Dear Meggie

November 22nd, 2012

November 22nd, 2012

Dear Meggie,

You apologized to me today. Although it wasn’t for the best reasons.

The first reason was that Sarah, of all people, had practically slapped some sense into you. She thought you were “acting childish and foolish, that it sure as hell wasn’t her fault that Will liked her, and at least she wasn’t the one he was kissing at that party. Plus, even if Will ever did ask her out, she would say no because of her loyalty to you.” Sarah had no clue what she was talking about, but I appreciated the gesture from her.

The second reason was that Will had asked you out. Which practically broke me from the inside out, but I didn’t tell you that.

I remember your exact words being, “He just told me that he wanted to get to know me a lot better, and what better way to get it than to talk to you about me?”

And I nodded, and said, “Sounds like good news for you.”

And you went on and on about how he had found you at your favorite store during Black Friday, and paid for your clothes and everything. I felt replaceable. Like always.

I was walking home and cut through the park when I got tackled down by a large football-player sized mass. It knocked me to the ground, and I scraped my cheek against the wood-chips.

“You creep, get off of me!” I yelled, not fully knowing who it was yet. And Meggie, it was Will.

“Okay, Harriett, could you please just listen to me for a sec, okay?” he asked, pinning my shoulders down.

“Do I even really have a choice?” I spat at him. “Please, just get off of me. I have to get home.”

“Just listen,” he pleaded. I remained silent. “Okay, I’m sorry for asking Meggie out, okay? It was the only way I could get her to let you talk to me.”

“How did you know she made me stop?” I asked. “What if I just didn’t want to talk to you anymore?”

“I’m not stupid, Harriett,” he said.

“I listened, okay, Will?” I said. “Could you let me go now?”

“Fine.” He released my shoulders from the ground and I got up, brushing the wood-chips from my hair and wiping the small dot of blood from my cheek. I began to walk in the opposite direction of him.

“Hey, wait!” he called. “Do you need a ride?”

“You should probably go over to your girlfriend’s house,” I replied shortly.

“That’s you.”

I whirled around and punched him in the jaw. My hand burned terribly after it, but it was worth it. You would have been proud of me. I looked him in the eyes, my teething gritting against one another. “No, I’m not,” I hissed. “I won’t let you cheat on my best friend.” I turned briskly around and began to run.

You’re welcome, Harriett