WHEN LOVE TURNS TO POISON

I have been to Kela's house maybe 20 times since we became friends in 9th grade at Decatur High, but every time I enter, I still feel like I am entering a museum where I am not supposed to touch anything. White roses imported from Ecuador in tall glass vases that cost more than my mom's monthly rent. Gold cutlery that had never been used, just for display. A chef from Midtown who charged $500 just to show up and cook for one night. And chandeliers, big big chandeliers that make my small Decatur apartment look like a boy's quarters. All of this for one boy. "Keith Anderson is coming," her mother said for the tenth time, adjusting Kela's dress. "His father owns half of Buckhead. You will be polite. You will be charming. You will not talk about that girl." That girl was me. I was already downstairs, waiting in the living room. I wore a simple blue dress I bought from Zara, $40 on sale, I had been saving for it. I did my own makeup, small lash, small lip gloss, hair packed in low ponytail. Nothing fancy. But when Kela came downstairs in her $800 white dress from Bloomingdale's, with full glam, heavy contour, her long hair flowing freely , her mother still stared only at me. Aggie, I stole the spot light. That's what Keith would later say. "Hi ma'am," Aggie smiled at Kela's mother. Polite. Soft. "Thank you for having me." Kela's mother forced a smile. "Of course, dear." But her eyes were tight. She didn't want me there. She wanted Kela to shine alone for Keith. Kela pulled me to the corner near the wine bar, her French nails digging into my arm. "Remember, just be my support tonight. Don't... you know..." "Don't what?" I whispered. My heart was already beating fast. I knew what she meant. "Don't be too much." I laughed, because I didn't understand. She never understood how much she was. How I could never be too much even if I tried. The doorbell rang. Keith walked in with his father - tall, broad, hot in a way that was almost unfair. Brown skin, clean cut, low cut dreads tied back, expensive watch, tired eyes like he didn't want to be here. He wore a black shirt, no tie, first two buttons open. He looked like money but not loud money, quiet money. Kela lit up. "Keith! Hi!" Keith shook her hand. Polite. Cold. "Kela." Then his eyes moved. Just past her shoulder. To me. For a second, nothing moved. The chef stopped chopping. The jazz music from the speaker felt too loud. Aggie was tucking her hair behind her ear, laughing at something the chef said. The light from the chandelier hit her face. Her shape in that simple blue dress took the air out of the room. Keith's throat went dry. I saw it. He swallowed. "And you are?" he asked, walking straight past Kela. Kela was standing there, holding two glasses of champagne no one had taken from her. Aggie turned. "Aggie. I'm Kela's friend." "Aggie," he repeated, like tasting the name. "You live around here?" "Oh, not here," Aggie smiled. Small laugh. "Decatur. Small apartment. Nothing like this mansion." He laughed. A real laugh, first time that night. "Mansions are boring, Decatur sounds more interesting." Kela stood there, champagne getting warm in her hands. Dinner was supposed to be Kela's night. Her mother had planned seating - Keith next to Kela, Kela's father next to Keith's father, talking about Buckhead real estate, merging families. But Keith pulled out the chair next to Aggie. Not Kela. Aggie. He asked Aggie about school. Aggie was intelligent - she talked about her business degree, her dream to open a small skincare line, how she could afford her little lifestyle without anyone's money. She sells lip scrubs on i********:, $15 each, makes $300 a month. Small but honest. He asked about her bracelet. She said, "My dad gave it to me before he died. I never take it off." It's a thin gold bracelet, faded, not real gold, but she values it like diamond. He listened. Really listened. Nodding, eyes not leaving her face. Kela watched. Her mother watched. Her father watched. Her father's face was turning red because this was not the plan. The plan was Keith falls for Kela, families merge, Kela's father gets connection to Buckhead. Every smile Keith gave Aggie was a knife in Kela's chest. Halfway through dessert, Kela's mother kicked Kela under the table. Do something. Kela forced a laugh too loud. "Aggie is so funny, right? She always makes boys laugh. She has that effect." The table went quiet. The chef looked away. Keith's father raised eyebrow. Aggie looked at Kela, confused. "Kela—" Keith looked at Kela too. And for the first time, he really saw her. Not as a rich girl. But as a girl who would pull her best friend down to lift herself up. "Actually," Keith said calmly, still looking at Kela, "I think Aggie has the effect of being herself. That's rare." Aggie blushed. Kela's hands turned to fists under the table. Her nails broke into her skin. After dinner, when Keith left, he did not ask for Kela's number. He walked to Aggie on the porch and said, low enough that only she could hear, "Can I see you again? Without the mansion?" Aggie smiled. "I don't know if Kela would like that." Keith looked back at the house, where Kela was watching from the window, curtains open, face pressed to glass, eyes full of poison already. "Yeah," he said. "I don't think she would." Inside, Kela was still holding the champagne. Her mother came to her and whispered, "You let a Decatur girl embarrass you in your own house?" Kela didn't cry. Something else happened. Something cold. She looked out at Aggie laughing on the porch, beautiful even in the dark, light from porch hitting her blue dress. And for the first time, Kela didn't want to be like Aggie. She wanted Aggie gone.