Frenemies

34

December 1st, 3 years ago

"Grayson?", I asked the boy next to me. He had a planner open on his table and I noticed the different colors that were highlighted. The boy looks up at me, his hair falling into his eye, a tiny smile on his lips. This was the guy that I was competing with.

Juliette, you have to be the best

"Yeah, Julie?", he answered back. I study him for a moment, his outfit is neatly pressed, his hair combed except for the front bangs, his face perfectly clear. How did he manage to get everything perfect? And how was I the opposite in comparison?

"How do you--", I stop when his blue eyes get too much for me to handle. Blue eyes should be illegal to have, they are so light that they can be scary.  "How do you manage everything you need to do for the day?"

The boy looks at me for a moment and his face flushes a little bit. He blinks at me and then he laughs out loud. So loud that a few heads turn our way. I scoot away from him and grab his planner. I flip through the pages, my eyes in awe of everything he wrote.

"How do you do it?", I ask him and he freezes.

"Do what?", he says and I shake my head. Turning back toward him, I say,"How do you manage everything?"

"You're asking?", he says. He smiles, the corner of his lips are upright. "Julie, how do you do it? You have better grades than me and you are involved in a lot of clubs. You've got it down."

I don't have it down. My brain is a jumble of mess. My thoughts are scattered and taunting.

You have to be the best

Those are not my words, but they are words that have been instilled on me by my parents. My parents are both doctors and every since I could remember, they have been carving the same path for me.

"Why do you ask?", Grayson says after a long moment of silence from the both of us.

"My thoughts are--", I stop once I realize that he probably doesn't care. He doesn't have a mind that is whirring at every moment. He doesn't have parents who lecture him every day. Every hour. Who have the time to pressure their daughter even though they work all the time.

Sometimes I wonder why my parents are living. What for? I get it, they are doctors, so their job is very impactful. But what about their life? Will they not live it? Will they work for the rest of their life. I didn't want that.

"Do you want to skip class?", I ask him wanting to do something spontaneous. He gives me an once over and I start to cower away. God, he must think I'm pathetic. The word repeats in my mind over and over again.