Once upon a time in a land far away, there was this machine. And what did this machine do, you might ask? It made the perfect man.

What a lousy start to such a story.

My once-upon-a-perfect-man wasn't all that perfect and was still a boy. He had loads of friends who happened to be girls, was a drummer, played soccer and swam. Not to mention, he was a sophomore and I was only a freshman. He was tall, almost five ten, had a nice body from swimming, soccer, and marching band, and had dark blond hair and gray-almost-blue eyes.

Me? I'm short, almost five three; have abs other girls would die for; have dark brown hair with line green highlights, and gray eyes and even have contacts. I'm fifteen; he's seventeen. I sing, play the flute and piccolo (but march color guard), and piano; I play tennis; I dance tap, jazz, and point; run track (my specialties are hurdles); and am on the dive team.

Have you noticed something? He had and I have. What does that mean? No, he's not dead, but I talk about him like his is. He cheated on me and I just found out. Yup, just found out. We dated seven months, two weeks and four days and then, here I am, sitting in the computer lab, listening to the other girl's gossip (like I'm not even there) about their time with Jock the Jerk a.k.a. John. That's what I'm calling him now.

My once-upon-a-perfect-man was just that: a dream… a wish… a want… but not a reality; I wanted him; he wanted five girlfriends at once. Or, that's how many different people he cheated on me with. The worst of all had to be my best friend- or, should I say, ex-best friend. She was everything I'm not: she had the blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and curvy body other girls would kill over.

We were complete opposites- she listened to rap and I country. She was tall; I was short. She read and I write. She had had several boyfriends and I just had Jock the Jerk. I'm smart- she's smarter. Her teeth didn't need braces, mine did. She could try on every dress and have them all fit. I? I had to compromise beauty for sizes that fit; I was far too small for only five foot three (barely one hundred pounds). Ashley was tan and so was I, just… not as tan.

I grabbed my things from the computer lab and headed down to my locker row. I gathered my homework, put it in my backpack, and shoved on my light, spring coat. Jock the Jerk came up behind me and kissed me on the cheek. I took a deep breath and said in a barely auditable voice, "Why?" Tears started streaming down my face. He caught on quick that something was wrong.

"I take it you didn't like my test, did you? Do you understand how I feel when you flirt with all those guys? Do you understand how I feel when you talk about me behind my back?"

"Rumors, John, rumors. You and I both need to tell the differences between rumors and the facts of life. You're my only guy friend and you've got several 'girl friends.' If you have to trust my love for you, you're not the one for me!"

He started making funny sounds with his mouth and tongue. "Test? Ah, I'm sorry. I take it you've never said anything bad about me, ever?" I glared at him and shoved my sunglasses on. "And I tested your loyalty towards me! It should have been the other way around!"

I asked the question I'd been dreading to ask: "Have you cheated on me, with or without Ashley?"

"Who's Ashley?