I stared at you through the foggy glass window of the van. You stood straight and proud, with one hand on your hip, the other gesticulating wildly. One of the few things that made me wish you dead. The girls giggled at your every word, fawning over your beauty, the untamed hair swirling carelessly into those baby blue killers, and your pillowy, pierced lips. Their ignorance is disgusting. They didn’t mind that your speech was just that…a speech. Practiced in front of mirrors, perfected on me. You won me over, didn’t you? Why am I the only one who stays? I mark off the days on the calendar, awaiting the day that I am replaced with one of these new, naïve bubbleheads, someone stupider than me.
“He loves you.” I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned my gaze away from you. I didn’t know how to respond, aside from yelling, “You are his best friend! Of COURSE you would believe him,” but the sad thing is, I believe you too.
© 2003
