Since I wasn't having any luck with Sean, I'm going to digress a little here and talk about my best friend Sandra Jenkins. Sandra was your average Ice Princess with a head of irritatingly perfect blond hair as if she had her own personal stylist, and on first impression she seemed like a snob. After I got to know her, however, I realized she wasn't only snobby, she was also mean and egotistic, but one thing I liked about her was how she always gave her brutally honest opinion on everything. Anything she said behind closed doors she would be comfortable sharing with the world, because that's just how sure of herself she was. You don't expect her to wear a fake smile, the way you don't expect a knockoff Prada bag on me.

I just got over a huge fight with her lately and the process was pretty embarrassing. Usually she thought high schools boys were too immature for her highness and declared that she didn't have time to waste on them, but a while ago she strangely started to develop feelings for Daniel Patterson, the artist. He was the type of person who'd rather talk to the grass as he took photos of it, than to people. Naturally I wouldn't have guessed Sandra's interest, and I only remarked lightly during lunch one day that Dan was kind of cute. He was good-looking in a shaggy, unkempt way if you know what I mean.

Ah, sprezzatura. That's the word. It's like he spent a lot of effort on looking effortless, kind of like the way Sandra weighed her food so that she could calculate the calories, keep fit, then tell people she was a natural size two.

I had no idea Sandra would go berserk, though.

"I thought your recent target is Sean Foster," she said. In retrospect her tone was dark, but at the time I'd failed to notice.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't mind a bit of side dish," I said carelessly. It was only meant as a joke, and I didn't really want Sandra to know how serious I was about Sean. Sandra was always kind of a frenemy and if she knew how Sean brushed me off it'd only delight her. "Dan looks like an easy target. I think I can get him to take me to the homecoming dance just by walking over there right now and snapping my fingers."

Sandra practically ordered me to stay away from him, like I was infected and should be quarantined. She also said lots of nasty stuff which I'll not go into details here. Anyway normally if I knew Sandra liked someone, I let her work her magic. When we met a fresh supply of new guys I always let her choose first. I mean, I wasn't picky (to me there were only Sean and the rest anyway). But this time something about the way she said it (either that or due to the frustration of not getting Sean, since Janet flat out told me he wasn't interested) ticked me off.

"I won't." I glared right back at her.

"You try it and you'll be sorry." Sandra sneered. She stormed off and left that line hanging ominously in the air like a thunder cloud. For the next three days, she completely ignored me to the point that it started to sting. I had always been good to Sandra, and as I smoldered in indignation, I drew up a list about just how fabulous a friend I was:

a. always letting her be boss and deciding what to do, even if she wanted to watch a pretentious French film with subtitles when we could be watching The Avengers instead.

b. handing over the position of cheerleading captain (although to be fair it was too much work for my taste)

c. pulling out of nomination for homecoming queen because I knew she really wanted it (again, too much work, not to mention I didn't wear fake jewelry. Don't get me started on how ugly the tiara was!)

d. supporting her with all my heart even when she was clearly in the wrong (like making Regina cry during cheerleading tryouts)

e. defending her when people called her a bitch (because let's face it Sandra really could give that kind of impression sometimes)

f. last but not least, letting her stand in the back when we took a selfie, so that her face looked smaller

To be honest I thought I was more popular and prettier than she ever would be, but if it made her happy I gladly let her stand under the spotlight. It was like Batman volunteering to follow instead of lead, despite the fact that he had all the cool equipment and a suit with fake abs. I was that selfless.

Flora Morgan didn't respond well to threats, however. I decided that I would not let Sandra take me for granted again, especially when she shunned me for a boy, in cold blood.

I went right ahead and asked Daniel out. This is the way to do things, Sandra. You and your stupid hard-to-get rules are never going to get you anywhere.

Daniel the artist took his DSLR camera and we embarked on a journey to a very dingy part of the city so he could dwell on his photography. Four out of five sentences we shared were about Sandra as he tried to dig out information about her, and one was "Can you hold this for me?" when he bent down to tie his shoelaces. When he finally found his spot for inspiration, he lay himself flat on the pavement so he could take a shot of a homeless man sleeping outside the restaurant, with a used condom dotting the foreground.

"I'm going to amplify it and print it out black and white," Daniel informed me. "The title is going to be existence."

"How about forsaken man and forsaken babies?" I suggested, and he ignored me.

"We eat, we have sex, we sleep, and we die. That's the meaning of human existence," he said, lowering his voice and adding a trace of rasp, as if it would make him more profound. He was so preposterous I suddenly saw how pointless and ridiculous the whole thing was.

I was wasting his time, Sandra's time, and my own time by hanging out with a guy I didn't even like, just so I could prove a point. I wasn't even entirely sure what the point was anymore. What kind of poor investment was that? I should be spending time on working out a plan to attack Fort Sean.

"I can't do this," I announced. "You obviously have a crush on Sandra, and you need to grow a pair and ask her to the dance. You might need to ask her three times before she says yes, but she will, trust me."

Just so it happened, the next day at school I overheard some girls chatting up Sandra while I was in the bathroom stall. They were proving their loyalty by means of attacking me, kissing up to her since they figured the position of Sandra's best friend was up for grabs. I didn't even blame them, frankly. People wanted to be accepted by Sandra partly because she was mean, the same way there's always a huge line outside hip restaurants where the waitresses have attitude problems.

"Didn't she sleep with, like, the whole football team?" one of them asked.

Just the captain. Shouldn't they at least get their facts right before they insulted me? Talk about poor work ethic.

"We're totally on your side," the other chimed in. "She's such a slut."

Lo and behold, at this moment came the wondrous part. "Is bitching about Flora supposed to make me feel good?" Sandra said in that stern tone of hers, like she was Queen Mary I and was giving orders for someone to be executed. "She's not a slut, and I don't like people who use that word. You guys don't even deserve to carry her shopping bags for her."

I almost laughed out loud. Was that a compliment or was she implying I was a senseless shopaholic? I could hear the girls mumbling something and scurrying away like rodents, and when I unlocked the door, Sandra just looked at me embarrassed. She was not used to being caught red-handed when she was acting nice.

"That doesn't mean I forgive you," she said huffily after a tense second.

"Oh, Sandy, but you have to!" I sighed dramatically. "I'm in dire need of someone to carry my shopping bags for me."

She smiled, at first unwillingly, then she broke into laughter and I joined in.

"You wanna go to the mall together after school?" I asked.

"Fine. I'm so sick of fighting with you."

I rushed over to hug her. I felt a little teary, to be honest, but Sandra didn't like mush. We weren't the kind of friends that sent each other hearts and kisses all the time, which just made it all the more real.

"I'm sorry I let something as stupid as high school boys get between us," she said. The fact that Mighty Sandra said sorry first really touched me.

"I'm sorry too. For everything. I know you really like Daniel."

She scoffed. "About as much as one can like a high school guy, which is not all that much. Even stray cats are more likable than they are."

That was typical Sandra, acting like she couldn't care less. I told her how I managed to set things right with Dan and that it looked like they were going to the dance together after all. "Daniel only went out with me because I begged him to," I said. Selfless, I know. "He's not interested in me at all. He couldn't stop talking about you."

"I told you. You always scare guys off with your directness. You should just wait, and they'll come to you when they're ready," Sandra instructed as if she had a license in dating. "It's like feeding wild animals. You just don't start waving your arms and running after them."

"Yes, yes," I agreed, although I didn't buy it one bit. Sean was the type of wild animal who'd rather starve than come to me, for example. Some guys just needed a bit of nudge.

Or a snare so I could trap him.

"Well, I need to make sure of something first." Sandra crossed her arms. "Did you touch any part of Daniel's body? If so I don't want him anymore. I don't do leftovers."

"Relax, Sandy. He's as fresh as a baby bamboo shoot." I tilted my head. "We did talk about condoms and sex, though, if you must know."

Sandra shot me a warning glance and I laughed. I told her what a pretentious little elitist Daniel was and she actually appreciated his talent! She liked his idea of human existence!

"Oh for god's sake, Sandy, please get him away from me. That was one of the worst dates of my life. The horror...the horror..." I started to imitate Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now and Sandra laughed and hit me.

I giggled. We stood in front of the mirror together and checked our makeup, which might as well be the epitome of female bonding. I snuck a peek and found a discreet smile playing at her lips. Ah, I loved seeing her happy, and now that it was taken care of, I thought it was my turn for happiness. This is the way Karma works, right?

And that evening, things finally started to unravel.

***