She is standing with her back to me. Honey coloured skin shimmering golden in the sun, long flaxen hair flowing flirtatiously in the breeze, her laugh making the air sing and the eyes upon her smile. I am seriously considering ‘accidentally on purpose’ squirting sun cream into her mascara laced eyes. 

 We have been friends almost our entire lives so far, and every year since her mother died she has come on holiday with us. She’s more of a sister than a friend. Or what I’d imagine a sister would be, considering I’m an only child. I love her. I hate her. I wish she’d go home.

 ‘Are you ready?’ Sam appears in the patio door, pulling the skinny straps of her tank top back up over her slender shoulders, her pert perfectly formed breasts looking at me, taunting me as they always do. I tear my eyes away.

 ‘Sure.’ I reply, following her in from the balcony where moments ago I was happily and avidly engrossed in a world and story so far away from my own it made my head spin. I slip my feet into flip flops, and pull my favourite green cashmere cardigan over my arms, aware I look ratty next to the girl who could make a potato sack look glamorous.

 ‘Who was that at the door?’ I ask her, picking my way carefully through the entrails of her suitcase discarded haphazardly across the apartment floor. I feign ignorance as I know it was the guy chatting her up on the beach today. His silky smooth voice had floated in from the hall and wafted decently around the balcony like an expensive aftershave. I momentarily wonder if he had even noticed me, before reminding myself, that in the sun especially, I am human blind spot. I believe ‘luminous’ is the word used most often, and not in the way it would be used to describe Sam.

 Sam is one of these girls who looks and behaves as though she has stepped right out of Vogue magazine. She has lived in the same small Scottish village as me her entire life, but somehow exudes this worldly wisdom and confidence that most people twice her age don’t have. She’s a pixie, with beautiful big eyes, a button nose, slender waist and the curves of Marilyn Monroe. People stare at her wherever we go. I stare at her. She’s just that enthralling. I have a lot of male friends. Most of those male friends are friends with me, as a means of being friends with her. I have trained myself not to fall in lust with any of these guys as I know any hope of them falling for me will end the minute they lay eyes on her. I am known as the girl with that beautiful friend Sam. But I guess at least I am known.

 When we were twelve years old her mother died after a short battle with cancer. I remember little about it except that I had never felt so bad for anyone in my life. Thinking back, I cringe at how terribly I behaved. I had no idea how to help her, so I hid. I didn’t even go to the funeral I was so scared, but I cried the whole time. She’s never said a word to me about it. As a result, over the years I’ve kind of taken her under my wing. She’s only a year younger but I’ve always felt a little like her big sister. Always wanting to protect her. Make her smile. Make her happy. Make sure she is okay. She is friends with all of my friends, the girls as well as the guys, and most people love her.

Most people love her. I say this because as the years ticked slowly by, and I went through my own version of hell, I picked up a few friends who were actually worth having, who didn’t take her to her the way I had become accustomed to people doing. My own mother, who sees her as family, even began to frown more often when she was around. I began to feel drained in her presence and entirely lost. There is no one on the planet who can make me feel worse about myself than Sam does. The worst part about it is, she doesn’t even mean it. It’s so easy for her to be mean, it’s unconscious. She is the master of making me feel squashable.

 ‘Mark.’ she responds, positively hopping with excitement. ‘I said we’d meet them on the beach for drinks.’ Sam starts spritzing romance into the air. I cough at it hits my throat and makes my eyes water. ‘You don’t have to come, I can go by myself.’

 I shake my head. ‘No, I’m coming! What if they turn out to be psychotic?’

 Sam rolls her eyes while bending to pull a dainty shoe on her slender foot.

 I ignore her. ‘I just need to call Mum and let her know we’re still alive. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten okay?’ 

 She waves a manicured hand at me in agreement and I step out into the cool marbled hall, tucking the room key into my pocket and shutting the door behind me with a gentle click. 

 I jog down the stairs, my flip flops slapping against the tiles and smile at fellow holiday makers as I go. I’ve been out of her company for less than a minute and already I feel more relaxed; more visible. I should probably say at this point that although I have fairly low self esteem (normal for a twenty year old I imagine) I know that I am not ugly. I am plain perhaps, but not ugly. But then I’m not entirely sure what ugly is? Ugly. Isn’t that the most vile word you’ve ever heard?

At five foot six inches I’m neither short nor tall, I have long dark hair and am typically fair. My eyes are like dimmer switches; they’re the brightest deepest blue, then as grey as a rainy day. I’m not fat, nor skinny, not quite a tomboy, but not a girly girl and I really have no sense of who I am, except for when I am completely alone. But then I hate to be alone so it’s a catch twenty two. 

 I am coming out of a phone booth in the lobby when I hear a familiar voice.

 ‘Pen! Penny hey!’

 I wave and grin at Adan; a friend from University who had invited me out to stay in his parent’s hotel for a discounted price. Why I had invited Sam, I still don’t know. Force of habit I suppose.

 ‘Hola!’ I reply, my eyes widening in amazement as I take in what he is wearing. I should explain that Adan is gay, and that the placement year he spent in the UK wreaked havoc with his wardrobe. Where Sam is beautiful in her simplicity, Adan is beautiful in his eccentricity. He is also almost thirty, and I adore him.
 ‘What are we doing this evening mi encantador?’

 ‘We’re going to the beach for drinks with some guy Sam met last night.’

 Adan’s face fell a little. ‘But I wanted to finish my portrait of her.’

 I resist the temptation to sigh. ‘Well you can do it another time can’t you?’

 ‘I suppose.’

 ‘Do you want to come out with us?’ I ask, pleading him with my eyes which I hope are a startling blue.

 He shrugs. ‘Si, okay. Oh here she comes, the princess.’ Adan leans into a deep bow as Sam descends the stairs. I remind myself that I love him.

 Sam giggles and shimmies over to us. ‘Shall we go? Oh Pen I think you’ve got dirt on your face.’

 I wipe where she is staring, her button nose looking slightly piggy as she turns it up in disgust, and begin to rub when Adan says, ‘I think that’s just a freckle.’

 This time, I do sigh. Deeply. I walk out the front door into the balmy evening, calming myself with the thought of live music and cocktails, begrudgingly allowing them to follow me.

*

 Sometimes I really envy Sam. How wonderful it must be to not feel self conscious or awkward. To really believe that you are beautiful and worth the world. I know that she thinks this, she has told me so. People often say that she is perhaps compensating for losing her mother. Telling herself these things for she has no one else to tell her them. They say that it is all false. Bravado. Underneath it all she is as vulnerable as can be. I understand where they are coming from and for a long time I thought this too. I am the first person to tell her she looks amazing, but also the first to think that she is being arrogant and self centered. I would never say it aloud for fear of hurting her. Underneath arrogance often is helplessness. I say sometimes because I’ve known Sam almost fifteen years. Her helplessness is about as deep as her kitchen sink, which sits in her house unused thanks to her diet of diet coke and ready made meals. Do I sound like a bitch? I really don’t mean to. I hate that she brings that out in me.

 The beach is quiet. There is still a plethora of people around, but it is quiet. It’s the end of the day, the tide is coming in and there is a density about the air that blocks out all irrelevant noise. Everything is calm. The only noises that manage to penetrate the haze are the ones seeping happily out from beach front hotels, balconies, bars and café’s. The sound of laughter, an eclectic mix of foreign and cheesy music, the clatter and clink of cutlery and glasses and the occasional yell from a waiter, or a seller at a nearby market stall. But it all sounds so far away. A breeze wafts under my nose and I inhale the smell of the sea, which is salty, and then of the beach, which is flowery, from the skin of women walking along it.

Adan leans back on his elbows against a lounger, and cocks his head to stare at Sam with an amused expression on his face. She is twirling about in the sand, dancing, whilst this guy (his name is something I can’t pronounce but it sounds like a long version of Mark, so we’ll call him that for the purpose of the story) and his very rock star looking friend watch. She has a flower tucked behind her ear and looks almost mermaid like against the backdrop of blue. I am drinking sangria, and am feeling almost serene.

 ‘Adan?’

 ‘Hm?’ he cocks his head in my direction, but does not draw his eyes away from Sam. Even gay guys fancy her. It’s so unfair.

 I was intending to strike up a discussion about the art gallery I had been to visit that afternoon, but before I even realise I ask, ‘Is she really all that special?’

 Adan turns to look at me now. ‘Sam?’

 I nod, chewing the inside of my lip in the way I do when I’m nervous. I have a lumpy little scar now that often catches on my teeth.

 He turns back to her and shrugs. ‘She’s enchanting anyway.’

 ‘But why?’

 He thinks for a moment, rubs his goatee then replies, ‘Fearlessness.’

 Fearlessness. Immediately I begin to wonder. Does this mean she is brave, bold, daring; all these attributes that make a person sexy and mysterious? Or is she simply obtuse? I am still wondering when Mark whatever his name is sweeps her up and twirls her around, lavishing compliments on her as his friend claps drunkenly. Adan looks at me and grins. I can’t help but laugh.
 
 
 The sky is growing dark now, and the breeze is picking up. The forecast was heavy rain overnight but I figure we still have a little time before we should start making our way back. I’m gazing nostalgically out at the water as it reminds me of when my Dad would take Sam and I out on the lilo in weather like this, and worse, so we could ride over the waves. She would go out, get her hair a little wet then head back inside mumbling grumpily. I would stay out there, laughing and riding the waves with Dad until we were blue. I always pleaded with her to stay, but she refused. If someone begged me like that, I’d never have the strength to say no to them.

 Adan is dancing around with Sam and I am sitting with Mark and his friend now. Perhaps it’s my alcohol infused temper, but I am actually singing along with them and laughing. It’s times like this, when she’s being silly and funny that I feel so lucky to know her. 

 Mark leans over to me. ‘Skin dipping?’ he asks. He knows very little English. I have been speaking to him and he is actually fairly okay; somewhat funny and charming. He has striking green eyes. I smile and shake my head. 

 ‘Not a chance.’

 ‘No?’ he gives me a cheeky but not even mildly sleazy grin. I get the feeling that where he comes from, stripping off in front of strangers is nothing to be embarrassed about.

 ‘I’m up for skinny dipping!’ Sam interrupts, sliding gracefully over the sand to stand beside me. I am sitting and she kicks me on the hip as she does so. She doesn’t apologise. Adan sits on my other side.

 ‘Surprise surprise. Any excuse to get your clothes off eh, mi chica?’ Adan nudges me and we fall into helpless fits of giggles. I am quite drunk.
 
 Sam starts swinging her hips in time with the music coming out of one of the bars. Slowly and seductively peeling off what little clothes she has on, and flinging them in mercy at Mark’s feet. Her body looks even more perfect in the moonlight. If I had my camera I would snap away photos of her, for the simple fact that she is radiating her own light, like she is an entity more special than simply human. She runs to the waters edge and splashes in. Mark and his friend soon join her. Adan and I watch them being swallowed up into the night, singing songs, laughing and drinking more, before falling asleep. When I wake up again, it is almost light.

 There is a crick in my neck and I grimace in pain as I pull myself upright. Adan is sprawled out on the sand beside me, snoring loudly, and I notice I am damp. We have slept through the night on the beach, and we seem to have escaped the rain. Either that or we were just shelterd under the wooden sun canopy. The beach is misty, and the air is heavier than it was the previous evening. I wonder what time it is, but I don’t have my watch on. My head thumps a little as I stand up and stretch. It’s another minute before I realize Sam isn’t anywhere to be seen. Panic begins to set in.

 ‘Sam?’ 

 I walk a little down the beach, pulling my knotty sandy hair into a knot and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

 ‘Sam!’

 I stand on the spot and search around. The room key jangles in my pocket. 

 ‘I’m here.’ 

 She is sitting on the decking leading to a boarded up bar a hundred yards away. I stroll up to her, wrapping my cardigan tightly around me. As I approach her I see her skin covered in goose pimples. I sit and put my arms around her, trying not to inhale the pot she is puffing out into the air in long smoggy exhales.

 ‘I fell asleep. Are you okay?’

 She huddles to me and smiles. ‘Yeah I’m fine. Went back and slept at theirs, didn’t want to wake you.’ 

 Thanks very much.

 I search her face for signs of trauma, but it is blank and beautiful.

 There is an envelope in her hand. She hands it to me. ‘This came for you. Adan’s Mum asked me to give it to you.’

 I recognize the handwriting. Snatching it from her I tear it open and break out into a grin. 

 ‘You got it then?’ 

 ‘I got it. I can’t believe it. I thought I had applied too late!’

 ‘Well they obviously liked you. Well done Pen.’

 I turn to my oldest friend and smile. ‘Thanks. They want me to start in a month. I guess I’ll need to fly out there and find a place to live.’

 Sam nods.

 ‘Will you miss me?’ I can’t help but ask.

 She smiles and gives me a friendly nudge. ‘Sure. But Boston isn’t that far away. I’ll be coming to visit.’ 

 I know that as she says that she means it, but I also know that nothing will ever come of it. 

 After a short silence I ask. ‘So what happened last night?’

 ‘Oh you know.’ she licks her lips innocently, but the simple act is so seductive I have to look away.

 ‘I can guess.’ I offer, careful to not encourage the usual outpouring of intimate details.

 ‘You know he’s a photographer too?’

 I nod. ‘He said.’

 ‘He asked me to visit him, meet some agents maybe do some modeling.’

 I look at her questioningly.

 ‘Relax.’ She replies rolling her eyes at me again like I am just that pathetically annoying. ‘You know it’s not my thing. I’m going to go back and finish my teaching degree don’t worry. You know I don’t really think I even want to be a teacher anymore but I may as well until I figure something else out.’

 ‘You’ll find something you love.’ I say encouragingly.

 ‘Easy for you to say.’ she retorts lovingly, before looking me up and down and saying, ‘You know [Mark's] friend said you were really pretty?'

'He did?' i am gravely shocked. 'What did you say?'

She shrugged. 'Nothing. There is something attractive about you.' She looks me up and down. 'But have you put on weight?'

 There is so much I want to say to her. Perhaps I would, if I felt I knew her better, or if I felt she would even care.

*

 One year later and I am standing steady in my black stiletto boots in my office, a newspaper open in front of me, my hands trembling slightly as I read. I jump a little as the phone rings. It is Adan phoning to ask if his copy of the article is in the post yet. After promising that I will get it to the post office today, and promising that I will not forget to pick him up from the airport when he comes to visit me next week, I am able to hang up.

I put a few copies into pre-addressed envelopes and amble down to the post office. It’s still quite early in the morning so the streets are easy to navigate. As I hand over the copies of my article and pay, I think fondly of my parents who I am sure will be framing it and putting on a wall somewhere, and of Adan who will proudly announce to anyone he meets that one of his best friends is a big Boston journalist now. Stopping in at the corner coffee shop I treat myself to a muffin and stare out of the window. I look at the Charles River and suddenly an image on Sam pops into my head.

I rarely speak to her now, but when I do it’s as though I saw her yesterday. I imagine us in years to come, when she is old and I have lived a most adventurous life. We will be walking along the banks of the Charles River and she will still look at me as though I cause her great discomfort and I will feel plain, awkward and have a great desire to push her in. Perhaps I will have been able to say all the things I have wanted to say for as long as I have known her. Or perhaps everything will be now and forever as it is.  Either way, I will still be the girl with the beautiful friend Sam, and she will be the girl who is friends with me.