‘We ARE just too different,’

A tingling sensation bubbled up inside me. My heart pounded against my chest like a sea of rocky waves crashing against a cliff. I could not show any emotion, there were too many tossing around my stomach like butterflies. My eyes widened and my peeling lips stretched into a hearty smile. My strawberry blonde hair blew onto my face. The abrupt rush of cold wind slammed onto my reddened cheeks, and my scarf fluttered in the breeze. 

Standing a mere few feet away from me was the very quixotic yet exhilarating dream of my lifetime, wrapped in a golden brown shawl, golden brown like her magnificent eyes. On her freckled little face sat a dainty little nose and dimpled little cheeks and an exquisite little smile. A soft curtain of copper red curls framed her face. Her ethereal beauty would not be missed.

And I knew instantly that we would be two peas in a pod.

“Hello,” My eager lips were begging for an introduction. I pushed my fogged glasses up the bridge of my nose. 

The girl tilted her head slightly and laughed. Her laugh was extraordinary. It could light up the caliginous corners of the world, and brighten them to a lush, verdant sight. It could seep into the cracks of the earth and bring joy to everyone. “I’m Saffron,”

“Saffron,” I breathed, mesmerised. “What a ravishing name. Mine’s just Janet.” My cheeks flushed. 

“I shall call you Jane,” Wonderful Saffron exclaimed.

“And I shall call you Sofie,” With a giggle, I stepped closer to my newest friend.

8th January 2018, 2 years later

“Sofie,” I whispered. “Sofie, laugh again, please,”

“Oh, Janet! I’m nearly quite fed up with this now,” She replied, her brows knitting together in frustration.

I mumbled incoherently,“Sorry, I can’t help it,” a little ashamed for distressing my closest friend. 

Saffron gave me a half-smile, and I took it to complete it with mine. ‘We all have our differences,’ was what she said. She squeezes my hand emphatically. She’s smart like that.

21st March 2018, Saffron’s birthday

Saffron wrapped her arms around me, and I hugged her tight. 

“Happy 15th Birthday, Saffron Delaney, my sister, companion and friend,” Tears streamed down my face, which was a kaleidoscope of mixed feelings, just like the day we had met. 

Saffron’s glossy lips curved upwards into a perfectly symmetrical smile. “You’re poetic, I’m pretty. What could be a better combination?”

At the mention of her beauty, my grin faltered. I mumbled a “Yep,” in haste. I suddenly took a tenacious interest in my blue faded, worn-out Converse sneakers. I barely heard her say, “Listen, I’m going to get the door, ‘kay? You wait right here.”

While she skipped down the hall, her glittery skirt bouncing, I angrily swiped at my eyes. How dare they water just because of the hopelessness towards my beauty. Frantic and frustrated, I ran my fingers over my wild hair, trying to smooth it down before the guests arrived. I practised my smile once again and distracted my mind with all the decoration.

12th January, 2019

Wow. 3 years since the day we met. Along the time we shared, my mind frequently flashed back to the infamous quote, ‘There is a fine line between love and hate.’ And although we were always precariously teetering on the border, we made it.Throughout our years of joyous sisterhood, we giggled, screamed and squealed, sobbed, cried and wailed, but we did it together, and that was what mattered. 

However, as the saying goes, pain is the price we pay for love and we were forced into parting ways. ‘We’re just too different,’ was all we could say. 

Here’s how it went.

10:08 pm

“Saffron?” My voice was hoarse from calling out her name. “Miss Annalise (the matron of our dorm) is ready to burst at this point!” “And so am I,” I muttered under her breath. I cursed as I trudged down the dim corridor and rubbed my drooping eyes.

“What did you say? I didn’t really hear that last part.” I jumped at the unanticipated sugar-sweet voice behind me. Tucked into my dearest friend’s arm were two orange exercise books. Despite my weariness, she was as bubbly and alive as could be. She flung a grin at me, but I was too exhausted to even toss it back. Saffron frowned. She draped her arm around my shoulders and led my back up to the dormitory.

8:55 am, 13th January, 2019

A light tap frequented my shoulder. I moaned, between asleep and awake. “Five more minuuutessss.”

“No!” Saffron. “We haven’t got much time. Five minutes to nine o’ clock. The dance practice starts in less than half an hour!”

I sit up on my pillow, my eyelids sagging. “What?” When I look up, Saffron is dressed primly like a doll. “When’d you wake up?!”

“Two hours ago.” Curtly.

“Ugh.” Yet another groan.

“So?” Expectant.

“Hmm, you go ahead. I’ll meet you in 45 minutes.” I threw myself back onto the mattress and whacked my forehead for forgetting Saffron’s avid eagerness for her first cheerleading practice. 

I stumbled out of bed and into the washroom. My blonde updo was a bushy mess. I stared at my reflection in the stained glass. Maybe I could be beautiful. An irresistible thought pops into my mind.

No. I shook my head at the nonsensical absurdity. I’ll never be as elegant and pretty and lovely as Saffron. 

Great. Just great. I told my conscience. We agreed not to hold it against Saffron. But- Nope. 

9:51 am, 13th January, 2019

I amble down the steps to find cheer practice in the gym. Hugging a book close to my chest, I sat down on the bleachers. Almost instantaneously, a tall boy with dark, dark hair a little older than me sat down beside me. He smiled. I smiled back. We clicked like any other two nerdy bookworms would. 

As Saffron’s cheer practice ended, I glanced back at Flynn with a half-smile he returned with a wink. When Saffron and I were out of earshot—and eyeshot—she pulled me to a corner. “So,” she said. “What’s his name?”

“John,” My eyebrow lifted. “He loves books. Just like me!”

“Of course he does,” Saffron’s lips pursed. Only until now did I perceive the impertinent sneer in her tone, or recognize the impatient tapping of her foot.

“Saffron?”

“Hmm?” She absently kicked at the ground—more of one of my nervous habits than hers.

“What’s wrong?” My fury jolted in, despite my good intentions, and my voice raised. “Is it because I made a friend? Is it because he’s not vain, and—and not trying to be the centre of attention everywhere he goes? Is it because he’s nothing like any of your real friends?!”

Her lower lip quivered. Then she said the most surprising thing I could ever imagine. “Yes, yes! That’s why. And since you know that all, I suppose you won’t need me, nor want me, anymore! We’re just too different!” With that, she let slip a sob and ran away.

I couldn’t help but softly call out, “We are just too different, but I’ll always love you, as my first real best friend.” A tear crawled down my face and a lump formed in my throat.

I hope she heard me.