"One day," I muttered angrily. I'd just been standing with you, smiling my perfectly fake smile and laughing along. Being around you always made me like this. I was contiuously mad after being too close and being so fake to your face.
"What?" the girl next to me questioned. I turned to stare at her in confusion. "One day what?" she prompted.
"One day everyone's going to see just how fake she really is. They'll begin to notice all her little faults and catch her in her lies. One day while she's prancing around acting like perfection, they'll notice she was never really who we thought she was. They'll realize her voice is high and annoying and that her eyes aren't beautiful. How could they be if they never met your own because she's always telling a lie? One day they'll see her for who she really is- what she really is."
"And what is that?"
"A bitch." The girl fliched at my harsh language. "Don't be so surprised to hear me say it. You know its true. You know behind her makeup and her lies she's broken and evil. You know she's always desperate for attention because she's unsure of herself. You know it's all true. Look at her next time. Really look at her. Not at the makeup or nice clothing. Look past the forced innocence or the act of self assurance. She's looking for someone to hold her up and support her when she's down, so that she can step all over them when she's built up her rep enough to take over. She doesn't really like you or feel that you're worth something, she's just using you to get to the top."
The girl turned away once I'd finished my speech. She stared straight ahead for a short while and then turned back. "You're right," she whispered. "She only talks to me when she wants something or she wants to get close to someone I'm close to. She always wants to worm her way between me and my friends." She paused a moment before spitting one solitary, harsh word. "Bitch."
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