There had been an awkward space of late. We had done the same Friday night movies with the girls, and lunch at school, but a gray area lingered. I didn't have anything to say to her, and I guess she didn't have anything to say to me either. I dreamed about her almost every night, and I found myself having fake conversations with her in the shower. Sometimes I was telling her off, and sometimes I was begging for forgiveness.

It wasn't like I was trying to make a problem like this. I hated losing that control I had over Emily. It was like she quit caring.

What really confused me, though, was the unreasonable happiness that came over her randomly. She got that look that usually only I could give her, staring at her phone, and her tan skin blushing. As obvious as it was, it took me almost a week to realize that she was talking to someone. Talking talking.

It wasn't like I was jealous, I just had to know who it was. Then I could tease her about it and that gray space might go away. I'd go back to the throne and all would be as it should be.

I watched, quietly, the next day at lunch. It seemed like about halfway through her phone would sound, and that smile would creep back. I waited for the opportunity.

Just as I thought, the beep made her scramble, and smile, and blush. She typed a quick response trying to be casual, but failing.

"Who is that?" Aria asked. Emily tried not to smile, but did it anyway, staring at the table.

"Nobody." She said.

"Oh come one Em. Don't lie. Spill. I want all the dirty details." Hanna prompted.

Without even looking at me, she told the girls that she had been talking to Pigskin Paige, and that she thought they may be official soon. My heart was beating out of my chest. Just like Hanna wanted, she did spill the "dirty details" but it was like I wasn't even there. I couldn't even tell you where I was looking or what my typically perfectly managed facial expression fell to. The only thing I could hear was all those beeps from Paige. All I could see was her smile, her joy and excitement, at the prospect of someone.

They talked like that for the rest of lunch, in the bathroom, and as soon as we all met up to walk home after school. I hadn't said a word to a single person the entire time, the swirl of confusion clouding all of my senses. Before I even knew it, everyone had split at the usual spot, and I was left alone with Emily. This was the first time in weeks, since the night on the porch, that we had been alone. She seemed to pick up her pace, and it took me a few seconds to pull myself out of the haze I was in to keep up.

Of all the showers I had taken, I still couldn't come up with anything to say. I didn't know if I was angry, or hurt, or, dare I say, jealous. She didn't even look back over her shoulder when we reached her house and she started up the stairs. I was left, the echoing sound of her front door closing, standing in her front yard, trying not to cry, or maybe trying to figure out what had just happened.

I sat in the window under the light glow of the moon. There was a weight on me. I wanted to crawl in bed and feel the comfort of my sheets, but I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I sat staring at nothing, thinking of nothing. Why was this bothering me so much? I finally had the perfect material, she was into Pigskin. That should have been enough fuel to last indefinitely, but it seemed like it only drained me of whatever energy I had left.

I knew I needed to establish that I was not weak to her. I had to be the most beautiful, the most intelligent, the most empowered, but the next morning I sat staring at my reflection without moving before putting my hair up, only a little mascara, and a pair of jeans to go with my old t-shirt. I usually wouldn't even go to bed looking that terrible.

I got to school and glimpsed my reflection on the window of an old Honda, jumping at what I saw. My eyes were dark and my hair was frizzy. I looked like I had on painting clothes. I shook my head. No. I would not go in there like this and show her, or anyone, that I was weak, or that anything she did would effect me at all. Nobody gets to have that over me.

I got back in my car and drove to the Brew. I got my normal drink, with an extra shot of espresso, and sat on my normal couch. A boy at the counter was glancing at me. He was cute. Dark hair, tan skin, tall. He had on a Rosewood Sharks shirt from a few years ago, so he was an older boy, and a swimmer too. I felt self-conscious about my disheveled appearance.

He looked like he was about to come over and say hi when the barista touched his hand and batted her eyes, and it was like he had totally forgotten that he had been looking at me like that only a few moments ago. I was angry and I didn't try to hide it. I grimaced and sipped my coffee and looked away from where he was standing.

There was a bulletin board next to the couch that was usually full of flyers 12 year old had made for babysitting, lost dogs, and the library, none of which would ever hold my attention, except for now. I glanced over the ones that had been there forever, poor Sparky had been missing for years, and read the newer ones without much thought. I got halfway through one the high school had posted before I even realized what it was.

Tomorrow night there was a swim meet at 6 o'clock. They were inviting the whole town, trying to get everyone to wear school colors because the opponent was the rivals of Rosewood. There would be a feature of a few swimmers who were destined for full rides to any college they wanted. I heard the bell on the door chime, and the boy was gone.

It occurred to me that I never wanted him to talk to me anyway.