I never really fit in with the other kids at school who wore expensive clothing with fancy labels and went on trips every summer to tropical and foreign places. They always managed to look flawless with their pretty hair and perfect skin, nary a zit in sight. Forever gossiping about the girl who wasn't wearing her hair the "correct" way or wearing the "right" clothing. The kind of girls who thought they were better than everyone else because of their money or good looks, who never let you forget who's parents drove the nicer cars that cost as much as my house. These kids are labeled as the “cool crowd” and I would always wonder what it would be like to be one of them. To always have money to spare and be at parties every night or never having to wear the same clothes twice. I would always wonder such things, but when a kid from the “cool crowd” would walk by snickering with a friend about my non-fashionable clothing and not so shiny hair, all those fantasies would vanish. It wasn’t hard to look at their perfect hair and skin and their multitude of friends and want to be approved by them, be swept under their wing, so you wouldn’t have to sit at lunch by yourself always wondering, what if? This seemed like what I would spend the rest of my school days doing until someone came along and showed me the path down friendship lane where you could be yourself and not have to worry about being shunned upon. This spectacular, unscathed route to always being accepted seemed like a road I would never find until someone gave me the map to get there. No longer would I spend my lunch time sitting alone, keeping my eyes on my sandwich so no one would see the loneliness vacating the gateway to my soul. No longer would I spend my Saturday nights wishing I had something more to do or somewhere else to be other than sitting in my room watching ’ I love Lucy’ reruns until my eyes closed for the night. I would finally have someone else to shop with and someone else’s opinion on my outfit besides my moms who only says what I want to hear. This friend was my savior, my beacon of hope who shed light into my lonely eyes and re-opened the gateways to my soul. A friend who would spend every lunch period with me, who saved me from ever having to think another ’what if’ again and who’s presence stopped my eye’s from wandering and lingering on the “popular” kids tables. And with this friend we would laugh about how stupid it was to be apart of the cool crowd.*