Of course, Connie changed all that. When I saw my old acquaintances in the hall, girls I sat with for three whole years, I was still polite enough to say hello. I knew my absence at their lunch table certainly wasn’t missed but they would smile in my direction nonetheless. I didn’t give much thought to what they must have thought of me; meek, unassuming Alex, flying with the eagles. I figured that since they never entered my mind, I wasn’t entering theirs either.

As it turns out, I was wrong. I underestimated just how enviable of a position I was in, as the best friend of the most popular girl in Halford. Even the likes of Niamh and Lauren, as much wallflowers and nobodies as I once was, craved such attention, such notice.

It was a mild day, by all accounts, and we were sitting on the pier wall, Connie, Molly, Orla, and I. I saw Niamh and Lauren approaching us from a distance. They waved at us in comical unison and I tried my hardest not to cringe at how Molly snorted or how Connie glanced at me with raised eyebrows. These girls were far from the people I associated myself with now, in their striped pullovers and mismatched shoes. Niamh, with her thin-framed glasses and uneven hair. Lauren, with her gapped teeth and odd socks. Never mind that it had only been a handful of months since I looked like them and dressed like them. I felt above them now, and there was no avoiding the guilt that knotted in my stomach at that realization.

“Alex!” Lauren called out, offering me a smile. I forced an uncomfortable smile in response. “Long time no see.”

“You—uh—you too,” I said rather blandly, knowing full well that neither of us had cared enough to preserve what had been nothing more than a friendship of convenience. “How are you?”

“Great!” I tried to ignore the titters emerging from Orla and Molly behind me. “We’ve missed you, Alex. You look really good.”

“Um—thanks.”

“Yeah,” Niamh chirped, her words lisped. “We should hang out sometime.”

I was suddenly more aware of Connie’s eyes boring into the side of my skull. I rubbed at the back of my neck, my cheeks reddening. “Er—yeah. Cool.”

“It’s my birthday next week, and I was thinking—why don’t you come? Me and Niamh and some of our other friends were gonna go into town and go to the cinema—”

“Sorry,” Connie cut in, her voice sharp. “Alex is actually busy next weekend.”

I shot her a quick glance. I wasn’t aware we had plans coming up, but nodded along nonetheless. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Lauren.”

“That’s okay! We can hang out another time! And maybe—you know—your friends could come too!”

Molly let out an audible snort, and I watched as Connie’s lips curled up. The glint in her eyes made my stomach lurch in what I could only describe as second-hand embarrassment; an odd feeling of pity for Lauren and her astute naivety in daring to say something so hopelessly ignorant. I was used to it by then—watching girls attempt to wiggle their way into Connie’s good books, unaware of the fact that they would be the laughing-stock of the group for weeks on end. I was used to watching Connie ignore them or Molly shoot them down with a cruel retort and send them on their way with their tail between their legs, confidence bruised and self-image shattered. While Connie was never openly mean to their faces, she was still a teenage girl. It was not an enviable position to be one of those girls who tried to suck up to Connie. Naivety was not an attractive color.