winona mooney, district seven | finished

I've already made my peace with the fact that most people can't stand me.

After all, I'm not the easiest girl to love. I prefer books to people, quartzes and crystals to pets, studying to playing sports. Maybe I'm stand-offish, or maybe I just know my own worth. I have no interest in pretending to be someone I'm not in order to be popular or wanted. As early as second grade, when Martha Clemons stuck gum in my curly hair, I've been aware of the fact that I'm an outsider.

But I like being on the outside, and the wonder that comes with it — sure, I had to go the rest of the year rocking a bowl cut, but if Martha had never pulled that prank, I wouldn't have been able to watch Brandy LaSalle punch her in the face at recess the next day. That was the first day she spoke to me, wiping nose blood off her knuckles and grinning warmly at me. "Do you need a friend?"

"I wouldn't say no to one."

See, the trick to not caring about being disliked is to find that one person who really just doesn't give a shit about what others think. Brandy is my person. The fact that my oldest, closest, only friend just so happens to be one of the coolest kids in school is just sweet irony. She's never asked me to be anyone other than Winona Mooney, bookworm & mathematics-enthusiast. And I've never expected her to be anyone other than perfect, kind, social butterfly Brandy LaSalle.

I think part of the reason I've grown up to be so level-headed is that I lucked out when our paths crossed when they did. For years now, all through our schooling, we have been thick as thieves. She jogs by my side in gym class, even though I and everyone else knows she could lap the lot of us, and I let her copy my homework when her schedule is too jam-packed with parties and games to finish her assignments on time. I don't want to say it's because of me, of course it's not, but I'm extremely proud of the fact that Brandy is in the top ten list of students alongside me. Everyone is always shocked when they learn that.

We just laugh.

Mom says Brandy is practically her second child, and Brandy's parents always scold me for knocking instead of just inviting myself in when I come over to visit. "You are always welcome here," they insist to me, just like they have since I was little. Every other weekend, we take turns crashing at one another's houses, waking up early before the school bus arrives to do our morning run. Brandy swears that exercise builds character, just like when I tell her that practicing equations and fractions makes for a healthy brain. She always groans.

Together, I don't think there's anything we aren't capable of. She is the sun to my moon, the bleeding heart to my shy one, wildfire meets meadow. I have no insecurities about what the future holds for us, only a year and half until our graduation date, when we must venture out into adulthood. No matter where we go, what path we choose, I know that some essence of Brandy will always be here with me. Friendships like this don't go anywhere. Even at the end of the world, there will be traces of our love. Until the end of time, I will choose her.

The popular kids can make fun of me all they want. Tease me for my fashion, my kooky interests, think me a loser.

I know exactly what I've already won.