Stafford babes."

I hope so too.

"I know she's not a teacher," I met her eye and had to withhold my smile from the person I knew she'd mention. "But since she's our captain now, I'm going to have to say Remington. I really hope Coach takes charge of our practices."

I tried to hide my laugh with my other hand but since we were so close, there was no use. If she hadn't seen me let it out, she would have definitely heard it.

"I know that face, and I'm telling you she's not living rent free in my mind." She caught my grin and I could see it in her eyes that if she wasn't doing my nails, she'd shove me. "I'm just thinking about all the fights we've had— verbal and physical. I don't know if she's matured enough so they'll happen less."

Even Les knew it was fanciful to think there'd be zero fights. I almost snorted.

"Well, d'you think she's wisened up?"

My cousin was in the middle of switching the hand she was tending to when she pulled a dirty look that had me chortling. I knew her face wasn't at me, but at my words.

"Like heck she'd wisen up." She rolled her eyes and muttered something about 'girls who are clearly masochists'. "If I catch her picking on you this year, I won't take it."

The half-smile on my lips faded. That was what had her pressed, out of everything Remington did? Not any of the things the blonde did to wind her up? Like the sly name-calling that was always too quiet enough for Coach Marsh to hear, or the annoying little things like stepping on toes and harshly brushing by Lesedi when no one was looking?

"Les, I'm fine. I swear down. I don't even hold a second thought about what she does."

She put a lid on the varnish bottle with a murmur. "Well I do. You shouldn't be treated like that from. . ."

She trailed off but I knew her mind and I knew she was going to say all sides. She was referring to how there was always someone on my case.

To be honest, I tried not to think on it. After I turned eighteen in January, I could do whatever I wanted. I'd be able to access all the money I'd won in my swimming comps all these years since my parents would lose legal control over my bank accounts. I'd be free to move out and live my life without fear of sustaining myself.

"Les. I know me saying it's fine won't change your mind, so let's put everything to the side for a minute. Take pics of the nails you've done for me."

Her lips twitched and I nudged her with my knee to get a full smile on her black-lined lips. "I should lowkey start a business on the side, shouldn't I?"

I kissed my teeth and mimicked her, "'Shouldn't I?' as if I haven't been telling you to start one since year ten. You could be making dough from the kids at school but no—"

She erupted into laughter a second before I did; we both knew she needed no extra cash. Still, I knew she had the potential to make a business out of the skill if she ever wished.

Making sure her hands were still as they angled my camera, she took a couple of shots before giving her work a satisfied nod. "How long have we got Chamal?"

I waved my hands in a bid for my nails to dry faster. "You should really get a UV lamp."

Lesedi gave me a non-committed hum while she fed me a strawberry as if I hadn't told her multiple times.

I squinted at her and tried not to laugh. "Still, thanks Les, I love them."

Dube watched the interaction with a smile. "In answer to your question Miss Ngoy, there's around thirty minutes— you two think you can keep yourselves occupied until we arrive?"

Lesedi mirrored the lift to his cheeks before throwing a glance at my camera. It alone told me that keeping "occupied" involved it— and I didn't have any complaints for the polaroids I'd later print out and slap in my ongoing album.

"I'm sure we can think of something."

EL SPEAKS !
↬ helloooo my beautiful babes!
first chapter is finally here! i've decided on updating once every two weeks since i have mocks on the way and don't want to flop them 😍 to make up for it most chaps are in the 4k to 6k range ( i didn't mean to make them this length it just happened 💔💔 )
   pre-rewrite babes,, you might notice some tweaks but be prepared for even more in the next chapter starring bbg kaede ☺️
   i really hope you enjoyed the chapter, please like vote and comment lovelies 🫶🏽

( posted; 25/11/23 )