Megan didn't know whether it hurt more to be alone or with people who weren't entirely human. Having dropped her previous "friends", the rumors soon surrounded her like Saran Wrap- encasing her without hope of escape, but at the same time, clear so she could see exactly who was wronging her; yet she was powerless to stop it.
In a way, Meg used the lies to work for her rather than against her. She molded them into armor to protect herself. Shrouded in mystery, no one knew enough to hurt her. No one could get close enough. Megan hated the way it had to be, given her outgoing nature, but as soon as the opportunity presented itself, she would cast off that armor.
Megan would find she could stand being labelled as a nerd again. In the fall, she planned to get back into theater, one of her true passions, and take some art classes she had skipped this year. She would find again the true friends she has made, and all it would take was surviving her sophomore year like this. Living with the hollow pain that Meg herself had excavated in her chest.
During chemistry, Megan glanced over at Ash. As much as she wished she could make things okay between them, to speak to him and befriend him, she knew she wouldn't. She couldn't. If Meg truly cared about Ash, then she had to leave him alone as was his final request. That would occasionally make eye contact with each other, and if they were assigned to be partners, they showed each other proper respect and courtesy. Megan knew that it would never amount to anything more than that. She had made sure of that.
Her mom was working late one night, and Meg had long finished her homework. Sighing, she opened the fridge and drummed her fingers against the door in indecision. She pulled out a rootbeer and headed back to the couch where she had been sadly reflecting. Megan drank the soda without ice, and it woke her up. What am I doing here, moping around? she asked herself. I don't need to wait until next year to have friends... Right? Somehow she couldn't convince herself.
Suddenly, her phone let out a little squawking noise and the screen lit up. Curious, Meg sipped at her rootbeer as she picked the phone up from off the table. A notification stood out in the middle of the screen: "Izzy's birthday: April 19th! Make present and card." Megan smiled softly to herself. She had been so caught up in popularity, in finding stories and twisted truths that she had forgotten about her once best friend. Maybe she could still make things right in her own life.
Megan dialled without hesitation, pleased to find that she still had the number memorised. She never put it into her phone, as Megan and Izzy had promised to remain such good friends they would remember each other's numbers; if they couldn't remember, then the phone numbers clearly weren't needed. It was a sign of trust and loyalty, something Megan could use a bit of at the moment. Isabelle picked up her phone immediately.
"Megan?" she asked incredulously. She let out a little squeal that made Meg laugh. How long had it been since she had laughed? "Oh my gosh it's been so long!"
"Yeah it's me," Megan said happily. She started to cry a bit and her chest shuddered. She smiled weakly, torn between the gladness of the moment and her lingering regret for the past.
"Come to my house right now," Isabelle ordered, "and tell me everything. I should've known those popular girls would turn their backs on you. Don't worry, I have plenty of tissues."
"Thanks," Megan sniffed with a smile. Is always had a way of understanding that no one else did; she had forgotten what it was like to have someone like that to fall back on when life got hard.
True to her word, Isabelle had three boxes of tissues when Megan arrived at her house.
"I don't think I'm that sad," she said with a half smile.
"Just in case," Izzy replied, and it was hard to tell if she was kidding or not. "Now what happened?"
Isabelle was a very patient listener. She sat through all Megan had to say without interrupting, commenting, or questioning. Meg actually did use a lot of tissues, but only about halt a box's worth. When she was finished with the tale, Isabelle sat back thoughtfully while Megan leaned forward in anxiety.
"I won't comment on past choices," Izzy said slowly. "And besides, you seem to already know the things I might point out weren't the best decisions."
"Am I forgiven?"
Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "It is not my place to forgive, nor to pass judgement."
"You sound like an old lady," Megan laughed through her tears.
"And you like a child," Isabelle teased.
"So... Can we still be friends?" Meg asked, finally getting around to her main point.
"You still have the bracelet, do you not?" Isabelle held up her wrist with a braided bracelet on it, and Megan considered the matching one on her own wrist. It had been with her through all of the hard times, where Isabelle would have been with her had she bothered to call. "After all, what is a friend if they don't stay by your side?"
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