The Worst of Us

When life gives you a flat-footed new kid

"Oh, look, they're selling tickets for prom night. Joy."

I rolled my eyes and pointed at a couple of students setting up a table and a sign reading 'Save the World!' near the entrance of our school cafeteria. The guys dressed in superhero shirts caught lots of curious looks and I had no doubt a line would form the moment they were done installing. Prom was huge in Demont high school. 

My friend Bailey raised one of her thick, bushy eyebrows across the table and shook her head disapprovingly. "So, the madness goes on," she deadpanned.  

"Eh, just ignore them." My other friend, Farah, shrugged. She didn't take her eyes off of her phone. I saw the lay-out of a political news website she frequented reflected in her glasses. 

Bailey sighed. "I wish I could just ignore them. Forever. Prom's only interesting for girls like Autumn, but I just know my mom's gonna force me to go when we graduate next year. She's already nagging about it, you know?"

"Well, apparently prom's not only interesting to them," I said, nodding at the line which was already forming around the ticket sale stand. 

Actually, I shouldn't say the line was forming around the stand. It would be closer to the truth if I said they were gravitating towards the girl perched on the stand. The girl who was for sure becoming prom queen next year, and strategically already hung out at this year's ticket sale. 

Autumn Collins with her doll-face, perfect, glossy brown hair, and hourglass figure which she never failed to accent with the most complimenting mini-skirts and tight jeans. No, really. She'd made a guy crash into an open locker while staring at her. Poor Richie. Nobody ever let him live it down.

But to her benefit, Autumn Collins wasn't a complete bitch. I'd give her that.

Whenever a fellow student approached her in the hallway she would happily make small-talk. For a little while. She'd also make it perfectly clear when your time was up and you should fuck off.

But, in that brief moment you had her attention, there would even be the occasional compliment rolling off of perfectly painted lips (I had no idea how she kept her lipgloss so neat all day), accompanied by a smile. She'd make you feel special and then, when you least expected it, there was the all-destroying, snide remark that would ring on in your ears for days and made it clear you weren't her equal. You weren't her friend. Not even close. She'd only been indulging you for a moment.  

And that was the most insidious part. People wanted Autumn to like them, and she wasn't all bad. If she was all bad, it'd be easy to walk away and not care. 

To be fair, not everyone cared. My friends, Farah and Bailey, certainly didn't. They were the type to scoff at people obsessed with 'celebrity' lives. They would tell me to stop caring about someone like Autumn, who didn't give a shit about me and only saw girls like me as audience to her wonderful  life. An extra like on Instagram. 

That's what my mom would say, too. That's what everyone in my social circle would say if I ever shared my thoughts. And they were right, of course; I shouldn't be paying such close attention to Autumn Collin's life.

The truth of the matter was sad. Incredibly sad, and never to be spoken out loud to any of my friends or my mom because they wouldn't understand. On the outside I acted as indifferent towards Autumn as Bailey and Farah. Snorted at the thought of people trying to get Autumn to be their friend. 

On the inside?

Well, I called the phenomenon a jealousy-crush. 

I'd switch lives with this girl hands down. I wanted Autumn Collin's life. I'd emulate her sense of fashion like other wannabes if I wasn't too shy, self-conscious and proud to do it. I wanted people to gravitate towards me and notice me in a crowd immediately. I wanted people to stare in wonder and spontaneously call me pretty, get at least five-hundred likes on all of my pictures, and most of all I wanted Jeremiah Gallagher.