You

You still remember your first high school party. It was Halloween and you dressed up as a cheerleader, how tragic. You still remember how you took three deep breaths before entering the apartment. You remember your fellow cheerleader greeted you and how her breath reeked of all too cheap vodka. She asked you to dance but before you had a chance to answer she walked away with a boy you knew was much too old and much too bad for her. You decided to grab a red solo cup and fill it with anything you could find. You took a sip and squeezed your eyes as your throat was set on fire. You remember your body began to sway to the music. You remember feeling a cold hand at your lower back. It was his hand; the boy at school who only talked to girls whose legs went on for miles. The boy who would have probably never looked at you unless you were wearing that skirt your father despised. 

♢♢♢

It was a Saturday and you were in the park. A goodbye party, you hated those. Your friend was leaving for boarding school. The same one who convinced you it would be a good idea to dress up as a cheerleader (when you weren’t a cheerleader) for your first highschool party. There were around twenty of you all lounging on the grass. Your friend offered you her electronic cigarette, but she knew the answer the second you declined her first offer at a party freshman year. Still, you shook your head and her shoulders sagged and you felt like you’d done this a million times. You were lying down next to Peter, bodies aligned, eyes staring at the sky. Drew Marraby walked over to you both and sat next to Peter. 

“Man, Lena’s such a bitch sometimes.” Lena was sitting across the lawn alone. Lena who spent spring breaks with you in Connecticut before you both could even walk. You decided that Drew Marraby was an asshole. 

Silence for a beat. 

“Yeah, and she has hair and shit all over her arms. She needs to learn how to use a razor, like seriously, is she even a girl?” Peter returned. Peter who was as sweet as lemonade in the summertime, Peter who sat with you while you cried after that fight you had with your mom, Peter who walked you home after every single party. 

The hair on your arms stood up.

♢♢♢

It was Charlotte’s birthday. She threw herself a party. Pink balloons and strawberry shortcake, the party could have been mistaken for a baby shower until the smell of smoke and sweaty bodies gave it away. You found Charlotte on the couch next to Lilia, Drew, and Peter. They were all a little bit out of it but you didn’t mind. It just meant less conversation and more silence. Peter asked Charlotte to dance and she nodded, her yellow curls bouncing up and down. You looked around the room and found that everyone had someone. You looked around for that boy in your math class, the one who only talked to girls with legs that went on for miles. You liked him but never told your friends this because you enjoyed keeping it a secret with yourself. You spotted him in the corner with a girl whose legs went on forever and you turned your head away. 

“You know, you could be like her.” It was Drew Marraby and you wished you could just get up and leave the party altogether and finish that movie you started with your brother. 

“What do you mean?”

“If you tried a little harder I mean. Like, lose weight or something. You could look like her and then he’d like you.” You felt his eyes all over you. 

Lilia Davis was still there and you were acutely aware of her. Lilia was gorgeous with all those freckles and that silky brown hair. Lilia stayed quiet. 

Drew Marraby was an asshole and Lilia Davis was a coward and for some reason you felt like you were worse than them both.

Your stomach grumbled. You ignored it. 

♢♢♢

It was a Saturday night and you were alone in your bathroom, yellow lights illuminating your face. You found a razor in your top right drawer, the one you bought a few weeks ago. First, you shaved your arms, and then your calves, and then your thighs, and then your stomach, and then your underarms, and you didn’t stop until you felt like a girl. 

♢♢♢

It was a Thursday, the last day of school, and you were at a party. You loved the last day of school parties. No one would remember if you kissed Peter or punched Drew. Summer would wash all those memories away. 

You walked in giddy and excited. You felt prettier with your smooth as clay legs and seven pounds lighter body. Charlotte grabbed your arm and pulled you into a sweaty hug as your eyes searched the room. You told yourself that you were just doing a quick scan of the scene but you knew exactly who you were looking for. You found him, in the back, alone, head bobbing to some song you heard on the radio last week. Maybe he felt you watching or maybe he was looking for you or maybe it was just fate, but his eyes met yours and you felt your heart jump a hurdle. He made his way towards you, slow and steady, taking his time. Smiling a smile you thought was just for you, he walked past you and straight into the arms of a girl whose legs went on for miles and miles. 

You pulled the hem of your skirt down.