[Short Story]

She’s not who she says she is. I could tell. She was almost too perfect, her Lucious locks of blonde hair, her blue eyes and kind smile. It was all too good to be true, regardless, I always found the popular girl on my mind.

Maybe she was a mean girl, maybe a bully or maybe she was just a ‘fake’ person as they say. Either way, real nice people? They don’t over-compensate the way she does. I sit behind her in class everyday. Everyday she had told me “good morning” in that confident tone of hers - it actually was quite nice at times. But when she walked in today, something was definitely off. . .

She could barely keep her eyes open, her hair rough and barely falling down her skin. She uncharacteristically sits down in front of my chair, not waving or smiling at me, or anyone.

“Morning, Alice”

I say, suddenly becoming subconscious of the movement of my hands before deciding on resting it on my chin.

She only nods in response, offering her kindest smile, which isn’t a lot.

I couldn’t help but notice the sound of snickers coming from halfway across the classroom from a group of boys, gawking in her direction. It wasn’t right, but I couldn’t speak up. She’d probably be the center of attention tomorrow anyway, nothing I should worry about.

It was interesting though, how fast the people who flock to you will turn the second you don’t fit their picture perfect image. . .

[End]