Your Friend by @((Y^!@ Allyvia (ebook reader for surface pro txt) 📕

It started with a piece of poetry signed, Your Friend. That’s what had me stumped. Which ‘friend‘? I had hundreds, hundreds of ‘friends‘, who had never been over to my house or shared a secret or stayed up late eating ice cream until we had bellyaches. There was only one friend I did that with. But none of them knew I was a covert KC Luca fan, not even Heather. Not London, or Ashley, or Tiffany. Not Brad, or Haley, or Jessica.

Saying you are beautiful is like/

wondering why Mona Lisa lost her smile/

Most natural thing in the world/

as I look into those hazel eyes/

But, it’s hard to tell you just how much I love you/

no matter the miles/

Just promise me you won’t cry, with those/

Pretty hazel eyes

The original song said blue, not hazel. And the lyrics were the epiphany of stupid lyrics, something to the equivalency of ‘Wheels on the Bus’. KC Luca always sang about his on-again off-again girlfriend, Anya Stone, who had blue eyes, not hazel. I thought the note was stupid, and kind of creepy, and made me feel as though someone was watching me. It hadn’t been there before fourth hour, taped to the inside of my locker door, when I had come to grab my Calculus book.

‘How did it even get in my locker,’ I wondered, glancing around the halls. The sound of ugly, green and yellow lockers slamming, and loud, overzealous laughter rung in my ears. It wasn’t just one person laughing, but dozens of people, just milling around. I wondered how many of them were laughing at my expression, as I read that stupid, creepy note. But I didn’t throw it away. Instead, I began folding it. That’s when I saw the writing on the back. On the other side, a poem was written, in neat, unrecognizable handwriting

It’s hard to describe/

the brilliance in your smile/

Blinding like the sun/

It’s hard to describe/

the pain in your eyes/

Hidden behind that sun-like smile/

I see what others don’t/

Even when it’s hard to look

I almost dropped the note. With each word, it seemed as though the paper grew another degree hotter, until the words were burning my hands.

Sincerely,

Your Friend

The sound of loud, clicking heels made me look up. Because there she was, in all her Mui-Mui, Rock Revival, Express glory. Heathers Gibbs, her pouty pink lips drawing into a smile as she caught my eye, strolled through the halls, looking like a goddess. Mina and Elena stood at her flanks, trailing her like they were on leashes, never more than three feet away from their exalted best friend. From my exalted best friend.

I watched, like a movie in slow motion, as heads turned and whistles blew. Guys, their girlfriends strung on their arms like boas, turned to watch their three, perfectly shaped butts; girls enviously stared down the latest fashion trends, their fingers flying through the internet on their smart-phones, to find the same top or skirt or belt; teachers frowned disapprovingly, taking in their tiny tops and micro miniskirts. I swore I saw Mr. Fitz’s meaty hand begin to cover a forming bulge in his pants.

“Auden,” Heather sang, her voice smooth like butter, although if she knew I ever compared her to butter, she’d throw a fit, “what is that? A love letter from another adoring fan?”

Her animated brown eyes, lined with purple kohl and shimmering light pink rouge, widened, and her bow-like lips drew up a saucy smile. Today, she looked like a doll, or an amplified version of the 1950s housewife, with a pretty pink satin bow tied like a headband, the bow tilted on the side of her head, her loose, chocolate curls bouncing behind her with each step. She wore a black silken shirt, gauzy so you could still see her pear shape, decorated with white dots. Jean shorts, so short you could see her pockets pulled down in the front, adorned her long legs, with pink- the perfect shade to match the bow in her hair- platform heels, as though her long legs didn’t look long enough.

I hated to admit how close she was to the truth.

“No, it’s this crazy thing,” I began airily, my tone teasing yet shaky, folding up the note and tossing it in the back of my locker, “called homework. You should try it sometime.”

Heather laughed. Not a sneer, but an actual laugh. Gripping her perfectly perky C-cups, she batted her lashes. “These are these crazy things called breasts, otherwise known as a geek’s best friend. You should try them sometime.”

I laughed, like always, even though her redundancy was misplaced, like always. Most of the geeks were too afraid to even breathe in her direction, let alone have her catch them in the act of ogling at her breasts. The funny thing was, if the guys who adored Heather knew how… socially awkward she could be at times, about a fifth of them wouldn’t even glance her way.

My mother always thought Heather had Social Issues, ever since when I told her about how, in kindergarten, during a field trip to the beach, Heather let Pat Simpson stick his fingers up a couple of her holes. And I’m not talking about her nostril holes. When I joked with Heather about the pills they advertise on TV that could smooth her out, she’d simply laugh and talk about how she wouldn’t want erectile dysfunction or discomfort urinating.

It kind of sucked being the school slut’s best friend. Heather and I both knew it- we joked about it a lot, considering the ironic fact that I was ‘The Virgin Queen’. Sometimes, I felt as though people knew me because they knew her, and had no idea I really even existed until Heather dragged me into some conversation.

“We’re not all blessed to be Baywatch babes,” I laughed, closing my locker. Heather rolled her eyes playfully and linked her pale, skinny arm through mine. It was awkward though, because she was so tall compared to me. I didn’t even reach her shoulder, me in my high-tops, and her in her platform sandals.

“I know, bask in my awesomeness,” she sighed, feigning boredom, as we began cruising the halls. Mina and Elena weren’t far behind. “Now, I found this awesome thing I want you to get me for my birthday.”

“Let me guess: something that will probably cost more than I have in my college fund,” I hinted. Heather had… expensive taste. As we pushed our way into the lunch room, the place packed and smelling of something slightly inedible, Heather grabbed two trays. Elena and Mina were stuck grabbing their own.

“Not unless you steal it.” She winked, teasingly, even though I faltered for a moment. Of course she would say that. For some reason, even though her parents were loaded beyond belief, Heather insisted on stealing things. Last month, it was a pair of Chanel glasses. After growing bored of those, she stole a bra- one with diamonds and sparkles on it- from Victoria’s Secret, even though it was two sizes too small. This week, she adorned a new pair of Buckle jeans, a pair that I knew she hadn’t paid for using Daddy’s credit card.

“No, nothing that huge. I’ll give you three guesses,” she smiled, trying her best to reassure me, her painted red lips parting to reveal white teeth. She piled her tray with salad, giving me a disapproving look as I happily took a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza. “His name rhymes with Heck, and he is walking through those doors right now.”

Turning around, my tray warm in my hands, I found myself staring down Beck Rivers.

“Oh Auden,” she purred, running her ruby red nails up and down my arm softly, “I want him. He’s so… so beautiful. I want him so badly, it burns.” She drawled out the ‘urn’ in burns, making her sound almost musical to the ears.

“That might be that STD,” I teased. She shot me a sarcastic smile and watched as Beck walked through the lunchroom. She was right; he was beautiful. Everything- from his messy, dark waves of hair to his amber eyes that pierced your soul, as our drama teacher would say- about him was beautiful. His square jaw was something of a Grecian sculpture, making Adonis himself weep with envy. His walk- his saunter- was like watching a horse gallop. It came so naturally to him, so carefree, I wondered how anything could be so perfect.

And then, the perfection we were secretly watching looked over at us. No, he looked over at me. His eyes, like molten amber, scanned my body from halfway across the lunchroom. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks, and wondered if Heather caught on. Looking up at her, I saw she was primping her breasts and staring at him like a starving lion cat, and he was freshly butchered gazelle.

“Auden,” she said breathlessly, not tearing her eyes away from his chiseled arms as they crossed in front of his chest, and his tiny smoldering smirk, “go invite him to my party. Now. Tell him to wrap himself up and stick himself in the pile with all my other presents.”

My eyes widened. She was not serious, was she? As thought she just realized I was still standing there, she gave me a glare that Mina and Elena would have peed themselves over. She dug through her bag until she found a hot pink flyer I had helped her make days before.

“Fine. I’ll do it myself,” she huffed, before marching over to him. When she reached him, she tossed her chocolate curls over her shoulder and shot me a look. I watched in utter horror as she trailed a ruby red nail up his arm, upping her game and practically trying to suffocate him with her boobs. He simply stepped back, and arched a brow. If she was nervous, she sure as hell wasn’t showing it. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding when he took the familiar hot pink invite out of her hand and slipped it into his pocket.

Of course, then I stared at her in amazement as she stuck her hand inside his pocket, slipping another sheet in there as well. This girl was unstoppable, apparently. When she sauntered back over, swishing her hips more than usual, she gave me a confident, unfaltering smile.

“I think I just felt his left nut,” she whispered, a naughty grin on her face, as though the tale of her groping/possible harassment story was some big secret and not in public, for all of the cafeteria to see. I was sure people were watching two of Jackson High’s most attractive students interact. Beck himself was like a walking, talking, breathing cliché bad boy from every movie. Every girl wanted to tame him, including Heather. And every guy wanted Heather. Its like the two were made for each other, together so unbelievably good looking it made you wonder if you were entering Heaven.