She’s wearing it again, and I’ve never been so jealous in my life.

I know it’s stupid to get so upset over something that seems so incredibly trivial. If I told anyone else I know they’d laugh at me.

But then, that’s why I’m not telling anyone else. That’s why I’m sulking over here in this corner.

Everyone else is to busy with her to notice.

Why did she have to wear it tonight? This was supposed to be perfect. She just had to go ruin it for me.

I want one just like hers. I have one, obviously—everyone has one. But it’s not as pretty as hers, and I can practically feel the pigments in my skin turning steadily greener with every glare I shoot her from across the room.

She doesn’t see me. She’s too busy talking to some guy.

No, not some guy. That guy.

I’m so pathetic. I should be over there, mingling with everyone else and having a good time. Does that make some kind of spoiled brat? I can’t deal with the fact that she has something I don’t?

It’s not like she has more money, or anything. I work every weekend and some afternoons. My clothes are generally nicer than hers, and I’m the one with the current music player and the latest cell phone. I should be grateful.

But I can’t be, not while she has it and I don’t. She doesn’t need the money while she’s wearing it. I can walk in with designer clothes, with perfect hair and expensive makeup, and if she’s wearing that one thing I’m as good as invisible.

They’re laughing. Wouldn’t it be horrible if they were laughing at me? It’s a silly thought; they’re my friends. They wouldn’t.

Would they? And now I’m paranoid.

I have no reason to be. She doesn’t dislike me—and she shouldn’t if she does. I don’t say mean things to her or spread rumors behind her back. Actually, if she didn’t have it, I think we’d be better friends.

That makes me feel even worse. I’m such a bad person. I’ve let my stupid jealousy keep me from making a potential friend. Why, why can’t I just get over it?

He just put his hand on her shoulder. I think it was to keep balance, but that doesn’t infuriate me any less. I know that if I were wearing it, I’d be in her place, the center of the group, while she stood awkwardly across the room and stared.

I guess I wouldn’t want that, though. It’s not fair for anyone to feel this lonely, not even her. I just have to seethe to myself.

I feel so stupid. It’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal. The fact that she’s wearing it should not make me this jealous.

But oh, I’d give anything for her smile.