“If we were a soap opera, we would be called: ‘Rebecca‘s Creek’.

She really is like Dawson, you know. She’s the one who answers the troubling, philosophical questions of life, the one who all the boys chase after with their mouths open and tongues hanging out. She’s the one who everybody loves, the one who has the easy success and the one whom the show is named after. That leaves me as Pacey, the one who people put up with because, after all, he is Dawson’s best friend. The one who can’t go to Dawson with his problems, because Dawson has never had problems like mine and has no idea how to fix them or how they feel. I am the one who is overshadowed.

If we were a book, her name would be on the title page. My name would pop up every so often to provide some comic relief.

She is Harry Potter, the one who everyone knows, the one who everyone wants to be friends with. She is the person who’s good at what she does, who always prevails in the end. Of course, the duo would be marginally empty with me, Ron, the ever-faithful sidekick, the one who can’t ever be mad at Harry publicly, because if people noticed that, he would be forever known as 'the one who hates Harry Potter'. I am the one who is overshadowed.

If we were travelling through meadows and over mountains on a dangerous mission, the ring would be around her neck. I would be a few steps behind, catching her if she fell.

She is Frodo, the one who has always wanted to go out on an adventure, the one who everyone turns to when we don’t know what to do or which way to go. That leaves me as Sam, the one who follows Frodo because he’s his best friend, the one who carries all the baggage, the one who makes sure nothing happens to Frodo if he goes too far, the one who will not let Frodo go alone. I am the one who is overshadowed.

If we were a musical, she’d be the protagonist who everyone loves. I’d be the supporting role with less than fifty speaking lines in the entire show.

She is Galinda, rechristening herself Glinda in honor of a deceased professor, the one who everyone loves, beautiful, perky, popular. “Thank goodness” they say, glad to have such a beautiful, perky, popular person to show them the way. That lands me the position of Boq, who always manages to get left behind, who saves a dance, every dance for the prettiest girl but never gets the one thing he wants. I am the one who is, in the end, turned to steel. I am the one who is overshadowed.”

I feel a presence near me and look over my right shoulder. I am surprised; I had thought that she was busy with the AP European history notes that I myself was supposed to be doing, but there she is, reading every word I type. I bite my nails and am nervous as she leans over my shoulder to examine the words closely. I expect an angry outburst and succeeding tantrum, at least a vehement denial.

Instead, she straightens up and smiles that winning smile that makes the boys drool, “Good thing you don’t have friends like that.”

I heave a sigh loaded with relief, exasperation, frustration, and a hint of sadness. “I know, how lucky am I?” I say, knowing it’s what she wants to hear.

“Yeah,” she replies, “You have me.”

“Hardly,” I mutter, still wondering why she even bothers to hang around me anymore. Everyone else is a great deal prettier, more fun, and generally a better match for her.

“Hmm?” she questions, bent over her notes.

“Nothing,” I say hastily, switching the window to another Microsoft Word and continuing my notes. That’s all I think it is.

Nothing at all.