It was my senior year at boarding school, and on the first day of school, this girl walked into the dorm—a freshman.  She was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and this is including so many other people, it’s not even funny.  She walked in, as if her beauty was no big deal, like, “yeah, I have never even thought about how pretty I am.”  What was even more amazing was the fact that every single other girl in the dorm stared at her, knowing so well that this girl was so freaking beautiful and she was so likely to steal any guy that they had their sights set on.

            Let me sketch her for you: not short, not tall.  Very skinny, without huge boobs or a big butt, but she had enough curves to clearly be a girl.  She had longish, curly, voluminous brown hair, surrounding a thin face.  Big sapphire eyes with long eyelashes, pink freckled skin, a small, delicate mouth with soft, supple lips.  Her nose—which I envied most, due to my constant nose insecurity (based on my awkward childhood, not necessarily on the here-and-now)—oh that nose.  Straight, went up at the end, sun-kissed and freckled.  This girl was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

            Okay, I know I sound creepy.  

            I saw her around school for awhile, and my prejudice against people prettier than I am is usually not so strong—I have definitely made friends with girls of substantial beauty.  This one, though—wow, if I went somewhere with her, some fireman would hose me away because I would contaminate her beauty so much.  She couldn’t be seen with anyone, for crying out loud, or she would make them look like a monster.  I didn’t want to hate her, or be envious, because along with being so beautiful, she seemed like the sweetest girl, the way she smiled, and her eyes crinkled up like some little kid.  And for fourteen, she wasn’t awkward at all, unlike the other freshmen, who sported braces and gawky crooked expressions.