My Best Friend

''I have never felt so humiliated in my entire life. I stood in the middle of the stage with this huge bright light shining directly in my eyes. I had sweat dripping down my forehead and the whole auditorium was so quiet you could hear the toilet flush from across campus. Everyone was sitting there waiting for me to say something, anything. What was I to do or say? I just knew I blew my chances with the Juilliard scout, I just knew it. I wanted to just cry. Maybe if I cried enough it would wash out the whole auditorium, am I right? Thanks to Ms Fiddleson for mouthing the words to me, so I just carried on as if my skirt didn't just rip in half," I paused to take a sip of my water before I continued, "The performance went on fine after that but afterwards, Fiddleson gave me that look and I know that when I see her again she's going to throw a fit. The good news is that the scout came up to me and-,'' I stopped when I realised Zack wasn't focussed on anything I was saying. ''And then he

I looked at myself in the mirror, tilting my head to get a different angle. I tugged the cotton-pink sweater away from my body and criticised it ever so slightly. Should I change it? I still have a bit of time before my students' council meeting. I turned to my closet and ran my hands across the different colours, patterns and materials. I took out a predominantly white tee with sunflowers scattered all across the front. I held it up against my body. My face scrunched up, I wasn't in a sunflower mood so, I decided to stick with the fuzzy pink sweater beside it really complimented my skin tone. ''Are you decent?'' Zack asked, sticking his head in my room. ''What do you think?'' I asked him not taking my eyes from the mirror. ''You look cute. I like it,'' he said and walked into my room. He flopped face-first into my unmade bed and then snuggled with my pillow. That statement was good enough for me. I turned to him and, said I was ready. Zack was on the student council with me so, he

I stared hard at the full lunch tray I had in my hands. It was more overflowing than full. Still, I was super excited to eat but, then my stupid therapist and her stupid words of knowledge popped up in my head. 'Food is not love and it definitely isn't the solution. ' Food isn't love but, it's sure damn close though. Has she ever had lasagna after a good cry? Let me tell you it's great. I should suggest it to her. Does she even cry though? She should, right? The image of Dr Marsha's face soaked with tears, eating lasagna was so weird to me, and that's saying something. ''Are you trying to get it to explode?'' I jumped. Zack laughed as I pursed my lips and looked at him, unamused might I add. ''What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be trying to get into Mindy's skirt?'' I asked him, my face blank. ''I always have lunch with you,'' he stated matter of factly with a frown as we both plopped down in our regular seats. Before I said anything Kevin and two people-one girls, one gu

I stared at the screen not paying it much attention. Instead, my mind was hyper-focused on what had just happened. Was I reading into this too much? Probably. Zack was a very loyal guy so it was probably just a friendly peck on the head. Yeah, that's what it was, a friendly kiss on the head given to me by my best and only friend. My best friend, damn my life. You can say that again. Zack's laughter brought me from my thoughts. As much as he would deny it, this was his favourite movie. Every time he was sad I would put it on and make him some macaroni and cheese with bacon, his favourite dish. I remember the first time we watched Shark Tale actually. It was his fourth birthday and he was not feeling very well so his mother suggested watching a movie instead of a big party like they normally did. For me, that day was special because it was the first time we spent his birthday together, just us. Alone. He was always popular, which meant when he had parties, he was constantly surrounded

I've been seeing Dr Marsha for a while, her diploma-decorated office walls and the uncomfortable blue couch were so familiar I could draw them in my sleep. There was always the smell of floral Lysol floor cleaners that stuck around even hours after the cleaning lady left. The fake potted palm was in the same place as always- obnoxiously in my space. I swear it gets closer and closer with each visit. Said visits have been going on for over three years and, every time without fail, she would ask me the same question whenever she seems me 'How was your day?' Sometimes when she is feeling spicy she will ask me 'How are you doing?' Honestly, they were the same question. I wonder if she preplans which question or if it's just a spur-of-the-moment type of thing? Nothing with Dr Marsha felt random so it was likely planned. Today she decided to ask me how my day was going. For the first time, I said something besides fine; I finally had something worth saying. ''My brother and I talked tod