She used to focus on sculpture. Animation, she once claimed, was “never” a consideration, but when my first short got a lot of buzzy attention online, something shifted in her behavior toward me. She began sketching and painting more furiously, dabbling in software she once said was “destroying real art.” She started critiquing my work more harshly, hanging out with me less, and in our classes, I saw her portfolio expanding, showcasing more than just her sculpting; whenever I would ask why she was deviating from her medium, she would make a comment like “I’m broadening my horizons,” and it always sounded passive-aggressive. Then she went behind my back and applied for my scholarship at my CIA program. She knew it was selective and that I needed the money; her doctor parents could afford to send her to any college in the world. Yet she got my spot, which forced Mom to take out exorbitant loans for me, loans she couldn’t afford, so that I could be here at my dream college.

Maybe it would have been fine if Leila had just been honest with me. Told me how she was feeling. Gave me some sort of closure, because sometimes friendships end. But can’t they just end peacefully, without drama and hate? She iced me out. Stopped texting, calling, being my friend. Kept her CIA application from me. Made me feel like my dreams were silly in comparison to her more “socially acceptable career path” as a “future executive.” And she didn’t even tell me she got in. I found out from Rae, who heard from someone outside our supposedly tight threesome. And when I discovered Leila had been saying hurtful things about me and my art behind my back, how I supposedly never supported her, and how I was playing up the “trendy nonbinary angle”—during a time I was struggling to define my identity—I knew we were over. I needed my best friends, and she acted like I didn’t even exist. Rae thinks her jealousy over my online popularity made her competitive nature kick into high gear. I got the notoriety she wanted, so she had something to prove. But her going after my dream and my success meant more to her than being happy for me and standing by me as I figure out who I am, inside and out. That’s what hurts the most.

And now, here we are, competing against each other. Again.

At least this time, I know it.

I catch Leila stealing glances at me from the back of the room, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of returning them. By the time the seminar starts, she’s practically seething, especially because she’s late and has to sit in the only open seat in the room—next to me. As if being around her weren’t enough, I have to suffer with her literally on top of my space. And the way she positions herself, honestly, I can’t! She pivots her body so her back faces me, and her hair, which is tied up in a messy ponytail, actually spills onto my desk. It’s a small classroom, which doesn’t feel right for an animation class, and I worry for a second that I’m in the wrong place. I’m about to ask someone, but then Linda McPherson breezes into the room, and everyone suddenly goes quiet.