Learn to Fly

Chapter 2: Friends

The pics are Amanda (left) and Riley (right).

~

Thursday, September 6th.

Riley walks into the restroom I'm in. She's all decked out in expensive-looking clothes, a sign that she's still hanging out with the Preps. It's strange seeing her wearing that kind of stuff. Not that she looks bad or anything, she looks really good. It's just a massive difference from last year, where she basically lived in leggings and oversized T-shirts or sweatshirts.

I'm touching up my mascara, and she's checking her makeup and fixing her hair. I can practically feel her glaring at me through the mirror, burning holes into my skin.

"Uh...hey." I say hesitantly. I'm going to try and play it cool for now, act like nothing happened. As expected, she doesn't say anything, she just keeps staring at her reflection. Now what?

"How's it going?" I try again.

"Eh." She mumbles as she applies another coat of dark red lipstick, then runs one hand through her brown hair. It's small, but at least it's some sort of acknowledgment.

I don't want to play it cool and act like nothing happened. I want to shove her and scream at her, beg her to stop treating me like shit. She didn't even bother asking me what happened that night, what kind of "best friend" is that? I accidentally get mascara in my eye and rub it, smearing it across my cheek. The sensation stings my eye.

Riley smirks, pulls a small vape pen from her pocket and takes a hit from it. Wow. First, she starts hanging out with a bunch of snobby rich bitches, and now she's vaping? Last year, Riley wouldn't have dreamt of doing that sort of stuff, what the hell happened to her? I silently pray that a teacher suddenly walks in and catches her. It would bring me a little satisfaction.

Another girl comes out of the stall. She's wearing similar clothes to Riley. Another Prep. Riley smiles at the girl and offers her the vape. After taking a hit, she whispers something to Riley, and they both laugh obnoxiously loud. I can't help but wonder if it's about me...

Riley blows a puff of fruity-smelling smoke in my direction and quickly hides the vape in her pocket. The two girls turn and walk out of the bathroom. I'm alone once again.

I really need a friend. Not a best friend, but it'd be kind of nice to have someone I can talk to and walk around with in the halls. Just so I don't look like a loner.

My journal entry for English that day: "Rich people ruin everything."

~

Friday, September 21st.

So far, I've managed to make it through the first two weeks of school without having some kind of massive panic attack. Amanda sits with me at Lunch and calls to gossip and rant about her classes. That girl sure loves to talk, she can go on for hours. All I have to do is prop the phone up against my ear and give a "yeah", "mm-hmm" or "right" occasionally while I'm doing homework or browsing around online. Speaking of gossip, it seems like word's been going around about what happened over the summer. I've been getting bumped into a lot in the hallways and it doesn't always seem accidental. People give me dirty looks and whisper about me when I'm in the locker room or walking to class. Riley continues to act like she doesn't know me, like we haven't been friends since we were five and basically grew up together. I still haven't tried to talk with Jocelyn or Zack yet.

On the bright side, I've managed to connect with two new people. There's Julia Adams, the girl that sits next to me in Art. She has a pretty edgy look to her, with her pale skin, fiery red hair, pale green eyes that stand out thanks to her black eyeliner, black clothes, and chipped black nail polish. She's got this big sketchbook that she carries around everywhere. She let me flip through it once. It's full of sketches of fictional characters, some that I recognize, some that I've never seen before, and some that Julia once explained are her own original characters. Her artstyle is very cartoony, full of vibrant colors and expressive faces. It's cute. She told me that she wants to work in animation. I think she'd be amazing.