That's What Best Friends Are For

Julie didn’t answer; she didn’t need to. The sound of the screen door slamming downstairs told her that Tess had already left. Her gaze drifted back to the Wade Mackie website, wondering what Tess saw there that she didn’t. Sure, the photos were glossy and professional, and the lighting was balanced, but there was a slick sameness to the shots, a Styrofoam sexiness that reminded her of vacant mannequins and over-processed hair. As she touched the mouse to click off the computer the memory card came back to life, bringing up the last image the camera had taken: she and Tess smiling into the lens.

Julie paused, studying the photo. As Tess had predicted, it was a keeper, the only one of the bunch. In fact, it was almost identical to her current screensaver, a photo her mother had taken of the two of them in third grade. One of a succession of many, actually. Though the setting and their ages varied, the pose was nearly always the same: Tess’s arm thrown over Julie’s shoulder, leaning together so their temples touched, beaming into the camera. The sort of cheesy best friends picture they both laughed at but Julie secretly cherished.

She clicked through the collection of photographs quickly, like viewing an age-progression simulation. Or a tortoise and hare competition. In grade school Julie, with her thick auburn hair and hazel eyes, had always been considered ‘the pretty one.’ Tess, the product of a Japanese mother and Swedish father, had looks that their classmates had termed ‘interesting.’ Wide, ice gray eyes and straight black hair, kittenish features that were too large for her face, gawky limbs that seemed to go on forever.

But everything changed after middle school. As Tess grew up she developed
the kind of outrageous natural beauty generally only allotted to supermodels, Disney princesses, and Cameron Diaz. In contrast Julie’s looks —her face, her body, her hair, everything— could be summed up in one detestable four-letter word: Cute.

Irritated, Julie shut off the computer screen. In truth, she rarely noticed Tess’s looks anymore and usually remained mildly amused by other people’s reactions to them. But now that Tess was so intensely focused on breaking into modeling ―all right, obsessed with― it seemed like that was all they talked about. Apparently it wasn’t enough that she was drop dead gorgeous. Now she wouldn’t be happy unless she was paid for it.

The newspaper Tess had brought sat beside the computer, neatly folded to the want ad section. A waitressing job. Julie briefly considered refusing to even apply, but immediately brushed the disloyal thought away. What if the situation were reversed? What if she’d been given Tess’s looks and that was the only thing in the world she really wanted? Tess would help her, wouldn’t she? Of course she would.

That’s what best friends were for.