Ugh. I can’t stand it. Preppy girls and their flipping perfectness. I could knock some one out! So what if I like Pink Floyd more than I like Abercrombie and Fitch? Too bad. Suck it up and go away. I always get made fun of by these kinds of chicks, they say I could ‘get a great guy’ if I cleaned up a bit. Excuse me, but I don’t think I can buy a guy. Why don’t you spend that money on your next nose job instead? ‘Get a great guy’. What a fluke. Make all the woman jokes you want boys, but I’m talking about you, too. You always go for those girls. Why is that? Apparently I’m pretty and I have a good style. But maybe it’s just because I’m annoying or don’t swim in seas of money, you go for Ms. Universe.

Oh, so this paragraph totally changes the basis of this story, but it has a point so hold your pants on (ladies *cough*). See, my ex, who shall remain nameless, is a total jerk. HE thinks that because we’ve been over since before the summer, he can flirt like crazy with my best friend. Honestly, the fact that she goes along with it is just the best part. Now, here’s where we put one and one together. My friend goes through stages, just last month, she thought she was black, but she’s about as white as Casper the Ghost’s butt. A month before that, she was emo, full throttle. And today, I walk in the hall and I see an Areopostle clothed Casper.

So here we are, third period, English. The Devil gives a lecture on being good people, ironic, considering our behavior during class is a step up from his. There they are, sitting over in the corner giggling over who stole who’s notebook (gag me) and here I am, alone, with some freckle faced cheerleader blabbing on about her favourite football player, and she’s not talking about during the game, believe me. At the end of class, I meet up with my so called best friend. She shows me the notebook and grins. How can I laugh? My best friend is the mistress of someone I still love. Oh, so now you know. I still like him, love I guess. Everyone still says we’re perfect for each other. I wish. I couldn’t tell you how we broke up if I wanted to; I guess it was mutual… but it kind of felt like we were lying to each other when we said: ‘I just don’t feel it anymore’. The sad thing is, I don’t think he was lying.. maybe I just want it to be a lie. I don’t know. All I know now is, my ‘best friend’ is must have suffered brain damage after the summer, because she definitely doesn’t remember that the one she spends every second flirting with is the one I spent hours on end thinking about.


A voice cuts into my thoughts: “Caaaaarla.”
“Hmm? What do you want, Ange?”
“Oh, I don’t know… maybe a best friend that listens to me..”
“Yeah, Yeah. We all have problems.”
“Aaaaanyways. Are you coming tonight?”
“IIIIIIIIIIII don’t know.”

I could see her becoming more frustrated at my distinct air of utter dislike for the entire idea of the uprising conversation.

“Ugh, for just one second all year can you pretend you like me?”
“I don’t know… it’s getting pretty hard. So what’s happening tonight?”
“Rick’s birthday! Duh!” She rolled her deep blue eyes.
“Oh… yeah... um… no.”
“Why not?!”
“I don’t know Ange, why wouldn’t I go to my ex’s birthday party? Oh, maybe because... hmm… we broke up!”
“C’mon. Get ready. Look hot. I’ll pick you up at 8.”
“I hate you.” I grumbled miserably.
“Love yah too, hun. I’ve gotta go.. LUNCH!”

And so, I was picked up promptly at 8:54 due to my escort’s impeccable sense of timing. Not that I minded. Off we went to Rick’s house, stopping to pick up Jeremy, the infamous druggie of the century.
Jeremy’s a cool guy so we talked a bit, and soon enough, we were in front of that house that used to make my face red and my heart beat out of my chest. Tonight, my face was probably more green than anything, but I assure you my heart was still beating out of my chest. I hopped out of the car, and was surprised to find.. the only people there were me, Ange, Jeremy and Rick! Oh no. Oh no. I was brought here to.. Jeremy? Why him? Why with Rick? OH NO! It couldn’t be happening.


“Hey Angela. Hey, uh, Carla.”

“Hi Rick, this is Jeremy.”

“Oh yeah. Hey.”

So the hey’s and hi’s went on for a minute, and then it got quiet. I expected Ange to be ALL OVER Rick by now, but she was just standing there, smiling at Jeremy. I guess her Rick phase is over now…

“Carla?” I heard a deep, familiar voice say.
“Um, hi… Rick.”
“I thought maybe you could come talk to me for a minute.”
“Oh, uh, sure… I guess we can all go inside, or..?”
“Yeah, definitely.. it’s freezing out here.”

Next, he grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.

“So, you wanted to talk?” I said, trying my best to look in his eyes. Lord have mercy, I felt like a prep that minute I swear.

“Yeah, actually. I did. I was thinking about… well, what happened between us.”
“Wait, we broke up. I thought it was end of story, no looking back.”
“Do you honestly believe that?” he smiled.
“I guess not. But you.. and Ange..?”
“Angela? You’re kidding me right?”
“No. As a matter of fact, I’m not. You two always flirting and going on, and on, and… ON.”
“Oh. So, you mean, I’m always flirting with my ex-girlfriends best friend? What do you think I’m doing when I’m not ‘flirting’ with her?
“Flirting with other girls.” I raised my eyebrows.
“Weeeell, when I’m not talking to Angela, I’m sitting there thinking about you.”
“Why do I believe that all you do with your life is talk to girls and sit around?” I smirked.
“Because hopefully that’s all you do!”
I laughed. “So what are you saying here?”
“What I’m saying is… will you give me another chance Carla?”
“Yeah. I will. But one thing. What was that notebook today?”
“Oh that? That my dear is my one hundred and one lame notes to try and get you to go out with me again. You’re little friend has been trying to get it all year. You thought we were a thing?”
“No… well. MAYBE. You two were always together.”
“Let me tell you one thing, that girl is almost as persistant as you were last year trying to get me to notice you.”
“Well, it worked. Didn’t it?”
“Both times. If you were anymore irresistible, we might be conjoined twins.”
I choked on a mouthful of pop. “Or, you know… we could just run away and get married in Vegas.”
“Yeah, I like that. We’ll go with that.” He smiled.

When I got home that night, my footsteps practically felt like I was floating. I got in my room, closed my door and sat down blocking it. When I read books, I practically gag every time someone falls in love in the end. But I guess just this once, it would be okay, if the pessimistic lead were to fall in love all over again. Just this once.