EnVY
Is a GiRL’S
BeST FrIENd
GRAPHIC DESIGN
Senior Thesis Project
written by
alaina silva illustrationS & book design by
victoria maggard
rs. Krumhorn’s second grade class was bright, colorful, and full of smiling faces — except for mine. Due to my social anxiety, mine was more of a constant scowl, hoping to get through the day with minimal eye contact from the other kids. At the time, I wasn’t aware that it was my anxiety that made me a grumpy child, but I definitely knew I wasn’t like the other kids in class. One day, early on in the school year, Mrs. Krumhorn let us have a coloring day, which is every second grader’s dream. But much to my disappointment, we had to pair up with another kid in the class. Like any time you have to pick a partner in a class that you don’t have any friends in, I scanned the room looking for someone to acknowledge me. I looked to my left, toward the front of the classroom, and staring back at me with a huge smile on her face was Victoria Maggard. I didn’t know her that well, but had played with her a couple of times during recess in first grade. Not having any other options, I walked over and sat down at the desk directly behind hers, and we just started coloring. I was focused on trying my best to stay inside the lines, as I had realized early on in life that I wasn’t good at many things without trying. I rummaged through one of the old coloring boxes the teacher provided, trying to find the least broken crayons. I’m not even sure what was said or what I did that was so funny, but all of a sudden Victoria burst into a horrible fit of giggles. I laughed a good bit, then went back to my coloring. But Victoria didn’t stop.
1
She just kept Laughing.
And Laughing.
And Laughing. It wasn’t long before some of the other kids were staring, and because of my nerves, I dreaded the thought of getting in trouble. I started to get frustrated with her, not understanding why she wouldn’t just stop.
I remember
but
repeatedly telling her to be quiet,
she just
Laughing.
kept
The worst word I knew at this age was
“shutup”
(which I used quite a bit), so I laid it out on her, maybe more than once.
Unfortunately, my harsh words spoken through
gritted teeth and my
face red with
embarrassment only made
her laugh harder. After that day, all I knew was that I never wanted to color with Victoria again.
3
uch to my surprise, by fifth grade we had become friends. I’m not even sure how it happened, but like most kids, we bonded over just about anything. Our friendship mainly consisted of waiting in line together to buy a snack during lunch, usually a pickle, or playing on the monkey bars at recess. I was still very antisocial, but Victoria introduced me to a lot of new people to be awkward around. I don’t know if there’s such a thing as being popular in elementary school, but if there is, Victoria was. Everyone loved Victoria. She had countless friends and all of the prepubescent boys wanted to chase her around on the playground or compete with her to see who could jump the highest off the swings. Looking back at it, I’m not sure why Victoria wanted to be my friend, but nevertheless, she let me follow her around school. Sometimes, she was kind enough to walk the mile back to the bathroom with me in the middle of recess when my tiny bladder was about to explode. She even sat with me at lunch so that she could poke the straw through my bag of milk for me. And while all of those trivial things don’t mean much anymore, she was probably the nicest person to me in elementary, and she always put up with my severe anxiety. She constantly dealt with my “what ifs?” and my fear of impulsive decisions.
he first time Victoria invited me over to her house was for her birthday party the summer after fifth grade; a sleepover consisting of all those girls that followed her around in school. I remember staying up all night because I didn’t want to be one of the girls that fell asleep early and got Sharpie drawn all over her face. While I’m sure I was not much fun that first night, Victoria kept inviting me over to every sleepover she had, which was quite a bit considering her parents never minded having a few screaming girls running around the house and eating all of their food. I went to every one of those sleepovers until, eventually, I was the only one she wanted around. By the time we started school at Folsom Junior High, I considered her my best friend. I actually lucked out with having her around because junior high went much the same as elementary did. Victoria was more popular than ever, and I was her awkward friend that looked about five years younger than I actually was. It didn’t help that Victoria hit puberty at a much younger age than I did. We made a very awkward looking pair of friends for a good two years, until I finally grew a couple inches taller and gained a few pounds. Unfortunately for my boobs, that was the extent of my development. We had many different tastes, especially in the 7th grade when I donned a boxy cheerleading uniform that could have fit a small child. Even though I sucked, Victoria still cheered me on at all the football games. Though we looked very different, our personalities were starting to become increasingly similar, and we found a way to make boring school days interesting. Like when we decided to join Agriculture and judge chickens, even though we couldn’t care less about the color of the chicken’s butthole or how yellow its beak was (both of which are very important to proper chicken judging apparently).
5
y 8th grade, I decided to trade in my cheerleading uniform for a pair of dirty converse, a Jack Skellington beanie, and as much black as I could possibly fit into my outfit without breaking the dress code. While my fashion choices were a bit extreme, Victoria still followed me down the grungy road of the “emo” phase, and soon we were listening to My Chemical Romance and fawning over how cute Pete Wentz was. Going through this horrible phase actually brought us closer together, due mostly to the fact that none of our other friends wanted to listen to our crappy music. So by the time we began high school, our social scene consisted of anyone with straightened bangs in front of their face, wearing a stud belt and a band t-shirt. With our new found freedom from the dress code, I took my Jack Skellington outerwear collection to the next level and amped up the black eyeliner, while Victoria played it cool with her usual converse, gray skinny jeans, and v-neck. Despite our fashion choices, we did make friends...well, two friends. Tommy and Cas were probably the most awkward guys at Covington High, but they were the only ones who understood our angsty teen selves. Most of our days after school were spent running around downtown Covington or annoying Tommy’s parents at his house. But when we weren’t with Tommy and Cas, Victoria and I spent most of our time creating chaos at her parents’ place.
had gotten to know Terry and Charlie pretty well over the years, and while Terry usually evil-eyed me for eating all of his Little Debbie Cakes, her parents were fun to be around. Or at least they were more pleasant to be around than my own parents. Being a typical teenager, I thought the worst of my parents and constantly fought with them over stupid things. This would ultimately end up with me banging on Victoria’s door late at night with as many bags as I could carry. Because my relationship with my parents wasn’t exactly ideal, witnessing Victoria’s relationship with her parents was always a shock to me. I kind of assumed parents were supposed to say no to everything and shoo you away when you started to vent about your trivial school problems, but Terry and Charlie always seemed to defy those stereotypes. Victoria could whine and throw fits when they would say no to something (which was rare), but they usually didn’t end in a screaming match with things being thrown around the house. Victoria could complain all she wanted about her stupid high school problems, and her parents would even mute their TV shows to genuinely listen and give their advice. While Terry and Charlie were always there to listen to my problems and give me advice as well, I was still extremely jealous of Victoria’s relationship with them. I never understood the point of her hugging and kissing both of her parents before leaving the house or her wanting to tell them every detail of her life. Yet I still found myself missing what I knew they had with each other. It didn’t help that Victoria was practically an only child, only having an older sister who had moved out way before I came along.
7
Her parents not only showered her with
gifts.
love, but also with
Anything Victoria wanted, she got and more. It seemed like every time I showed up at her house, I found something she had been wanting laying around her room.
It was always the
worst
during Christmas time.
I grew up with a sister who is four years older than me, and my parents were never considered wealthy people. Meaning that every Christmas morning, we would awake to the same number of presents under the tree, usually consisting of a few things we had been wanting and then some pajamas that my mother tried to pass off as gifts.
I
never felt
ungrateful for my gifts though, that is,
until I would stop by Victoria’s house later in the day to exchange presents with her. Days leading up to Christmas morning, her Christmas tree was filled to the top with different sized boxes, and upon seeing my look of disgust she would usually exclaim,
"Those are mostly for other people, not me!”
But it never surprised me on Christmas day when I would see her room cluttered with brand new DVDs, CDs, and random crap that she probably didn’t even want. What I was really jealous of was always the big presents she got, which varied from a new Xbox, a very expensive four-wheeler,
and even
a damn
dog
one year (RIP Petie, we miss you).
While my jealousy would eventually subside after I realized that I also got to play with everything Victoria got for Christmas, it didn’t make Christmas morning any less disappointing every year when I showed up on her doorstep. However, my disappointment never truly stemmed from gifts and material things — it mostly came from the love that her parents showed her.
It made me
long
for that kind of relationship with my own.
9
ur “emo” phase had substantially subsided by our sophomore year of high school as we longed for friends who weren’t hormonal boys with long, unbrushed hair. After the shameful era came the “scene” phase, which fortunately meant much cuter clothes, but you could still keep your hair in front of your face and dye it any color you wanted. It wasn’t until we met Gabby that we realized maybe we should trade in our converse for some nice flats and a colorful cardigan. Gabby was smack dab in the middle of the small “scene” group at Covington High, and we automatically knew we wanted to be friends with her, almost solely because she looked cool and had older friends. Victoria was still the one everyone was first drawn to, so her and Gabby instantly became friends. Besides their difference in fashion choices, they shared a love of art and both constantly doodled in their notebooks. Seeing as how I couldn’t even master drawing stick people, I worried that we wouldn’t have anything in common besides our ability to pass as junior high kids due to our height. But it didn’t take me long to realize that even though Gabby hung out with older kids that had tattoos, lip rings, and smoked cigarettes, she was significantly weirder than Victoria and I combined. While I was a bit jealous that Gabby and Victoria had something in common that I could never be a part of, hanging out with the two of them was by far my favorite thing to do. Before Gabby came along, I was always the ditzy blonde with zero common sense, which resulted in Victoria making fun of me every time I face planted onto the floor
or embarrassingly misheard song lyrics. Even though Gabby was far from blonde, that didn’t stop her from doing some of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen someone do. For the first time in my life, I could make fun of someone else. It’s possible that I ragged on Gabby more than I should have, which is probably why she never appreciated my taste for sarcasm, but it wasn’t my fault that she set herself up for every joke I threw at her. She was famous for doing things without thinking first. Like when Victoria witnessed Gabby pierce her own lip while almost passing out on her bathroom floor, or watching her fall out of her bedroom window while trying to sneak a boy out of her house when her parents came home early. For her birthday one year, we were too young to do anything crazy so we decided to just hangout at Victoria’s house like the cool kids we were. We bought her one of those cheap Walmart cookie cakes that we had “Freak Child” written on, a nickname that I don’t even remember how she got but yet still seems fitting. When it was time to blow out the candles, she leaned forward and her hairspray coated, overly layered, long hair caught flame. We all kind of froze while Gabby screamed, and my first reaction was to vigorously swat at her hair, flailing my hands about, while Victoria sat glued to her chair in shock. While you couldn’t tell that she had lost any hair because of her razored layers, the cake was now covered with bits and pieces of her burnt hair, complete with burnt hair smell. Of course we still ate the cake, but that was one thing we’ll never let Gabby live down. It’s moments like that one that make me remember the fun times we all had when life was still simple.
11
abby saved us from our “emo” phase and gave of us some of the best memories (and videos) we’ve ever had. But while she made high school that much more bearable, it didn’t take long for someone else to come along and ruin all of those good times. I remember seeing Dillon my freshman year of high school in gym and homeroom; he was tall, blonde, slightly goofy looking, and always had the attention on him because he constantly cut up in class. He seemed likable enough, so I asked Victoria if she had seen him around. And she had. I got to know Dillon over time and I didn’t think much of him; I found he was always too over the top, constantly annoying the teachers until he would get kicked out of class. He was loud, vulgar, and hung out with the type of kids who wrote “fuck school” on the top of their desks, usually complementing their horrible grades. I didn’t know Victoria was interested in him aside from his looks, but by sophomore year, to my overwhelming shock, they started dating. It didn’t take long for me to realize that this was that point in every girl’s life where their best friend would become utterly obsessed with
her first serious boyfriend. While that’s upsetting to begin with, it was that much worse because it was someone that I never pictured Victoria with. At this point in high school we were both still innocent virgins, never downing more than a couple of Mike’s Hard Lemonades at a “party.” The fact that Victoria wanted to hangout with someone like Dillon completely baffled me. He just seemed like such a loser and a bad student; I had no idea perfect Victoria would ever be interested in him. All of those things that threw me off about Dillon seemed to intrigue her. I guess because her parents kept her much more sheltered than my parents kept me, and it was almost a way of rebelling and telling the world that she wasn’t always “the good one.” He pushed her to try new things, something that I never did because I was always the pussy in our friendship. As she spent more time with him, it was clear she had found a new best friend; someone that wasn’t afraid to get intro trouble and live a little. Our time spent together during and after school was almost entirely diminished, and she started to hangout exclusively with his friends. I was lucky if we even texted every once in awhile just to gossip about the new rumors being spread through school. I guess our declining friendship wasn’t entirely her fault, as I honestly couldn’t stand to be around Dillon; especially his dumbass friends who couldn’t even hold a conversation. I spent some days trying to make being a third wheel work, but seeing their utter obsession with each other was sickening. It also didn’t help that most of the time Dillon made fun of me for everything I did, so it didn’t exactly make me crazy about spending time with him. She was blind to the fact that we didn’t like each other; either that or she just didn’t care what I thought anymore. I finally started to give up and accept that maybe my friendship with Victoria had run its course, and I figured that’s just what happens with best friends - at some point there has to be a falling out or you just eventually grow apart.
13
ome time into their relationship, Victoria would text me to catch me up on all of the crazy things she had been doing. Her stories don’t seem so reckless now, but back then it was like she had gone off the deep end. I remember one night she got busted by her parents for sneaking out and drinking with Dillon and his friends. Obviously it wasn’t something uncommon for high schoolers, but it was jaw-dropping to me because Victoria would have never betrayed her parents’ trust like that before. All of these new things she was doing didn’t sound like her at all, and it honestly made me angry. I have a special way of putting people down for their bad decisions, and I used that against her. Just hearing about Dillon and her stupid life choices pushed me to speak my mind, and our conversations usually ended in a fight. She wasn’t the same person I knew anymore, and it was because of him. I resented him for changing her, and I resented him for taking away my best friend. But the worst part about Victoria dating Dillon was that I knew one day he would eventually bring her down with him, and things would not end well between them.
y junior year, I had found a new boyfriend that I was trying to fill that lonely void with. Victoria and I went our separate ways for the most part. Even though at this point there wasn’t much resentment between us, we still barely talked to each other. Eventually I found out that Victoria had found a new love, besides Dillon of course. She was accepted into the Talented Art Program at school, and I knew she had always been good at drawing so I was happy that she was focusing on herself more. But just because I was happy didn’t mean I wasn’t a little jealous that she was doing something she was really passionate about. I had never had a real hobby and I had never found anything I was good at, so on a whim, I joined the tennis team at Covington High. This was terrifying considering when I played sports at a younger age, I was always the kid that sat on the bench until our coach knew we were too ahead for me to make us lose. To my surprise, within the first couple of practices I found that I wasn’t half as bad as some of the other girls on the team. Even though I was happy that I stepped out of my comfort zone and for once tried to pursue something without Victoria by my side, I was still relieved when she suddenly decided to join the team with me. Seeing as how she was never the star player at any sport either, it was surprising that she wanted to try her hand at tennis. I didn’t question it because it was the only time I ever got to see her anymore, and maybe one of the reasons she joined was to spend more time with me. I was also relieved that Dillon usually stayed out of sight during practice, so for once I didn’t have to see him when I was around her.
15
So Victoria and I bought some cheap racquets and officially teamed up as doubles partners.
At least this way if we sucked,
we would
suck
And that’s exactly what we did.
together.
While it was hard enough learning a new sport in general, learning one together proved to be even more difficult because of
our tempers.
Victoria and I have never been the type of friends that are overly sweet to each other, and we had a problem with hurting each other’s feelings.
never
So during practice, and unfortunately games as well, it wasn’t uncommon for us (mainly me) to throw our racquets down in anger and blame each other for missing the shot. These outbursts usually included something along the lines of,
“Son of a fucking you
bitch,
were supposed to get that god dammit!
”
This kind of anger usually only came out when we played a crappy school that we actually had a chance of beating. If we played a private school where the girls came out of the womb practicing their serve, we usually just laughed off the balls that zoomed past us while we were still in our crouched “ready” position. Either way, our coach wasn’t very fond of our antics on the court and he definitely wasn’t a fan of our screaming matches, which typically resulted in a few less than disapproving side eye glances from him.
It’s funny how getting your make you
appreciate
But we
didn’t care.
frustrations
out on someone can
them more, because we regained our
friendship
by just being able to scream at each other over a pointless tennis match. It also helped that we bonded over making fun of everyone else on the team, because making fun of other people had always been a hobby of ours.
17
y senior year, it was obvious that neither of us were going to be the next Sharapova. I traded in my racquet and balls for some scrubs to work at a vet clinic after school, but Victoria stuck with the team. I think she even got a bit better now that she didn’t have to waste her energy competing with her own teammate. However, for the first time, not everything worked out for Victoria. Unfortunately for her, I was right about Dillon all along. His “bad kid” behavior started to turn into something more serious, and he eventually made some regretful decisions that tore them apart. I guess any decent friend would have been consoling regardless of the situation, but compassion was never my strong suit. Even though she was hurting, I sort of rubbed it in her face that I had been right about Dillon. I threw in a few “I told you so” comments, but eventually I just let her vent to me about it, while I told her a few reassuring words through gritted teeth.
s with any breakup, some good came out of Dillon and Victoria going their separate ways. One of course being that I got my best friend back. It may not have been under the best circumstances, but all that really mattered was that she was stuck with me once again. The second good thing was that she had more time to work on what she loved, which just so happened to be art. Since we had gone quite awhile without speaking, I wasn’t aware of what she had been up to in class the past year.
19
So one day she forced me to take what felt like a mile long hike across school to the tiny Talented Art shack that looked
like someone had
vomited paint all over
The inside didn’t look any less like an
acid trip,
but I got to see all of her
current projects. She showed me everything she had learned, from to
painting,
to
sculpting.
it.
drawing,
I was honestly taken aback. The last
time she had showed me anything was when she was still sketching random pictures she had seen on the internet. And while those were impressive, they weren’t anything special.
But these pieces she was creating were
on another
leveL.
Victoria has always been good at everything she attempted, and by that I mean she was good at things like Dance Dance Revolution, hide and seek, and climbing trees. While I always admired her for having those skills, I had never actually seen her great at anything.
But as soon as I saw her work, I knew she had
found her
talent.
That was pretty impressive considering half of the students at Covington High could barely write in complete sentences, let alone
master an art form. envied her skill, I knew I was never going to be good creating art, so I was able to put aside my jealousy
Although I at
in order to just be
proud
of what she was accomplishing.
21
ven though Victoria was busy with Talented Art and my only concern was not failing senior year, we did have a lot of free time. The group of friends that we would occasionally sit with at lunch actually turned into some of our best friends that year. Evan was the logical, good-looking one who was quick to shut down any of our ignorant comments. Adam was the goofy one who knew everyone because he just had to be involved in every school activity. Winston was the witty, awkward, creative one who would occasionally show us his sweet side. Joey was the funny one who stole all of his jokes from Family Guy but we still laughed at them. Josh was the one you wanted to punch in the face. Ryan was the quiet, intelligent one who didn’t say much but would give out disapproving looks to us on the regular. And Erica was perfect in every way because she was just like Victoria and I, except much better dressed. We made for an awkward group of friends, and while we were far from popular, we still thought we were cool enough to get involved in everything around school. Like that time we decided to put countless hours into building an amateur float for the Homecoming parade, only for everyone to give us no more than a passing glance as they eagerly awaited the floats for the cheerleaders and football players. While our horribly under-appreciated float was a reflection of our entire high school career, it was still a fun week of fucking around at school and just spending time together. We also never missed a football game to cheer on Erica and Josh, the two greatest drum majors to ever grace the field of Jack Salter Stadium. As senior year was coming to end, we abandoned our school spirit to spend more time together. We headed off to Florida for spring break where we stayed in a crappy hotel room in order to splurge on beer and liquor. It was the first time we were able to let go of our school anxiety and just relax, and even though it was hard to leave the beach, we all had senior trip at Disney World to look forward to.
ith our bags packed, we all anxiously awaited to board that stuffy bus and start the miserable 12-hour bus ride to the happiest place on Earth. I thought if I could survive that bus ride by choking down every bit of car sickness I felt along the way, that I could enjoy the three days of fun ahead of me. But as we stumbled off the bus at our first stop at Blizzard Beach, the real fun began. With my legs locked and my hands forcefully clutching my stomach, I ran into the nearest bathroom I could find and felt the full wrath of my irritable bowel syndrome. About halfway through the day, I reluctantly put on a bathing suit out of fear that my group would abandon me. While Victoria is an understanding person, her frustration with my bowels was apparent, and unfortunately my shitty situation was just a foreshadow for how the rest of the trip was going to go.
lthough my stomach was still making gurgling sounds the next day, I forced myself to ride some rides and try to have a good time, though most of our group had given up on having fun with me around. Plus we had grad night to look forward to where Disney World Kingdom open all night for the seniors.
23
While most of the other seniors were partying with the god awful musical entertainment (aka Tao Cruz), Victoria, Winston, Erica, DaKota and I were scrambling around the park trying to find something new to ride.
Halfway through the night, we calmed down enough to catch our breath and
the
sky light up with the best
fireworks
watch
money could
buy. We stood in the middle of the park, staring up the sky and taking in the moment. Until Victoria’s
ear-splitting screams brought us all back to reality.
Startled and confused, I stared at her as she rubbed her hands across her face, still screaming. It wasn’t clear what had happened until she moved her hands to reveal her
eye completely black with ash. Scowling, she finally pointed to the gunk and yelled,
“There’s a
fucking FIrework in my eye!”
I almost started to laugh because of how she said “firework” in her eye, but she instantly burst into tears and ran into
good friend that he was, Winston ran into the bathroom
the the nearest bathroom. I ran in to find her awkwardly
to help her out because she wasn’t listening to my
splashing water in her eye in an attempt to get some relief.
good advice. Along with my inability to console people,
Between her cursing and swearing, I tried to coach her on her
I also
amateur
splashing
severely lack
sympathy, so I only grew more and more
technique,
but her anger was not exactly mixing well with my impatience.
frustrated that we were missing out on riding Space
After a few minutes of pointless arguing and yelling back and
Mountain until we puked. After what seemed like hours,
forth, I gave up and retreated back to our group. Like the
the two emerged from the bathroom with Winston’s arm around Victoria’s shoulders to calm her down.
As soon as I saw the
enraged look
stained, mascara-smeared crusty, red eye, I knew
face
with
tearswollen,
on her
that
the night was officially over.
Because when Victoria is
pissed
about something,
she stays pissed for a
very,
very
long
time.
25
o no one’s surprise, we didn’t ride anymore rides that night. The next day was a blur because we were all exhausted from all the fun we were having, so we walked aimlessly through the parks until it was time to board that stuffy bus once more. It was undoubtedly the worst trip we had ever taken, and from then on, all we could think about was graduation and getting the hell out of high school.
hile high school wasn’t a first-rate experience for Victoria and I, we still had high hopes for college. We were off to Louisiana State University, bright-eyed, excited, and ready to be independent. Unfortunately, our first year at LSU wasn’t all that we thought it would be, but we had come to learn that nothing ever is. Most of our friends from our group in high school went to the same college, but we all had different interests when we got there. It wasn’t just our other friends that we didn’t get to see though; we also didn’t get to see each other. She was forced to live in Prairieville, the middle of fucking nowhere, and I had to rent an overpriced shithole next to campus. While Victoria had to live with her annoying cousin for free rent because she was a slacker without a job, I actually liked my roommates. While they were fun to live with, I missed having my old friends around, and most of all I missed having Victoria around. I barely ever saw her during the semester; she was always focused on school, and I was struggling to keep my grades up along with working full time. Victoria was enjoying
her college level art classes that challenged her, while I, on the other hand, was drowning in a very difficult International Relations degree. Since she lived so far away, she was never right around the corner when I needed to vent to her, so I tried to fix my problems with school in a different way. I made a quick trip to the doctor and came home with a bottle of anti-depressants, which I thought would help me stop worrying about everything, and I was right. I didn’t care about school, my job, or my real friends. I started going out every night with my coworkers who never gave a shit about school and only urged me to do the same. My drunken nights of partying in Tigerland and my head-splitting hangovers only gave me more reason to not go to class, and soon I was failing out of my dream school. I barely even talked to Victoria anymore because I wasn’t concerned with anyone, not even myself. I soon found it unbearable to leave the confines of my bed due to my newfound depression, despite the name of the meds I was on. Our friendship suffered again that year, especially when she began hanging out more with our high school friend Cathryn who just happened to live in the same neighborhood out in Bumfuck, Egypt. I was jealous of their ability to hangout whenever they wanted to, and I was even more jealous of the fact that Victoria was doing so well in school. For the first time in our lives, the tables had turned and now I was the one struggling to pass tests. She was also becoming better at art, and it didn’t take her long to realize she made the right decision to be a graphic design major. While she was confident, I was unsure about everything in my life. Nothing had gone as I had planned, and of course life was just working out for Victoria like it always did.
27
s if it couldn’t get any worse, I eventually found out that Victoria was talking to Dillon again. It took me awhile to figure it out, as I barely knew what was happening in her life anymore aside from her occasional posts on Facebook. When she finally verified my suspicions, I was furious, and for good reason. He had fucked her over and now she was just magically back with him? I couldn’t believe she would make the same mistake that so many ignorant girls make. She repeatedly tried to assure me that he had sobered up and was a different person, but I remained skeptical. Even if he had changed, I knew that Victoria was again going to vanish from my life, even more than she already had. I didn’t want to go back to the days when every time I asked her to hangout, she had already made plans with Dillon. It broke my heart, and I felt more alone than I had ever felt before.
fter a few months, I realized that Dillon was going to be sticking around for awhile. I put away memories of him being a complete asshole, and when I could force myself to leave my apartment, I spent time with both of them, but only because
hanging out with Victoria alone wasn’t exactly an option anymore. I was both annoyed and pleasantly surprised that Victoria had been right about him. It was like Dillon was a completely new person, aside from his forever-open mouth and that goofy look he has when he laughs at his own stupid jokes. Over time, it was obvious how the two felt about each other, and eventually I had to accept that Dillon was done making bad life decisions and that maybe he was meant to walk back into Victoria’s life. While my resentment toward their relationship subsided, my jealousy toward Victoria’s life only grew. She was doing well in school, working toward a degree that was perfect for her, dating a guy that loved her, and enjoying her life because she didn’t have to work long hours at a job she hated. As her best friend, I was supposed to be happy for her, but I couldn’t be. I didn’t need anyone to tell me what a shitty person that made me, because I already knew it.
espite my first year at LSU turning out to be the complete opposite of what I had envisioned, I did finally manage to pull myself out of the rut I was in. As soon as Victoria told me that she would be moving away from that god awful town, I knew things were starting to look up. When she told me that we would be living together, I made a promise to myself that I would make my second year living in Baton Rouge worth all of the bad times I had put myself through. We moved into a tiny, three-bedroom apartment on one of the sketchiest streets near LSU with our favorite Asian (the only Asian) from Covington High. Victoria, Danielle, and I argued as much as any group of college girls sharing one bathroom could argue, but living together kept things interesting. The first day we moved in, I found three kittens that Victoria and I begged Danielle to let us keep. She eventually caved in to our constant
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whining and agreed to let us keep two, but on the condition that she could also have a pet. Not really knowing Danielle that well, I didn’t really see the harm in that agreement. We didn’t exactly expect Danielle to go through a rat, a hermit crab, and a ferret, only to have disastrous results before having to give each one away. Except for the hermit crab; she killed him, god rest his soul. When we weren’t holding our breath over what weird pet Danielle was going to bring home next, we were fighting over who was going to clean the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink or who was going to haul the overflowing trash bag down three flights of stairs. We argued about every last thing that annoyed us until we would all just lock ourselves in our bedrooms to work on our never-ending school assignments. But all of those petty arguments were worth being able to barge into Victoria’s room to ask what we were going to go get for dinner, or being able to take the mile long trek to campus together in 100 degree heat. Living with Victoria felt like the days back in junior high when I was constantly at her house; when we had fun even when we weren’t doing anything at all; when we could be bored together instead of being bored by ourselves.
y nights of getting wasted at sleazy college bars and making bad decisions were long gone, but we still found ways to have a good time. Winston and Joey happened to live right across the street from our apartment complex in a run-down duplex that they shared with a few other people from Covington. There were long nights spent over there, sometimes just laying around, drinking some beers, and listening to everyone jam on some banjos and guitars. Other times they had real parties. There was always that one person nobody knew who got entirely too fucked up, like one guy who pissed himself while passed out on the couch.
Those were the nights when we would stumble down the street at 3 a.m. to devour some greasy Canes, and on a few occasions Dillon would have to carry me home on his back, including up those three flights of stairs. Dillon’s ability to carry me home was just one of the reasons I had come to appreciate him. While he was always at our apartment eating our food and making our place smell like cigarettes, I appreciated him at parties where we could make fun of drunk people together or play a round of beer pong because Victoria hated (and still hates) beer. I think at those parties we both learned how much in common we had, at least when we weren’t arguing over something pointless.
ven though we always had a good time at Winston and Joey’s parties, we eventually got sick of always walking down to their house just to ease our boredom. So we finally decided to stop worrying about people trashing our place and have a party of our own. Danielle being the homebody she is didn’t want to do anything for her 21st birthday. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen, so Victoria tossed up some cheap Halloween decorations around the apartment and we threw her a birthday/Halloween party. After hours of trying to find the perfect costumes, Victoria and I got the bright idea to convince Dillon and my then boyfriend Payden to dress up with us as Mean Girls. For some odd reason they both loved the idea, so when it came time for the party we were all dressed up in wigs, tank tops, and mini skirts. Dillon and Payden even perfected the hand on the hip, duck face pose. Danielle being the “animal lover” that she is decided she wanted to dress up as a deer she saw on Pinterest, complete with brown leggings and twig antlers. Although she actually looked quite cute, the look didn’t last very long.
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By 10:00, some of our friends started to show up, so we decided to start the night off right with a couple of shots from
Danielle’s stash of Jäger.
But as Victoria and I started to walk around and bullshit with our friends, we both noticed that every time someone new showed up to the party,
Danielle would greet
them with a
Jäger.
shot of
She was
laughing
It wasn’t until about 11:30 that we walked back to the
Hysterically
kitchen and saw her being held up between our friends
with her eyes half open and her
Cory and Cody, her twigs hanging off her head and her
face beat red
black deer makeup smeared across her face from sweat.
from the alcohol due to her
Asian genetics. It was painful to watch her
around,
sloppy self
stumble
so we were soon hauling her off to
her bedroom where she collapsed on the floor and
went
wake up to then
straight
vomit,
proceeding
to
go
to
sleep. She
would
only
usually missing the trash can and back
to
sleep
in
her
own
mess.
Victoria being the good friend she was, stuck around to take care of her with a few others, while I slipped out of the room to rejoin the party.
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nfortunately my sensitive stomach ruined my good time due to the nauseous feeling I got picturing Danielle vomit. I stopped drinking altogether when Cathryn came barging down the hallway past me, smearing vomit down my arm as she carried Danielle’s stained comforter to the washing machine. For the most part everyone was aware of the chaos going on in the next room, so realizing the party was going downhill, they all left pretty early in the night. The next morning, Danielle was somehow still alive and still sleeping in her vomit with Victoria sitting next to her to make sure she was at least going to wake up. Our apartment was a disaster, but we were so exhausted that we didn’t care about the beer spilled all over the floor and the mass amount of red Solo cups littering the tables and counters. When Danielle finally woke up that morning in her vomit-stained Halloween costume, she looked like death. Once we explained to her in detail how her 21st birthday went, she laughed it off, shrugged, and said she had a good time. She may have only been conscious for about an hour and a half of her own party, but as long as she had fun that’s all that really mattered.
ven though Victoria was too busy being a mom at Danielle’s 21st birthday, my 21st birthday made up for it. My whole life I had dealt with crappy August birthdays constantly ruined by hurricanes and tropical storms, but I vowed to make my 21st a good one. So with mother nature’s approval, my sister and her boyfriend, along with Victoria, Dillon, and I headed to New Orleans. Victoria and I had entirely too much fun gambling for the first time at Harrah’s, even though we were just pissing away money that we didn’t have. Then we walked down to Bourbon to grab some disgustingly sweet Hand Grenades to make sure we were nice and drunk before entering the magical world of Hustler’s. Obviously my memory of that night is a little hazy, but I will never forget coming back from the bathroom, knees bloody from tripping up the stairs, to see Victoria with a pair of boobs smashed against her face and Dillon eagerly watching with a dollar bill between his teeth. From what I can remember, that night was one example of how easy being a third wheel was with Victoria and
Dillon. Any leftover resentment toward Dillon was officially gone, and hanging out with the two of them was even more fun than the old days when it was just me and Victoria. He had turned into my brother, someone that was always down to party with me and never judged me for the stupid shit I did. He was basically another version of Victoria.
ust as life was starting to look up for once, I was ripped away from my second family in Baton Rouge. Unfortunately my grades were still suffering from my first year of partying at LSU, and I was forced to transfer to Southeastern in Hammond in order to graduate. It was the worst I had ever felt about myself, and I instantly knew the good times we all had together were coming to an end. I promised myself that I would still take weekend trips back to Baton Rouge to keep Victoria and I’s friendship alive, but as I started working more I found less and less time to make the drive up there. Sure my grades improved drastically, but I left behind all of my friends, and once again, Victoria slipped away from me. While I was working my ass off to do well in school, Victoria was also focused on finishing her degree. With graduation coming closer, she was finding that most of her time was dedicated to her many art classes, trying to keep up with all of the projects she was working on. Danielle and Victoria also moved out of our beloved apartment, finding separate places to live. I knew it wasn’t just me who had to grow up; we all did, and it was very obvious. Victoria and I didn’t go out anymore, and there weren’t anymore weekly trips out to eat or any weekend parties that either of us went to. Growing up sucked, but it was inevitable as graduation hung its big ugly head over both of us. I would text Victoria every now and then just to send her a dank meme or to vent about yet another one of my stupid coworkers. She would usually send me pictures of her latest art project at school to get my overly honest opinion on. But we soon found our friendship to be just that — text messages.
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When we did find the little time we had to hangout with each other, it usually consisted of laying around her parents’ house whenever she made the trip back to Folsom. Sure we could’ve gone out, but being broke and constantly exhausted left us with no motivation to be normal twenty-something year-olds.
The extent of our fun was usually us cooking something new Victoria had found on Pinterest,
I mean
“her”
and when I say
“us” cooking
because I’m too lazy to learn how.
Either way, Victoria was always better than me at everything, so when she decided she wanted to try this
“french fry burger”
for motivational support. With
she found, I was just there
her never-ending love
of potatoes, she whipped out her personal fryer and went to work making homemade french fries, forming the buns by sticking the fries together with melted cheese.
She cooked the burgers, and I used my skills to help lay out some condiments. We put the burgers together complete with two french fry buns, and BAM there they were, looking just like the Pinterest picture (aside from the grease dripping off of ours). The burgers looked delicious, so we went to work on them, not even stopping to speak. It wasn’t until I had just a couple bites left that I slowly put down the burger. I sat there for a second, still not talking, and looked at Victoria, who also put down her unfinished burger.
Just from the look she gave me I knew she was in just as much pain as I was. My chest felt heavy, as if I had just eaten a pile of bricks, and my stomach was so bloated that I looked nine months pregnant. Between heavy breaths asked Victoria how she was feeling and not to my surprise,
she felt like she was
attack. The grease from the process of clogging
having a
heart
damn burger was in the
up our
arteries,
and I’m almost positive my blood pressure was steadily increasing with each gasp for air.
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e both tossed those last couple of bites in the trash, and after a few failed vomit attempts, it was obvious those burgers were stuck in our bodies. We sprawled across her bed, not moving for hours. When we finally felt like we could breathe again, we laughed about what idiots we were for even thinking it would be a good idea to make that newly labeled “heart attack burger.” Even though nights like that one didn’t compare to our old nights of binge drinking in Baton Rouge, they proved we could still have fun together, regardless of how sad it might seem to other people our age.
ven though our days of partying are long gone, turning into “adults” hasn’t been all that bad. Victoria and Dillon now understand what it means to be in a real relationship, and their top priority in life is making each other happy. Victoria has always been the most mature one out of the three of us, but Dillon has improved the most over time. He is now completely out of legal trouble, done with drugs, and is working hard at his job. Now, not only is he Victoria’s best friend, but he’s one of my best friends too. I’m reminded of why I love Dillon so much when we die laughing at each other for having a typical ditzy blonde moment. The three of us have had some good times, but one of my favorite memories of us is from my family’s yearly trip to Ship Island. We spent the day drinking, getting sun burnt, swimming in the hot Gulf, and trying not to die of heat stroke. Right before we were about to give up on having any sort of fun that day, Dillon ran back from the bathroom to excitedly tell Victoria he had found a nest of bird eggs in a grassy part of the beach. Before Dillon could say anything else, Victoria called me over from where I was baking in the sun and eagerly shared the news. Since this was the most interesting thing we had heard all day, we jumped up to go look for the eggs. Payden grabbed my arm to pull me back down on the towel and told me to stay there with him. I immediately shot him a mean look and went to follow Victoria as she was being rushed off by Dillon, but I was once again pulled down and forcefully stared at until I unwillingly agreed. Once they were out of ear shot, I questioned Payden aggressively, but he only laughed and told me to be patient until they got back.
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So I waited anxiously until I saw Victoria running down the beach toward us with Dillon trailing behind her, clearly out of shape. When she finally reached us,
she flung her hand in my face to show me a ring with tiny encrusted
diamonds
wrapped around her finger. My eyes went wide and my mouth immediately sprang open in shock. As if she could tell what I was about to say, she quickly shut down my objections to their engagement by assuring me that it was
just a promise ring.
The millions of thoughts racing through my head vanished and my range of emotions settled to happiness. After the initial shock and congratulations were out of the way, I asked about the bird eggs. Victoria’s beaming grin fell into a frown as she told me there were never any eggs to begin with. Apparently it was just a ploy to get Victoria alone with him to surprise her with the ring. Even after Victoria found the ring in the sand where Dillon told her the nest had been, she still asked,
“Well where
are the
eggs?”
Although Dillon could have told a less disappointing lie, his plan was successful. It may just be a promise ring to most people, but I knew the Victoria and Dillon went through to get to that
major
ups
level of happiness
and
downs
in their relationship,
spending the rest of their lives together. and it comforted me to know
they planned on
I spent a big part of my life
hating Dillon and wishing Victoria had never met him, but now I knew I wouldn’t approve of Victoria dating anyone else.
I didn’t want to spend countless awkward meetings with guys that I knew were unworthy of dating my best friend. Dillon and I had an understanding that I was always going to be in Victoria’s life, and even if he didn’t want to, he was forced to share her with me. The both of them always welcome me as a third wheel because of my inability to keep a boyfriend, and they never complain when I pop up to ruin their plans together. So even though I deeply regret feeling the hatred that I felt toward Dillon back then, he truly showed me that people can change, and I don’t think I would appreciate him as much if I didn’t have those bad memories. No one will ever be able to replace Dillon, so he is stuck with Victoria (and me) for good, whether he wants to be or not.
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ith time and distance working against us, it’s rare that Victoria and I get to see each other at all anymore. On most days we’re both consumed by our hectic schedules, but on the rare occasion that we do get to see each other, thankfully it always seems as if no time has passed at all. Even though we miss the way things used to be, Victoria has everything she could possibly want in life. She has an amazing boyfriend that everyone loves, she’s about to graduate from the greatest school on Earth, LSU, and she has me as a best friend...I’m not sure how much more she could want. She found someone to love, and she found something to love, which is art. With her graphic design degree, she’ll get to turn doing what she loves into a career, which not many people get to do. She’s got it all, while I’m still struggling to graduate with a degree that I’m unsure about, with an unappealing job barely getting me by, living with my sister and her boyfriend whose job it is to make my life a living hell, with parents that are still not proud of anything I’ve ever done, and with no boyfriend in sight. But even though our lives are on much different paths right now, I’m not jealous anymore. I spent most of my life regretting the decisions I’ve made, and I spent even more time comparing my life to Victoria’s. When something good happened to her, I felt happy
for her on the surface, but deep down I just felt angry. Even though life hasn’t gone the way I planned it to, and even though I’m far from where I want to be right now, I don’t feel resentful when something goes well for Victoria. Now when she shares exciting news with me, or when she wants to tell me her latest accomplishment, I’m happy for her. But most of all, I’m proud of her. I’m not saying I gave up my selfish ways, and I’m not saying I’m no longer petty, but over the past year I’ve come to realize that I was wasting my time comparing my life to hers. This whole time I should have felt nothing but grateful for her, even through the rough times in our friendship. I now realize how important Victoria’s friendship is to me, and how horribly different my life would have been without her. She was my first real friend in school, even though I had crippling anxiety and a horrible temper. She went through that terrible “emo” phase with me and never judged me for the disgusting amount of eyeliner I would wear. She shared all of her cool stuff she got for Christmas with me, and allowed me to have a second set of parents who loved me. She introduced me to every friend she made in high school even though I wasn’t popular. She always laughed at my jokes in bad taste and understood my sarcasm when everyone else took it the wrong way. She put up with my horrible living habits and cleaned up after the countless messes I made. She paid for my food when I was low on cash, even if it was because I went on an impulsive shopping spree. She cooked for me when I asked her too, especially late at night when I wanted her to make me a grilled cheese. She always believed in me when I doubted myself, and always pushed me to do things I didn’t want to do because I was scared. And most importantly, she was always there when I needed her. And she always will be.
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I appreciate her for
everything she was,
everything she is,
and everything she will be. I can’t physically feel jealousy toward her because everything good that happens to her in life, I’m just as happy about as she is. Every accomplishment that she achieves
I’m proud of, even when I can’t be proud of myself. in life is one that
She has taught me so much about myself in our
past 11 years of friendship.
I will never be the caring, selfless, affectionate, loving
she is the only person in my life that has never tried to change that; she just accepts me for who I am, flaws and all. person that everyone wants me to be, but
I don’t deserve a friend like her, but I’m glad that I had her along the way to teach me how to fake some of the good qualities that she genuinely has. I couldn’t be happier now that we are finally working on something together, and as usual, you will do better than me.
And I want you to.
I always want you to be better than me, because you are, and that’s ok with me now.
I love you Victoria, thank you for putting up with me all these years.
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