Like A Witch [Under Construction]

one

CLARY ADAMS DESPERATELY needed her own episode of 'What Not to Wear'. With a head of scraggly dishwater-brown hair and a faceful of cakey makeup, it was hard not to watch her cross the cafeteria. Her pink flowery dress and bleached blue-jeans would honestly make Stacey and Clinton scream.

Mia leaned over, her cheeks stuffed with lettuce, and hissed, "Look at her! Yellow sequined flowers. On jeans. And they aren't even on the pockets. Who does that?"

"I'm still trying to figure out how she managed to squeeze into them," Natalie snickered. She brushed a loose strand of golden hair from her flawless face and added, "I mean, just look at those love-handles!"

I lifted my bottled water to my lips, watching as Clary sat down at an empty table and unwrapped a brown paper bag. A small surge of guilt trickled through my veins —the feeling was pretty normal now. It also wasn't that hard to ignore.

"And here I thought jeans were supposed to look good on everybody," I said.

Laughter bubbled through the cafeteria air. Clary glanced back over her shoulder, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. I seriously doubted that she could actually hear what we said, but it was pretty obvious that we were talking about her. Natalie's lips curled around a wicked grin. Mia took another bite of her salad and ran her fingers through her inky long bob, trying to keep her short hair out of her face. I shifted my gaze to the table, a smile plastered to my face.

Cue another wave of guilt crashing through me, twisting my stomach into knots.

That guilty feeling lingered. It festered inside my chest, almost like an angry swarm of bees. I started to wonder if I'd taken it too far. I mean, I honestly haven't really talked to Clary. I'm pretty certain that she's an incredibly nice person. Like 'volunteers-at-local-soup-kitchen' level nice.

But I can't help it. It's just so much easier to be mean.

Like I'm popular —it's literally my job.

I'm not as popular as Natalie. Natalie Johnson was my best friend and the current reigning 'it' girl of Paradise High. She rose to fame about a year ago when she dated our old quarterback, Noah Rose. And even now, after Noah had graduated and Natalie was considered a free woman, her status as queen bee remained intact.

It was a lot of pressure, but the job wasn't really that hard. All I had to do to keep my spot as Natalie's number two was make her laugh and criticize the world around us. And given my naturally sarcastic nature, it came pretty easy. Being mean was just an unfortunate side-effect.

When the laughter died out, we returned to our usual lunch activities. Mia munched on the rest of her salad, absently thumbing through Instagram on her phone. Natalie readjusted her false eyelashes, a neon green compact in hand. She'd already finished eating, her plastic tray pushed toward the other end of the table. I people-watched. It was one of my favorite hobbies. I never really ate lunch —Mom always made a huge breakfast, so I was never really hungry come lunchtime. I fiddled with my water-bottle and quietly watched a table nearby play with a deck of cards.