My skis begin to pick up speed until I am no longer in control. The cool air lashes against my cheeks as I plummet even faster towards the bottom of the Alp. I close my eyes in fear, just as a familiar voice penetrates the alpine air.
“My Sister, The Serial Killer” is a strong debut by Braithwaite, an author who understands her audience and writes evocative, but relatable prose.
Reclining back into my seat, I watched an avalanche of white students in the infamous green and gold uniforms of my alma mater make their way onto the train. I waited for just one student of color to walk in wearing green and gold, and was disappointed.
As I waited for my mom to answer the phone, I practiced several different ways to tell her that I was dying.
I was not particularly fond of the Legos, but enjoyed the fact I could shape them into almost anything. When no one else was around, I would secretly use them to build dolls. Scanning our garage, I lamented the distinct lack of Christmas decorations — we had always had such a big tree back in our home country. Then, I had the best idea of the first eight years of my life.
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