are actually looking at me, or like Ginny, Jaci, Holly, or Claire even acknowledge my existence when Sloane’s not standing right next to me.
Still, the ban against wearing the same outfit twice in one week is just one of those unwritten, yet clearly defined, completely understood, universal rules. And with Sloane showing so much promise in her bid to join the social ranks, and withour cheer coming along so well, I’m feeling pretty obligated to do whatever it takes not to become a bigger burden than I already am. I mean, I’m really doing my best to keep my mouth shut whenever I’m feeling unsure what to say (as opposed to nervously yammering on and on about nothing, like I used to do), and am even making a concerted effort to smile
all the time.
Which makes my jaw ache so bad I think it’s giving me TMJ.
But now, standing before my closet with absolutely nothing to wear, I can feel myself getting worked up to the point of hysteria. And, believe me, I’m fully aware of just how ridiculous that sounds. I mean, last year I never used to worry about stuff like this, because once you’re firmly shut out of everything that matters, you’re pretty much free to do as you please and wear whatever you want.
But now that I’m standing on the threshold, and actually have a shot at getting in, it suddenly seems like every little nuance, every minor detail, is not only amplified, but also put right out there for everyone to see and/or
judge.
And I know that if I somehow get it wrong and mess up this early in the game, then the repercussions may very well affect my social standing for
the next three years
!
So, knowing there’s just no way I can scale this peak alone, and that I’m in desperate need of a savvy Sherpa, I grab my cell phone with the full intent of calling Sloane, figuring that not only will she be able to calm me down and walk me through this, but also will help me piece together something really cute to wear. But then just as I’m about to press Talk, it suddenly dawns on me that it’s probably better if I
don’t
talk to her about this. Because even though she’s my best friend (which pretty much means I should be able to call her whenever I want about anything I want), the truth is that things are starting to feel a little unsure and fragile lately. And I just don’t think I’m in any position to ignore the voice in my head that’s urging me to just snap my phone shut and drop it to the ground, nice and easy. Because if I can keep myself from calling her, then she’llnever have to know just how panicky and insecure I feel. Then maybe she’ll stop all the glaring, head-shaking, and acting like I’m some kind of major liability.
It’s like, over the span of the last four days, I feel like I’ve been standing on the sidelines, watching how easy it’s been for her to assimilate. And even though she swears they were just as mean to her that day at the mall, it’s not like I actually witnessed it. So excuse me for wondering if maybe it’s not even true. Like, maybe, buried somewhere deep down inside her Louis Vuitton purse, was a receipt for that Chanel eye pencil, and that she actually just made the entire story up for the sole purpose of making me feel better, and less like a loser.
Yet I’m also starting to notice how lately, it seems like the only time she’s ever nice to me is when Jaci, Holly, and Claire aren’t around. And how the second they show up, she starts totally ignoring me, judging me, and eye-rolling me again. So I guess I’m feeling pretty unwilling to do anything that might encourage that.
“I just don’t get what the problem is,” Autumn says, lounging on her bed in an outfit that looks more like pajamas than school clothes.
“Whatever,” I say, turning to scowl at her. “It’s not like I asked you anyway.”
But unfortunately she’s used to being scowled at by me, so it’s not like it even fazes her. “Why don’t you just wear those jeans you paid way too
Still, the ban against wearing the same outfit twice in one week is just one of those unwritten, yet clearly defined, completely understood, universal rules. And with Sloane showing so much promise in her bid to join the social ranks, and withour cheer coming along so well, I’m feeling pretty obligated to do whatever it takes not to become a bigger burden than I already am. I mean, I’m really doing my best to keep my mouth shut whenever I’m feeling unsure what to say (as opposed to nervously yammering on and on about nothing, like I used to do), and am even making a concerted effort to smile
all the time.
Which makes my jaw ache so bad I think it’s giving me TMJ.
But now, standing before my closet with absolutely nothing to wear, I can feel myself getting worked up to the point of hysteria. And, believe me, I’m fully aware of just how ridiculous that sounds. I mean, last year I never used to worry about stuff like this, because once you’re firmly shut out of everything that matters, you’re pretty much free to do as you please and wear whatever you want.
But now that I’m standing on the threshold, and actually have a shot at getting in, it suddenly seems like every little nuance, every minor detail, is not only amplified, but also put right out there for everyone to see and/or
judge.
And I know that if I somehow get it wrong and mess up this early in the game, then the repercussions may very well affect my social standing for
the next three years
!
So, knowing there’s just no way I can scale this peak alone, and that I’m in desperate need of a savvy Sherpa, I grab my cell phone with the full intent of calling Sloane, figuring that not only will she be able to calm me down and walk me through this, but also will help me piece together something really cute to wear. But then just as I’m about to press Talk, it suddenly dawns on me that it’s probably better if I
don’t
talk to her about this. Because even though she’s my best friend (which pretty much means I should be able to call her whenever I want about anything I want), the truth is that things are starting to feel a little unsure and fragile lately. And I just don’t think I’m in any position to ignore the voice in my head that’s urging me to just snap my phone shut and drop it to the ground, nice and easy. Because if I can keep myself from calling her, then she’llnever have to know just how panicky and insecure I feel. Then maybe she’ll stop all the glaring, head-shaking, and acting like I’m some kind of major liability.
It’s like, over the span of the last four days, I feel like I’ve been standing on the sidelines, watching how easy it’s been for her to assimilate. And even though she swears they were just as mean to her that day at the mall, it’s not like I actually witnessed it. So excuse me for wondering if maybe it’s not even true. Like, maybe, buried somewhere deep down inside her Louis Vuitton purse, was a receipt for that Chanel eye pencil, and that she actually just made the entire story up for the sole purpose of making me feel better, and less like a loser.
Yet I’m also starting to notice how lately, it seems like the only time she’s ever nice to me is when Jaci, Holly, and Claire aren’t around. And how the second they show up, she starts totally ignoring me, judging me, and eye-rolling me again. So I guess I’m feeling pretty unwilling to do anything that might encourage that.
“I just don’t get what the problem is,” Autumn says, lounging on her bed in an outfit that looks more like pajamas than school clothes.
“Whatever,” I say, turning to scowl at her. “It’s not like I asked you anyway.”
But unfortunately she’s used to being scowled at by me, so it’s not like it even fazes her. “Why don’t you just wear those jeans you paid way too
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