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I had agreed to do this purely for friendship’s sake. But why did it seem like, after everything, friendship was the first thing I lost?

So I had gotten in and Jill hadn’t, and I couldn’t think of anything more unfair. Jill was perfect for the Dance Club. She was the barkada’s dance virtuoso, always in on the latest moves and grooves. She was captain of the pep squad, quite apart from the cheer squad but still, closer to dancing than any of us had ever been. She was this bubbly, cheery person, somewhat of a school figure, known for being fun as much as for being a great leader. She was cut in the mold of your regular Dance Club member. I was an alien altogether.

I’m not the “Look at Me!” type of girl that most of them are. I’m usually happy just blending in. The last time I took center stage, at a declamatory contest, I forgot half my speech. The last time I was convinced to run for the student council (eons ago, in fourth grade, where I’m sure I didn’t even know what P.R.O. stood for), I got trampled on by my seventh-grade competitor. (Thinking back, I’m positive it was all just a grand conspiracy to pit a virtually nobody against that Goliath.) After which, I swore I’d never put myself out there only to be humiliated again. I made an exception for the Dance Club only for Jill. I thought, even if I was eaten for breakfast by the senior judges, at least I could say that Jill and I shared this one thing together. But did I leave her behind?

Was I really so noble in wanting to try out? Did I really put up with those long hours of learning “All That Jazz” just so she and I could bong? Did I never dream about performing for the first time and getting looks of admiration from everyone? Did I not hope that after one particularly good performance, AJ would come up to me, try to get words out, but end up speechless and blushing? Was it really all for Jill and never just for me?

Ah, the guilt. After Carlo told me the news, I rushed to where they posted the announcement just as Jill reached the top of the stairs leading to it. I couldn’t look at her as we read that this junior and I had gotten in. I heard her voice though, and it was enough.

“Congratulations,” she said flatly.

And silly me, I just stood there, speechless, not knowing what to say, not saying anything. Ten seconds later, I was saved by the bell.

Things were different between Jill and me a couple of days after taht, but I couldn’t blame her, I really couldn’t. I felt so bad because I felt like I stole her dream from her — intentionally or by accident, I’m still not quite sure. This was her baby, this was all she ever talked about in seventh grade. I was just in it for the ride, or so I’d like to think. But then the opportunity fell on my lap, and though I worked a full week to get it, it’s not something I’m happy about now. I felt like I must’ve stepped on her toes to get to where I am. I was miserable.

One rainy afternoon, which matched my mood, Marsha tried to get in my head. “Geez. For a newly discovered Dance Girl, you sure aren’t a happy camper,” she commented as she flopped down on the bed. “Why can’t you be like that other girl? I heard she threw a party!”

I sighed, “What use would I have for a party if Jill won’t come?”

“See, Katie, if you and Jill don’t get past this, then you’ll always be stuck where you are, pulling the other down. If you’re going to be guilty about success, then I suggest you pave the way for failure because that’s obviously all you care to have around her,” she said as she filed her nails.

I thought it over.

PE class this afternoon and we were asked to run laps around the quadrangle. After two laps, Anne, Nic and I were at the top of the heap while Jill trailed behind. I started to jog in place, determined to chat her up.

“What’s up, Katie?” Jill said quietly, as she came up to me.

“Nothing. I was just waiting for you,” I said, as we were side by side.

She smiled after a while, “You didn’t have to. I would’ve caught up.”

And then there was nothing left to say.