Life In Technicolor

I had always been the third wheel of the group.

I became friends with them years after they had already met, yet I was the one to leave the two of them behind. There wasn't anything outright destructive about our -- their -- friendship, but I still needed to get out of it. It was suffocating, it was horrific, ugly, mind warping --

It was one of the most amazing things I had ever been a part of.

You couldn't tell from the outside. From the outside, we looked like three best friends. Me, Riley March, and Emma Turner. Riley, Emma and I. Riley, Emma and Zack.

Riley and Emma.

Emma was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen in person, and certainly the most beautiful girl I had ever been friends with. And she was smart, too. Easily in the top ten percent of our class. Yet, she had no idea how she came across to people. She could be bossy, sarcastic, and yet under that confident facade was a girl who doubted her own intelligence and beauty. Her moods were all over the place, her attitude forever shifting. Only Riley could read Emma properly.

But then again, Riley could read anyone. When Riley March looked at you, it was as though she was reading your mind. While Emma was intelligent when it came to books, to facts, to numbers, Riley understood people. It was easy to hate Emma, it was impossible to hate Riley. She could manipulate herself to be whatever you wanted her to be, and people found her to be friendly, funny, kind. But up close, she was just as confused as anyone. While she seemed to know everything about everyone else, she knew nothing about herself.

They were competitive, Riley and Emma. Some things they knew they were better at -- Emma would always get better grades, Riley would always have more friends. Emma would have boys running after her for dates, Riley would have girls running after her for advice.

Where was I in all of this?

Nothing more than a witness as they lifted each other up, and tore each other down.