scars around her nipplepublished: 2010-11-12
Everyone has had a 'friend who does everything better' at least once in their lives. Usually at school. I was best friends with such a person from age 8 to 11.
Uniforms are meant to hide differences in what exactly? Because I guarantee you, our purple uniform did not neutralize the glaringly obvious fact that she was gorgeous and I was not.
She had shiny, jet-black hair, and really long skinny legs. She could sing so well that she was given all the solos in our school choir. My dad actually begged the school to accept me into the choir after numerous failed auditions of mine. He said, "just put her somewhere in the back, nobody will hear." And after all that, I got sick during the Christmas performance. That's the kind of child I was: to get sick when needing to perform. My friend on the other hand, owned the lights, inhabited the stage as if she was born to be a star. She could play Mozart, she could act, she could do the splits (sideways and forwards) and her dad was manager to famous pop-stars. Eventually she made it to the Olympic Games as a gymnast. She was 15 then or so.
I excelled in only one thing: grades. She had a hard time passing exams, and so I once allowed her to cheat from me. This was per her specific request. And of course we were caught, because I wasn't such a great actor myself. We were summoned to the headmistress' office. Mrs. Jackson asked who's idea it was. My best-friend kept her mouth shut and we were both suspended.
Once, she had my entire family panicking because she had gone out roller skating. Needless to say, I was useless at roller skating which is why she went alone. We were at my grandma's who lived by a lake. My parents were convinced she must have fallen in the water and sunk straight to the bottom due to the weight of the skates. She came back an hour later, rozy-cheeked and entirely unaffected by their scoldings. She must have seen that I had been worried too as she tickled me. I have always hated being tickled. Probably a control thing. She tickled me so hard that she left me no other choice than to bight my way free. My teeth sunk into the soft flesh of her budding breasts. Blood came squirting out of the two neat rows my teeth had left there.
Everytime I catch myself wondering why she chose me to be her best-friend, I feel comforted by the thought that she has scars around her right nipple.