Beautiful Friendship

I've never been what one would call, "popular."  In fact, for most of my life I was pretty much the opposite.  I always wanted to be, though.  I watched the pretty girls in my school as if a prisoner through a pane of glass, longing to talk like they talked, walk like they walked.  They moved with ease; butterflies flitting from flower to flower, drinking in the nectar of whichever destination they happened upon.  I was more like a caterpillar.

When I was thirteen, I met Vicki.  She was one of the pretty people.  She had long sandy brown hair that fell in waves down her back.  Her skin was the color of a root beer float after the ice cream has melted down the inside of the glass and she had a body most girls my age could only hope for.  Her typical wardrobe consisted of a tight white t-shirt and holey Daisy Dukes rolled up as high as they could go on her shapely thighs.  I thought she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen...so did all the boys.  Every boy we hung out with--even the ones that I held a secret crush on--watched and admired Vicki from afar.  Being with her was like standing on the backside of flashlight; you could always see the light, but it never shone on you.

Vicki and I eventually parted ways.  We went to two different schools; by the time I would run into her again, too much time would have elapsed, turning us into two different people.  I'm now an adult, married and with my own children. One nearly thirteen herself.   I often wonder: What happened to Vicki?

I wonder if she has children and if she looks the same as she did when she was thirteen.  Thin. Brown. Bubbly. Beautiful.  If she's changed as much as I have, then I suppose she is none of these.  It would be interesting to know, however.  A part of me wishes that she is not as beautiful as I remember her; the jealous part of my memory would see a strange sense of justice in that.  But then again, I wonder if she could ever be as radiant as she is my mind...to that thirteen year old girl still imprisoned inside myself.  Probably not, I think.  Is anything??