A Colorless Rose

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Lily Elite

This flower looks strikingly similar to the Tiger Lily flower with its orange petals fanned out with long flowery things sticking out the center. This subset, those within the Lily Elite family of flowers are said to be real lilies, unlike other lilies that are out there in the world. Truthfully, it’s much more important to know that there are so-called fake lilies, ones that are related to flowers other than the lily; than it is to know about flowers that are real ones. If there weren’t impostors, then why bother being?

It is such a shame to think that nature is so similar to people in that respect. I can see it now, the true lilies picking on the fake ones. They will look at the ones who are almost there and point, poke, and prod about every microscopic flaw in those who try to be but are not. The popular Lily Elite, with their slender stalks and beautiful petals will become the male peacocks to the boring Lily of the Niles, none of whom bear any slight resemblance to the Lily Elite. Many of the other lilies at least look the same but are a boring, single color. The Lily Elite is exactly what it sounds like; the queen bee of the pack.

Lily Elite was most likely head cheerleader and captain of said team. She probably did not have too many friends, on account of her only wanting to be with the best of the best out there. I could not blame her very much, though I wanted to. I understood why it was important to want certain friends.

It may have been the entire reason I despised cheerleaders and similar girls with the passion of a thousand burning suns. Sure, they were picky and backstabbers, but at least there was always a sense of belonging between them all. Many of them were not the brightest. Classes that were not meant for only the brightest and best had shown me the truth of this. They were not the worst, I will admit. They did not care about most of their classes and so they never bothered to try. That was what bothered me the most.

If they had tried even a little bit, perhaps they could have shown some ambition and brain. I wanted to see these girls as being something more than wearing short skirts. A part of me always wanted to believe the most of them. Although this was rarely true, I always gave them the benefit of the doubt.

There was this girl in my class earlier this year, last semester actually. Her name is Izzy Kelley and she was at the school on a sports scholarship. It was nothing bad. I was actually impressed. Any scholarship is respectable and I was almost jealous of her for having a talent. I had tried so very hard to win scholarships; I had applied to every one that was out there, and still, I had received nothing. Yet, this girl, whose talent was great, but whose intellect was lacking, got one I could never obtain in my life.

She was the type of girl who wore fancy clothing from stores in countries far away. Her clothes were always in the most expensive fabrics, the exact kind that could only be dry cleaned, for if a mere washing machine did its job of washing the clothes, then all of her clothes would be detrimentally ruined.

When I got the wonderful delight of talking to her one day, I discovered that she was simply the best friend of a girl who had wronged me immensely back in high school. Yet, I had promised myself that I was over everything that had happened back then. But while I was there, in high school, around the cliques and the desires of all to fit in, I did not let anything go. All the grudges I had formed in earlier years I held tightly onto in those years of high school. Try as hard as I could, I could not forgive.

If there was one person I could absolutely not forgive, it was Ricky. Especially when I saw him with that girl at the grocery store. Sure, he was allowed to be friends with anyone. But I disagreed.

Only two days had gone by since the incident. I still did not know who this girl was or what she and I could become to each other. We would not be able to become friends. We were not similar to each other at all. The only commonality we may have had was that we knew Ricky. But she liked him.

I could tell she liked him. Her head titled back with great force as a boisterous giggle escaped from her mouth as she reacted to his jokes. His jokes were not that funny. She was just trying to get him to like her more. She wanted him and would stop at nothing to get him to fall in love with her.

While I was not completely sure of exactly what she was doing, I knew for sure that she was not someone I wanted to get on the bad side of. She had high heels and short skirts. She was the type of girl every girl wanted to be and the type of girl every guy wanted to be with. If you could get her to like you, then you were in. And I’m sure that they all wanted to be in. People would want to be popular and would do absolutely anything that would secure them a spot at the cool kids’ table. It was coveted by all.

Of course, Ricky was the cool, bad boy. He looked as though he was emulating John Travolta and it was sickening to see him and Barbie together at last. I wondered if Ken was off to the side, fuming with those overly bleached teeth of his about how the terrible boy had stolen his woman away from him.

I wanted to meet this girl. I wonder if she had some wonderfully interesting backstory about what she wanted to be when she was younger and about how everything changed when some people told her she had to be just a little bit different to fit in. I assumed that she was not someone who wanted to be a doctor or lawyer and then decided out of the blue to become anything but. She probably desired to be anything but, except her parents pushed for her to be something along those lines. So here she is now, not wanting to become what she is about to become, but she has absolutely no way out of it.

Thinking about it that way made me feel terrible for her. I hoped that she at least had some say about what she could do with her life. Sure, her bleached hair would not have left very many options for her of a respectable manner, but then again, I wouldn’t put it past her. She seemed to get what she wanted.

I thought back to the project they were working on together, she and Ricky. It may have been a petty assignment, but I would do anything to see them execute out their plan. Although it could end horribly, there is a greater chance that it could end up perfectly. Maybe she’s not that bad. Who knows, maybe she and I will end up becoming friends. Then we can fly pigs on a moon made out of cheese together as our first act that declares our eternal friendship which is to last a lifetime.

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