Perfect

I've got nothing. I know it seems like that's untrue, because, hell, I've got two best friends, and a caring family, and a good school. But, god, I've got nothing. Because I'm not him. Look at him. He's bloody perfect. His skin is perfect. His grades are perfect. His hair is perfect. And it's not bloody fair.

He knows I'm jealous. He can read it in my face. Knew from the second he met me, and he's used it to mangle my heart ever since. He knows I watch him during those games, not my best friend, not the balls, him. And he flaunts it. I've seen him in everything. I've seen him upset, I've seen him happy, I've seen him scared. But I've never seen him cry.

Why is he so damned perfect?

And, god, he's rich. He's got something new on everyday, even if there's no way he could have gone and bought it. He's got all these stupid little accent pieces to make him look bleedin perfect, those little silver dragons or the green snake buckles. I've seen them all. I notice them. Why can't I have stuff like that?

I know it isn't my family's fault. My father loves his job. We aren't going to force him to get a higher paying job if he's going to hate it. But bloody hell, dad, can we buy some new clothes, at least?

I won't ever forget those damned dress robes. They were the ugliest things I had ever lied my eyes on. And then he flounced in, all perfect with great looking robes and his hair all done right and looking so... right. And here I am in my torn frilly ugly things looking like a 1000-year-old dead guy. I had a date, but she didn't like me. She disappeared after the third or so song. He had a girl that wouldn't let go of him, and he looked like it was nothing. The bloody bastard.

He's got everyone at his feet. I'd bet he could buy off anyone he wanted. Nobody would ask twice if he handed them a huge bag of galleons. Like the cool evil guys in those muggle movies. The world at his feet.

He's so damned smart. He can come up with a comeback in about point two seconds and that would be normal. What's that? Oh, yes, you think my hair is just a bit too blonde? Well, you just take a look in the mirror and ask yourself, is brown hair really sexy? It sounds stupid when I say it, but if he were to say it, you'd walk away with your head down thinking, god, how could I have been so bloody blind? I think I'll go kill myself. And he would've planned it like that.

His face is amazing. He's got these really sharp features that make him look like some hot celebrity and these gray piercing eyes that you know you can't hide anything from. He's got a perfectly shaped nose. A smirk that you'd bet he smirk the pants off any girl he wanted with. Hell, he'd probably be able to smirk any bloke's pants off if he really wanted to swing that way.

Who the hell wants their pants stupid grin-ed off, anyway? I can tell that no body in the entire school would ever pick me over him. I'm so bloody dense. And my hair is a bloody red mess. I've got enough freckles on my nose alone to paint the school. My robes stop at my shins. My best friends are a half-blood and a muggle born. No wonder not one person will give me a second glance. No wonder I haven't got any other friends then them. They all just think I'm a stupid little bugger who doesn't deserve any credit at all.

Why does get to be so perfect while I'm so bloody ugly?