she had broken fingernails by Megan Pitt (16, New Jersey)

[Content warning: eating disorder]

In the 6th grade he told me he loved me. 

To be a pre-teen is to experience death while you are alive. The chaos of middle school hallways and the frantic commotion of trying to open a locker, could be enough for a brain to combust. Teenage girls get their periods and teenage boys experience voice cracks. Change is abundant and it started with him. ​

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I used to wear my hair down everyday. I would tuck a few locks behind my right ear when I felt anxious, when my mind felt overstimulated by cafeteria rumors and math quizzes. I used to sit next to a girl with broken fingernails. Bite marks creased her skin and I would glance at them over my algebra. Shards of nail polish clung on for dear life to her remaining cuticles. 

Life became routine. Staring at cuticles, running laps of the field, throwing away my sandwich at lunch instead of eating it. 

New Years rolled around and my only plans were a neighborhood party that I would have rather missed. I had gotten all dolled up though, wearing a brand new sweater and lipstick that I had stolen from the bottom drawer of my mothers vanity. 

Possibility and opportunity are the two essentials to living. With opportunity, there is possibility. For toddlers, this theory relates to walking. The living room is clean of toys because mom just cleaned. Dad is home from work and so both parents are nearby. Just like that, the toddler's right foot moves forward with the left one just behind. For a pre-teen, this relates to dating. When you’re young, any chance at love is a chance you must take.

Do you love her? 

Maybe I will if I keep dating her. 

I had one friend. One. Her personality could only be described as overbearing and elaborate. She was an enigma, but I thought I understood. She took control of my life, like she was the pilot and I was just the plane. It was as if I should be thanking her for her service, for taking my life into her own hands. 

She had a vision. Off to the 6th grade dance we would go, hand in hand with boys that had been labeled as cool by girls who collectively wore flannels on Fridays. Like a cult. I hadn’t found someone to love me yet. Time was running out and the orthodontist had not yet closed the gigantic gap between my two front teeth. I had put on some weight, but I was aware. My days consisted of multiple workouts and pretending to eat food when it really ended up in a dumpster at the back of Whole Foods. 

So when he texted, it was as if Mercury was in retrograde. When Mercury is in retrograde, it appears as if the planet is moving backwards. The planet is not following normal protocol, it is so gracefully out of line. 

I told him I would think about it. I had always been drawn to the idea of playing hard to get, I liked the dark and mysterious power the idea held. I awaited his rebuttal.

When my sister doesn’t know what to say, she remains silent. She does not find solace in words, rather she finds it in purposeful silence. When he didn’t know what to say, he chose the truth. 

I told you I loved you because I’m in love with her. 

Jealousy--the creator of demons and ruler of broken hearts. 

In many romantic comedies, there are three characters. The man who holds the power, the woman he adores, and the woman he uses as a rebound. Viewers, lovesick teenagers halfway through their menstrual cycle, often find themselves to be the rebound girl in their own lives. 

I was his rebound girl. 

The next day, I went to class with broken fingernails.

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