Steve Flower Monologue

I didn’t get it. I just didn’t. My designer high-heels clicked on the sidewalk as I sprinted away. I didn’t fall, but then again, I never did. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It had been such a great plan, if I do say so myself. I would arrive at the dance at around 8:45, when it had just barely started. The love of my life, Steve Flower, would be there, and so would that penniless, poor excuse of a young woman, Allie Williams. She was ugly and unpopular, hardly wore makeup, and wore clothes that were so unfathomably disgusting that, if I tried to describe them, my tongue would shrivel up. She had achieved the American nightmare, with her absence of friends or money. But for some reason, whether it was her sickly-sweet personality or her philanthropist endeavors, Allie had gotten popular, gorgeous Steve to fall head over heels in love with her. Anyways, I had decided that, once they were both at the dance, I would strut up to him in my incredible dress, melting him in the process. Once he saw my perfect outfit, hair, and makeup, he would immediately dump Allie (hopefully quite literally, as the punch there was a vibrant red) and boom,
It was bad enough he had chosen her, but he had brought about the one thing I pride myself on in life: my looks. Since my family is wealthy, they buy me whatever clothes I want, which usually consist of all the newest trends. I’ve been doing my own makeup since I was five, and I learn new hairstyles every day. But no, Steve had torn it all apart. He had revealed, to both Allie and me, that he didn’t want that. He wanted someone with, dare I say, morals. Someone who didn’t try too hard. Someone like, well, Allie, I suppose. He had discarded me like last season’s handbags. It didn’t make sense. I always got what I wanted, whether it be boys, clothes, or makeup, but this time, I had been defeated by someone like Allie, of all