A/N: This is probably rambling and a bit redundant but I really like how this turned out so I thought someone else would enjoy it as I did.
Jealousy comes easy to Witch Baby. In her mind, everything everyone else has is much better than what she has. Witch baby will be nothing but a brooding, snarly-haired, purple eyed child. Nobody sees past the persistent frown and nobody takes the time to see past that. She's more than just a forever smileless, morose young woman, and Witch Baby wished she knew how to get people to see past that.
She was jealous of Cherokee, who had four parents that were one hundred percent dedicated to her, as if she was some sort of angelic goddess. Cherokee's platinum blonde locks and cobalt blue eyes that were frequently mistaken for gems attracted even the most stoic of men. It didn't help that Cherokee was curvy and tanned easily and had perky breasts that didn't need any pushing up or padding. Boys thought
Often, but not often enough, Cherokee would tell Witch Baby that she made roller skating look like dancing, with how she could manipulate her feet to move as fast as she wanted. Cherokee would tell Witch Baby that she knew few people with Witch Baby's sheer amount of raw coordination.
"You could start your own synchronized skate team!" Cherokee chirped, then she stopped for a moment to think about some unknown concept.
"…Do synchronized skate teams even exist?" A heartbeat passes by and Cherokee opens her mouth again to say, "You could be a trendsetter! Be the first person ever to create such a thing!" Witch Baby was forever the girl who rarely, if ever, smiled. Even she got a chuckle out of that. Cherokee's endless, puppy-like enthusiasm comforted Witch Baby. Cherokee's energy was consistent and Witch Baby could count on Cherokee for a pick-me-up giggle when things truly turned bleak. Witch Baby would rather not ever admit that she cared for her sort-of sister in such blunt terms, but she'd remain silently grateful for the ever grinning girl.
Sometimes, when Angel Juan strolled by with his hair like blue-black lightning bolts, Witch Baby would find ways to take pictures of him without him getting angry. He had an ethereal sense of beauty very few people possessed, and Witch Baby wanted to capture that in as many interesting ways as possible.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a work of art?" Angel Juan asked himself one day, his hair blowing fiercely in the wind just as hers was. The only difference was that the wind through the hair of Angel Juan made him like a god that decided to saunter into a modeling studio. As a result of his random entrance into said metaphorical modeling studio, he would strike everyone in awe with his beauty. She, unlike him, looked like some sort of mutated gremlin who felt most comfortable in her room, painted an indigoish shade of blue that was constantly pasted over with articles upon articles of depressing things she found interesting that nobody else seemed to understand.
"You're the only Niña Bruja this world needs, and you're special because nobody could replace your uniqueness. Always remember that." She was definitely inclined to remember, especially since it came out of Angel Juan's mouth.