two years ago

Jax

Noel Margot Jean was as pretty as her name.

Pretty was an understatement. She was a portrait of colours and vibrancy. Everything about her sparkled, brightened any room she fluttered into. Intelligence, beauty, that special something; it was all hers. She was as close to perfect as anyone could be.

That was where her fatal flaw began. Darkness fills any crevice light cannot stream into. Noel's light was the brightest. Consequently, she fell faster from her pedestal.

When most people thought about Noel, they would most likely think of her appearance first.

This was an undisputed fact for us. That she was the most beautiful person to grace our small piece of the world. But even so, beauty is a subjective thing. No matter how pretty one person is, there is, or will always be, someone with better looks.

But what made Noel pretty wasn't simply her looks, or she would have been quickly forgotten. It was her shining charm and vibrancy. Combined, it was her most powerful weapon.

Whenever Noel entered a room, it was as if a light suddenly flickered to life. Her touch was magic, each of her words a precisely cast spell. She was mesmerizing.

I, on the other hand, was on the opposite side of the memorable spectrum. It was hard to notice me. I was forgettable, I blended in. Barely anyone remembered me or my name, which was how I liked it. And whenever I didn't blend in, I shifted the light onto other people so that I could hide in my comfortable corner of the world again.

I knew Noel, with her sweet smile and kind eyes, and long, chiffony hair. But she didn't know me.

///

I remembered the first time I saw Noel.

I moved schools to this private school in the middle of nowhere, and I heard about Noel five days before I even saw her. In the span of those five days, I made up my mind to hate Noel's perfection. Maybe I was jealous, and for good reason. Everyone said that she had it all; a curated set of perfect friends, popularity, money, and beauty.

Before I knew it, I had unconsciously created an image of a shallow party girl with shopping bags on her arms, full of gossip and sharp maliciousness. I decided in no time at all that I wouldn't like Noel. At all.

And I found myself to be completely wrong.

When Noel walked into school one morning, I was stunned, mesmerized. She was smiling at something Janet Morrisons said. Dimples were flashing in and out of her cheeks as she talked, and her dark eyes curved at the outside corners prettily. True to my prediction, she had a department store bag in hand. But she seemed so much more than what I initially perceived. Her smiles were genuine and they happened so often, it caught me off guard.

It was hard to not look at her.

She was in my first period, Maths AP. Throughout, Noel made witty remarks, both to the people around her and to our teacher. If her beauty was her gift, her charm her weapon, then Noel's sharp intelligence was her golden treasure.

No one described Noel to me as empathetic or worldly-wise, despite those being her best traits. People talked about how jewel-like her presence was. Noel could look at someone and mesmerise them with her innate beauty. But past the superficial qualities, people didn't care much about her.

I didn't mind that Noel was perfect. Because who could ever be jealous, losing to someone like her?

///

All it takes is a flash of blonde hair, and a stream of words starts pouring into my ear.

I look up from my workbook and straighten my glasses. Noel Jean, the prettiest girl in our year, stands in front of me with her arms crossed, spouting a flow of words that sounds like music.

She always wears a white top in varying styles, most likely because she knows white looks ethereal against the golden glow of her skin. She's the kind of beautiful that knows she's beautiful. More dangerously, the girl knows how to accentuate her beauty in all the right ways.

"-So in conclusion, I need your help." Noel finishes her speech, flicking her hair back. Her honey eyes look into mine imploringly.

I stare back at her in surprise, shutting my book. I doubt she even knows my name. I try to keep my voice as even as possible. "Sorry, not interested."

Perhaps she steeled herself for rejection. Noel's pearly smile widens and she becomes twice as alluring, if that's even possible. "But it's really important."

I sigh in defeat. "What do you want?"

She frowns. "Were you listening to me?" 

I shrug to avoid answering the question. She huffs in annoyance. "It doesn't matter. The point is, can you speak to Michael for me?" Noel asks, tilting her head. "I know he talks to you sometimes."

I roll my eyes. Talks? More like Michael asks me for homework and beats me up when I don't give it to him. Noel's naivete baffles me. She surrounds herself with beauty queens and bullies, and the girl doesn't even know her friends' reputations.

Noel keeps her smile fixed on her mouth. She's projecting her beauty onto me, willing me to agree. But I manage to resist on the very brink of my iron-like restraint, staring at her with an expression of incredulity. And her million dollar smile falls like bricks. Even better, it turns upside down.

I don't think anyone has ever seen Noel's smile drop. I feel accomplished to be the first one to burst her bubble of a never-ending line of eager suitors. But I intend to reject her politely.

"That's not possible, sorry." I apologise, turning back to my work. Sociology is such an immersive subject, but Noel's jewelled eyes are equally as tempting.

I glance back up at her to find the girl watching me. She crosses her arms, looking at me with curiosity. "So are you going to the game on Friday?" I shake my head stubbornly. She sighs frustratedly. "Just come. Please."

I sigh, knowing she won't give up without a satisfactory reply. "I'll think about it."

Noel's face brightens. She hands me a ticket and smiles. "I'll see you there."

She struts away, her heels clicking on the floor. Noel has her own truckful of rumors to dissect. The first rumor I heard was about her alcohol problem. I didn't believe it, because Noel seemed regimented to me. She felt titanium, sometimes, because even the rumor mill couldn't overthrow her image.

When I showed up to the football game on Friday, I tried to take interest in the stupid guys running and calling to each other on the field. It felt more like a circus act than a sport. But my eyes kept on landing on her, front and center of the cheer squad.

I searched so closely for faults in Noel that it was inevitable I would find one. It came in the form of her vanity. Everyone heard Noel, but she never heard anyone else in the flow of her own music.

///