Best Friends Fall Away

Gemma's POV

I took in the changes from the years that had parted us. I evaluated both Alice and myself. And 'i didn't like it one ounce.

We both now had glasses. Alice had large artsy hipster ones that made her face look slim, for sure they were designer. I had ugly narrow pink plastic frames, a tad too small, with a swirly purple design on the arms.

Alice had very very long luxurious wispy hair, which was mostly white blonde, but with soft streaky shades of honey and dark and bleached beachy tones, pulled back into elegant messy dutch braids, which reached all the way down to just above her elbows. My hair was muddy brown, just over annoying shoulder length, and very thick and straight. It was oily and wet with two days worth of grease (I didn't get time to wash it), and pulled untidily into a very low ponytail that itched at the base of my neck. The scrunchie I'd used to quickly tie it back with was green-and-white checkered. With a flash of embarrassment and memory, I realised it was one that I used to have in primary school. I can't do braids or anything like what Alice has. I can barely even plait my own hair, it's so thick and slippery. And if I leave it loose, it just gets all ridgy and my centre parting makes my face look really wide and round.

I noticed with distaste that she had her ears pieced. Double piercings on both sides, and a cartliage on her left ear. I could see the soft glint of a small silver hoop in the cartilage piercing, and she had small silver balls and tiny silver moons in her double piercings, both sides matching. The earrings looked amazing. I had never wanted piercings, but seeing Alice with them made me suddenly burn up in desperation to get mine done.

Onto the face; Alice had the piercing and pretty light blue eyes like her mother, which I had since realised was because of her Scandinavian family. Her eyebrows were perfect, and she had the lightest dusting of spots at the edges of her forehead, barely noticeable because she had light foundation on. In addition to that, there was a slight nude eyeshadow tone and perfect winged eyeliner. The makeup was stunning and perfect. My face was shiny and swimming in oil like my hair, and angry red spots covered my flabby cheeks and my nose, never going away because I couldn't help picking at them. My mum had bought me a bit of starter make up, but I was REaLLY bad at it so I stuck to the occasional bit of mascara (which I could never get off) and I loved slathering my lips in cola lip gloss, not caring if I went over the edges. But I wished I'd taken the time and effort to practise, looking at her now.

As for what she was wearing: a delicate black lacy tank crop top, with a washed out picture of the moon on it. You could see her black bra straps but it didn't matter. You could see a bit of her flat stomach too. Also she had on washed out ripped light denim shorts, which were pretty short but not obscene. Her legs were completely hairless and smooth. It was boiling hot today, and she didn't look burnt at all, just tanned all over. She had ankle socks on, and  minimalist grey trainers with a streak of holographic.

I, on the other hand, was absolutely sweltering, and worrying because I hadn't put on any deodorant. I had on a vast red t-shirt that read USA. Despite its large size, it still fitted me more than comfortably, wasn't baggy. I also had massive bright pink joggers on. These were far too small, and strained against my legs too tightly. I'd had them for a long time. They cut into the top of my thighs when I walked or sat. The USA shirt had a chocolate smear on it from the chocolate I'd eaten just before. I hadn't done anything to my leg hair in a year. I probably didn't look my best, and blushed to think Alice saw me like this.

She had on a slim braided bracelet and a large minimalist watch on one side, and a tiny gold chain bracelet on the other. This led to an elegant hand and long slender fingers on which I spied a slim gold ring slipped onto her right hand. Her nails were thin and long, tapered to a soft point at the end. Her nail polish was nude and very glossy. My own nails were bitten and short, my fingers thick and stubby. Maybe a trace of crappy black polish left. The only bracelets I wore were the ones she had gifted me way back when, one of few physical memories that I desperately held onto.

But what enraged me the most, what made me feel the jealousy burning up inside like fire, was her figure.