I look back to Aubrey’s face. She has a perfect tan and a sprinkle of freckles on her nose that look like cinnamon.
“I asked if you were alright. You seem kind of… off.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Oh, okay!” She looks appeased. God, what I would give to be that easy to please.
“Well, I’m going to go talk to Phoebe. She just got here. See you!” Aubrey says suddenly. “Bye!” I say lamely, watching her perfect figure walk across the fake, wooden flooring to hug a beautiful girl with dark brown, naturally curly hair down to her waist. Ugh. I need to get out before my insecurities explode out of me. I subconsciously grab my hair and tug it, willing it to be long and beautiful like the other girls. Or at least naturally straight. Or naturally curly. Mine is a mixture of both, curly on the bottom and straight/wavy on the top. This combination is not really the most glamorous of looks, and it often makes me look like I have been in a place with 100% humidity most of the time. It also is a dirty blonde color, not a cute, golden blonde like Aubrey or a rich, gorgeous brown like Phoebe. Even the name of my hair color sounds gross. Dirty blonde.