Ces't La Vie

Once upon a time, not so long ago, in a place not so unlike where you are now, there was a girl. Now, this girl had a crush, like most girls. But, unlike most girls, this crush was on her best friend. And unlike most fairytales, she and him never lived happily ever after. Not together, anyways. But not that it matters, I mean, it was just a crush, right?

Wrong.

This crush started off as a good thing, but soon got possessive, and ugly. Not in the way you'd expect, either. Now, I present to you the story from her viewpoint. So you can see just what happened around that bittersweet Valentines day, and what was to follow.


"Umm, hi, I know this is kind of awkward, but...." I erased what I had written. "Hi, I know you don't know me that well.." No, that just sounds stupid. "Hi, I know this is kind of last minute, but I was wondering if you would go to the Valentine's day dance with me. Leave a reply in your old locker." Much better.
"Are you writing to your boyfriend?"
"No, he's not my boyfriend....yet."
"Oh, ok Allie."
Marco was reading what I wrote? Yikes! Oh, Marco is one of my best friends, by the way. He sits next to me in Seventh grade buissness. I read the note over again, and, satisfied with what I put, slipped it into an envelope. I couldn't wait for the bell to ring. Then I'd slip the note to my friend Kensie and she'd slip it to Braden. He was an eighth grader. He wasn't the hottest guy in school, but he was my best friend. And, believe me, I have a history of falling in love with my best friends. Finally, the bell rang, and I hurried off to History.
"Did you write it?"
"Yup! Here it is."
"Eeeek! You two would make SUCH a cute couple!"
"Hehe..."
"I'll go deliver it."
I shrugged, and walked the rest of the way to History, my chest heavy with anticipation.

He left me waiting the rest of the day. Finally, on the way to get my stuff at my locker I heard:
"Allie's got a BOY-FRIEND!"
I rolled my eyes, then my heart skipped a beat. WHAT?
I turned towards the speaker, the person who owned the locker next to mine. He was holding a note and reading it with his friends.
"Oh, give me that!"
I ripped the note from his hands.
I read it.
"Umm, well, this is kind of unexpected. Well, let's get right to it. I would love to go to the dance with you. Meet me by my locker (number 50) and we'll go together. Oh, and by the way, could you please dance with my friend Matt? No one ever dances with him."
"EEEEEKKK!!!!"
"Oh my gosh, this is so awesome! You guys would make an amazing couple."
So I went home and floated for about a day.

Then, for the weeks that followed, I got completely martyred.
"Allie Embers, Allie Embers, Allie Embers."
"Ok, what are you? TWO??"
Enough said there. That remark (which would stick with me for about a month) haunted me all week. Then, the day before the dance, I got a note. "I know this is tough, but I really just don't like you in that way. I will still go to the dance with you, but only as a friend." I cried, ripped up the note, and shoved it in a waterbottle which I brutally smashed and threw away. Mature right? But I got over it the next day. The day of the dance. Probably the best day of my life. I got through school, up to lunch. Which was the only hour of the day (actually only 26 minutes) that you could buy a valentine for someone. It would be delivered in seventh hour. For me, that was P.E with the popular people. And believe me, I never saw one of those valentines. But my Braden did. And so did one of my friends, Cayenne. She had told me that she hadn't gotten one so far, so I took the liberty of spending a dollar and writing one. Well, two. One for each, but still. It didn't have the effect I wanted on Braden, but it really did on Cayenne. Then at the end of P.E, when we dressed out, I got into a purple tank top, some black leggings, black wedges, and a cream and black plaid tiered miniskirt. Then I put on mascara and went to the gym. I couldn't find him, so I went out to eat some snacks. Then I got some love advice from my coach. "You've just got to let him know that you like him and hope for the best, kiddo."
"Thanks, coach."
Then, I went back in, my mouth crammed with brownies. And he was there. I'll never forget what he was wearing. A black suitcoat, black slacks, and a superman tee-shirt. I got so nervous when he held out his hand to dance that I made a mad dash for the door. But my friends pushed me back towards him, and we danced to Boston by Augustana. He taught me how to dance, even though I have two left feet, and, to tell you honestly, I had a blast. Then he said something that will probably stick with me to my grave. "See you next slow dance." I floated for the rest of the day, despite my aching feet.