Flea Bite

My cheeks are numb and I cannot bring myself to stop shaking my leg, pants acting as a futile wall against the cold park bench. I clasp and unclasp my hands a thousand times, eyes darting from the filthy ground to the dreary surroundings. Where is she?

I'm waiting for Elizabeth. She's running late, per usual. I find myself too overwhelmed and cold to muster up any anger -- as if staying upset at my only friend is an option. I see her joyful presence creeping over the park's hill at a sluggish pace, only causing me to grow fiercely impatient.

"Hey, Rowan!" She's cheerful, cheeks a glossy pink from the cold temperature, hair a frizzy mess that still somehow manages to work for her. "I'm sorry I'm late, I lost track of time somehow. Anyway, what's up?"

I sit criss-crossed on the bench, ignoring the chill that runs up my spine. Elizabeth slowly sits next to me, still offering her causal, lazy smile. I smile back weakly.

"I'm having a problem," I draw out slowly, uncertainty eating away at me. "I... don't know what to do about it, really." When I swallow it feels as if I'm swallowing marbles. Elizabeth watches me, waiting.

"Is Venus prettier than me?" Before I could stop myself, before I could say what I meant to say, the question blurted out, a surprised mood dropping between the two of us. I want to zip my mouth shut and run away.

Elizabeth looks at me as if I have sprouted another head. "Are you serious?" She sounds partially amused and partially irritated. "Venus? She's about as pretty as a rotten fruit, and she has the rotten personality that matches. Why are you asking? Did that bitch say something?" I can't form eye contact with her.

"No, she didn't say anything." I bite the inside of my lip. "But... there has to be something, ya'know? Different between us. She gets all the guys and I don't. Is she better than me? Smarter?" At this point I can't bring myself to shut up, self-doubting questions continue to roll off my tongue and with each one Elizabeth offers a new, yet equally surprised and outraged, expression.

"There are tons of differences between you and Venus," Elizabeth reaches for my hand and offers me a soft smile. "but all the differences between you guys are the ones you want. You're sweet and smart and quiet, she's loud and obnoxious and failed two grades. She's a total bimbo, I'm not sure how anyone can stand to get close to her." I wipe at my face, desperately attempting to smudge the tears away without Elizabeth being aware.

"It's just hard," I mutter. I stare down at my hands, sighing heavily. "She seems to have everything I want." I curl my fingers under the edge of the bench, knuckles turning white. I can feel myself getting closer to exposing my affair with Frank, but with each passing second a new worst-case-scenario pops into my head.

"What do you mean?" She sounds confused and inching on frustration, tired of playing games where I only tell her half of what I mean. "You want to have a god awful reputation? You want to be a bimbo? You want to have fake friends? You want that nasty piece of work Frank Iero hanging all over you?" With each new 'you want' the irritation in her voice grows until she's nearly shouting, obviously done with playing games and wanting me to spit it out and tell her, clearly, why I have brought her to a lousy park in below thirty degree weather.

I bite my lip, retracting teeth when I feel the faint trickle of blood. I look at her, eyes glossy and nose runny, my best attempt at keeping it all together failing miserably.

"Yes," I gasp out, pawing at my face desperately to clear away the tears. "I want him. Him. You say I'm so good, so pretty and sweet, so why didn't he pick me? Why did he choose Venus over me? After everything I've done. After it all." After it all... I'm sobbing quietly, muffled by my sleeves. I can feel Elizabeth's surprise radiating from her.

"Rowan..." She trails off, and before she can apologize I jolt up, shaking my head frantically.

"Don't apologize," I sniffle, giving her an ugly smile. "You didn't know. No body did. I was his stupid little secret, his good girl. You didn't know." I wrap my sweater around me tighter. "I'm...I'm gonna go. I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'm sorry."

She looks as if she's desperately attempting to cling onto any sort of fragment left of this conversation, one that won't cause me to spiral deeper into a weeping pit of self-sorrow. I shrug at her, and before I turn away to head home I mumble, "don't mention this to anyone okay? Please."