The Reunion

          For more than a decade, I had looked forward to that moment. It was the moment I laid eyes on the beauty that had been our head cheerleader. There she was, in the flesh, at our high school reunion. All I wanted right then was to walk right up to her and tell her exactly how I felt, to somehow put into words how angry she made me in high school. I wanted to compare my Masters degree in art to her stay-at-home life, I wanted to show her my designer clothes that my family could never have afforded when I was in school. I would have paid any amount of money to sit her down and mock her and see her pretty blue eyes well up with tears of envy, much like mine had when we were teenagers.

          She was still beautiful. Strictly speaking, her classic American looks with her blonde hair, sunkissed skin, and pale blue eyes held sway over my brown hair and freckles, but I didn't much care for those kinds of comparisons anymore. My curves had finally caught up with her developed womanly shape, and I stood over her height by at least an inch. But I could remember when the playing field wasn't so level. She had been high school's little princess, with her B cups when I was still in a training bra. Teachers adored her, even though she had little depth and insight in her work. The boys loved her, even though she had nothing to offer in terms of true partnership. She was the girl everyone remembers; voted most popular even though she wasn't liked by any of her peers. She was perfect in high school and she looked perfect at the reunion, and I wanted to burst that bubble.

          I had tried to attain her beauty once, before I realized how beautiful auburn hair can be. It was the week before Junior prom and I had bleached my hair in a cheap attempt to fit in with her. When the peroxide when on, I had visions of myself with long, flowing blonde locks that the popular guys would swoon over. Not so. When the bleach washed out and I looked in the mirror, I suddenly had horrible visions of straw-like hair that was more an orange-pink than goddess blonde. Having already bought my dress, I went to the prom alone only to be mocked by none other than high school's little princess.

          I seethed at the reunion; man how I wanted to embarrass her.

          Then something happened. I saw a shadow cross her face, when she must have thought no one was looking. I saw a gripping pain, a loneliness I had known in my life only in times of hurtful breakups and bitter goodbyes. I saw her eyes droop and the corners of her mouth twitch ever so slightly and my heart melted. This girl had lived her whole highschool life being better than everyone else: being the top of the pyramid, at the highest plateau of the mountain. Her reward was a life envied, a life lonely.

          Who can be your friend when everyone around you feeds you cheap flattery just waiting to stab you in the back and take your place? I had never known the high school football quarterback, but I had known a poet in SoHo who really loved me. I had never known how it felt to have perfect hair all of the time, but I had known friends who loved me even on days I didn't wear makeup.

          I couldn't do it. I couldn't crush a burned-out soul. I wouldn't kick her when she was down, even though I had lived life certain she had done such things to me. This blonde goddess with her light makeup and high heels had taught me motivation. She taught me strength. And even as the shadow passed and her usual giddy sparkle came back across her perfect features, I couldn't find the anger I had had just moments ago. She saw me looking at her and shot an icy glare; what was I staring at? I smiled at the high school cheerleader; I knew her secret. I thanked her in my heart and walked away, I had old friends to find.