The knife bites into my solar plexus and I just think, welllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll shit.

My bad. Should have seen it coming.

Sorry for cursing, by the way. I'm not much for that. I'm supposed to be nice. The Friend. Until this murdering asshole put a knife through my gut I was kind of corny. Corn-fed, even. I'm kind of featureless; I look like The Friend in the movie of your life. You might best describe me as just-attractive-enough-to-conceivably-take-the-hot-girl-to-prom-but-never-ends-up-taking-the-hot-girl-to-prom.

Anyway, I should have seen this coming.

For starters, what the hell do I do when Jenny's not around? I sit drooling and staring at the dimples in the drywall. Literally. The time passes quickly. You know how when you dream and you skip from one place to another effortlessly? That's my life, except when Jenny's there. When Jenny's there I'm part of her scene.

Last night I was at home and mom and dad were talking like trumpeting Charlie Brown adults until someone fast-forwarded me to school.

That Friday morning - yes, the same day of my murder - Jenny talked out her prom situation with Heidi. I remember that because Jenny was there. I was at the locker talking to Ryan, who has ink black hair and a varsity jacket with the number "12" in varsity font, the universal symbol of High School Quarterback. But I don't remember what we were saying.

"Mumummmmmumummmm," he said. The noise filtered into the background.

"Mumumummmmum," I said. I nodded a soft, out-of-focus nod.

I don't remember walking into Chemistry, but there I was: in Chemistry, always behind Jenny. When Jenny talks to me I can remember my dialogue.

"So, Dan, got a date to the prom yet?"

"No," I say. My chin gives this sheepish quiver like I'm not sure of my line. There's an urge to say maybe I'll ask Heidi, but instead it feels like a snake is running up my throat and out come the words: "but what about you, Jenny?"

Where the hell did that come from? I didn't want to ask her yet. But now I'm realizing I only ever remember what I say if I say it to her.

"Omigod," she says. Monosyllabic. Then the words come out of her, and Ryan hasn't asked her yet, and blah blah blah, but I can come over tonight to keep her company because she's going to be alone and she's been hearing weird things in the news about this Teen Prom Killer. Okay. I just nod really quickly, before I can think to. I'm not sure I control myself anymore. I kind of like Heidi better, but I'll pursue Jenny because I feel like it's what I'm supposed to do.

I should note I do like Jenny. You could say she's like the main character in my life. I know her dad likes to fix up '64 Mustang in the driveway on weekends and I know her mom keeps a fifth of gin locked under the living room cupboard. Everything about Jenny is in full, technicolor detail: the brown braids, the irises in their glowing CGI-green. She is vivid. I remember my time with her.

So I remember how I ended up with that knife in my gut.

We were watching something awful. One of the Transformers movies, maybe. I can't tell; our dialogue is much louder than anything on the TV, like God is doing the sound mixing.

"Jenny," I said.

She looked at me, half moon-dyed in the TV glow. "Yeah, Dan?"

I got that what's-my-line feeling, but instead I opened my lips and leaned in.

She pushed me off. Slapped me.

"What?" I asked. "What's the matter? I just went for a damn--"

"I like Ryan," she said. "You know? Your best friend, Ryan? The quarterback who throws you all those passes?"

"Hands it off," I said. "Well...I like you." I like Heidi a little better, but this feels like My Line.

"It's weird. We're friends. You're my Friend."

"Okay," I said. "Can we watch the movie? I promise I won't try anything else."

"I dunno. I'm going to get a soda."

She disappeared to the bathroom.

Now, usually at this point, my life with descend into that dreamstate and I'd stare at the movie. Because Jenny wasn't there, you see. I'm just Jenny's Friend. I would wake up as though from a nap, remember all the details of the movie so I could tell Jenny...but that was all.

This time it was different.

I was still on the couch. The TV was still glowing with its low volume. Time moved at its usual pace, even without Jenny in the scene. I was self-aware.

I did not like this feeling.

I heard a bracket of wood creak.

"Jenny?" I asked.

No answer.

I stood up. "JENNY?"

"There's no Jenny for you," Ryan said.

I turned around. Ryan stood in the dark with a hood over his face and a quivering snarl around his lips. He stuck his arm out at me and I felt something bite me in the solar plexus.

Oh, I thought.

Welllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll shit.

Ryan was the killer. I should have seen that one coming. He was the only other male with lines in Jenny's life. And if it wasn't me...

...I was just The Friend.

Always in Jenny's scenes; never in my own.

As I lay there dying, I wondered what Jenny would think. No. Not Jenny. Heidi. Because Friends have feelings too, and I am more than background meat.

Well, I would have been.

Except for this knife in my gut.