I hate my best-friend

I hate my best-friend. Each time I see her play with other girls in the class, my heart starts racing, it feels like someone is tugging at its strings and my face would be red with fume. I hate her when I see her laugh with them because it is not me she is laughing with. I do not like it when she flashes those perfect white teeth to others. They are meant for me, me alone. She sometimes winks at them in class as if talking to them in a secretive way, that secret language of theirs makes me want to shout. As each second ticks by, I wonder if our friendship would go back to normal. I can feel tears streaming down my cheeks. I cannot concentrate on what the teacher is explaining. The tears are blurring my vision and all I can think of is how I met her.

I met Erika when we were three years old. Our mums met on the school-run and liked each other. They told us to stick together. That was our first day in nursery school. I can remember that our lunch-packs weighed more than us and that the bullies were looking at us with greedy bulging eyes; they were ready to pounce on us. That gave us more reason to stick together like glue. We played, eat and learnt our nursery rhymes together. In the evenings we exchanged visits, played with our dolls and ate some ice cream together.

We would sometimes put up a fight so that our mothers would give us some more ice cream. As far as we were concerned, we were more than sisters.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and then into years. We are now 12 years old and here I sit in pain and disappointment as I stare into space thinking, yet not thinking. I turn around and see her giggling childishly with them; those heart-breaking giggles as if plotting against me. I can feel it because it sends chills running down my spine.

The bell rings for break and we go out. I didn’t see Erika. Now it is time to go back to class and suddenly I notice balloons tied around the walls of the classroom. As I enter, I hear a deafening “Happy Birthday” from the class. Now it dawns on me that today is my birthday. I was so busy thinking about inconsequential matters that I didn’t remember anything. I can see Erika with the others coming towards me with gifts and a big smile. I feel weird and guilty that I should be thinking so badly of my Best-friend. Now I can see why she was giggling, why they were pulling at each others hair and their sudden disappearance during break time.

I can imagine the fun we will be having tonight. My mother has plans for the party and I am sure her mother is going to spoil me with gifts. Erika hugs me and whispers a soft “happy birthday” in my ear. It feels like feather to the touch and her kisses on my cheeks are the gift I cherish most. Now her heart-shaped lips turn into a beautiful smile and those huge beautiful eyes give me all the assurances I need.

Oh, I love my best-friend because she is so adorable.