When did you realize that your best friend never liked you?

High School Ghosts and the Fateful Job Offer

My best friend secretly recorded a meeting with my boyfriend and sent me videos to frame him for cheating. When I begged her to stop, she laughed and whispered, “You’re just jealous. He’ll like me better.” I didn’t say a word. That was two years ago. Yesterday, her mom messaged me begging for help.

I was always the dumb, ugly, fat friend, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. In high school, my best friend not only got all the guys she wanted, but all the girls, too. She was just that pretty. Blonde hair that didn’t move, smelled like Miss Dior, had a nice butt.

So, when me and Jasmine would go to the library together, and guys would only talk to me to try and get to her, I was happy for her. And when her Snapchat was filled with unopened snaps from hot guys, while mine just had Team Snapchat and my mom, I was happy for her.

Not because she didn’t rub it in my face. She did. And not because she didn’t see herself as better than me. She absolutely did. But because if I had to pick one of us to be the ugly friend, I would choose me every time.

Because even though Jasmine could be a bit of a pickme, deep down, I knew she had a soft heart. So, she needed the world to be kinder to her more than I did. There was just one thing that made me sad.

I knew that she would overly rely on her looks to get her through life. This theory was already proven right because I graduated with a 4.2 GPA when high school ended.

Meanwhile, the only reason Jasmine didn’t flunk out is because the creepy guidance counselor took a liking to her. He convinced all the teachers to grade her tests more kindly.

I was actually surprised when she spent all summer working. With the way the world treated her, making her own money was definitely an optional thing.

But when I visited her at her job, I realized her version of working was much, much different from mine. She got hired at the trendy boutique downtown. The manager took one look at her and said she’d be perfect for their brand image.

Meanwhile, I spent my summer doing data entry at my dad’s friend’s accounting firm. This was mind-numbing work that no one would ever call me perfect for.

The more we talked, the more it became obvious to me that we started to see the world very, very differently. It got to the point where I even had to distance myself from her.

I started getting all of my updates about her life from her Instagram instead of our usual FaceTimes or texts. In just six months, she had gone from 3,000 followers to 200,000. Her comment sections were filled with thirsty amen.

She was getting free clothes from expensive brands, invited to brand events, and flown to Coachella.

But I knew that most of her new friends were probably using her to make themselves look better. So, I always made sure to leave wholesome comments under her posts.

I sent her gift packages of stuff I knew she loved on her birthday. I always wanted her to know that someone out there, me, loved her for who she was, not just for her clout.

Honestly, I thought I’d never see her again until one day when I was 28. I was a well-established lawyer, had my own place, and a boyfriend that loved every inch of me unconditionally.

I guess all the milestones reminded me of when I had graduated from high school. Because one day, I found myself reaching out to Jasmine again.

I mainly just wanted to see if she had changed and if we could be friends. Even though I had met some amazing new people, nothing beats someone from your past.

We agreed to meet at the usual ice cream place we had always spent our pocket money on during high school. When I saw her, it took everything in me to hide the shock I felt.

Her face was pumped with Botox and lip filler, not to mention a pound of makeup. After we got through the awkwardly high-pitched, “How are you?” I cut to the chase. Well, kind of.

I casually asked if she was working right now. “Um, well, you see, I was, but…” I just smiled because I had an ace up my sleeve, and that ace was a job offer.

I told her I was looking for a secretary. I was willing to pay $65,000 a year with benefits.

“What do I look like to you? An effing charity case?”

I stared at her blankly. She threw her plastic filled head back and cackled like it was the funniest thing known to mankind. It had been almost 10 years. There’s no way she was still like this.

I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt and continued. “Yeah, so you would have to start ASAP, but um…” she interrupted.

“Don’t you know I’m an influencer?”

She then took out her iPhone and showed me her page. She was gaining a new follower once every four months. All her DMs were from three years ago.

That’s when I finally realized Jasmine wasn’t some misunderstood pretty girl. She was the washed-up, textbook definition of “I peaked in high school”.

I was about to walk away, but she stopped me. “Hey, don’t be sad. With an A that flat, I would be a lawyer, too.”

I tried to make a beeline to my car, but she literally ran in front of me and continued. “Hey, so when do I get to meet your boyfriend? Or are you scared he’s going to like me better?”

“Jasmine,” I interrupted. “You built your whole identity on being the hot girl. Now you’re just expired goods that nobody wants. Now make like the sugar daddies that ghosted you and leave me alone.”

Finally, she froze in her tracks and left me alone. I didn’t realize it yet, but my comments had stung Jasmine. She wanted to use them to ruin everything I had ever worked for.

Two weeks passed, and I thought that was the end of it. I went back to my normal routine. Work was busy with a big merger case. My boyfriend, Nathan, and I were planning a weekend trip. Life was good.