To say that you were heartbroken was an understatement. Ever since *she* came to the class, every day had been a blur. A somber, jealous, blur. She had taken your spot next to him, she had managed to grab his attention, making him toss you aside like a banana peel. It all happened so quickly. You didn’t even have time to react and before you knew it, you were just another extra in his class again, already forgotten. *Heather*, the girl who managed to capture everyone’s attention the second she step foot into the class. Even his. You wanted to hate her, you *should* hate her, but how could you? She was just as perfect as everyone described her to be. She was beautiful, kind, a true sight for sore eyes. How could you hate her? She’s such an angel. But then again, you kinda wished she were dead. You watched them from your lunch table, your friends unaware of the internal battle going on inside your head. You watched them eat together, laugh together. You watched him get flustered at her remarks then playfully shove her away. Something he once did to you. You watched her as she cling to him, wearing *his* sweater. The same sweater he gave you many cold nights ago. The same one he helped you put on, claiming that it “looked better on you than it did him”. The same one you slept so peacefully with, the smell of him lingering on you the next morning. It was *hers* now, it was keeping *her* warm now, not you. Not anymore, not ever again. The thought alone making you grow colder. You should’ve known he would do this. I mean, why would he ever like you anyway? Why would he ever kiss you? You’re not even half as pretty as her, you’re so much different from her. Oh how you wished you were Heather.