Betrayal

I used to feel bad for the flavor Grape because, while he had been my flavor of choice for all of my (then) 8 years of life, I secretly started coveting his archenemy, the dastardly and wildly popular "Strawberry."

Strawberry was the guy everyone liked. He was handsome and polite, your parents would love him (they probably already did.) Grape, not so much. Grape was a little looser 'round the midsection and while he had a crushing wit, he probably had more than a few problems with ladies. I liked Grape though, and he liked me. We had a strange connection, because while the Strawberries were out pushing each other into water fountains and collecting grass-stained knees and cheek-kisses, me and Grape were reading short stories or wondering what the pretty girls saw in guys who punched each other.

I liked Grape, and he liked me.

One day, a sweaty-palmed peer unsheathed a dagger of Now-and-Later's. He pulled from it his favorite and passed it to me.

I was faced with a choice.

Instinctively, I peeled back the wrapper to unveil my good old purple standby. But this time was different. I hovered over my friend Grape for what seemed like an hour, and, I confess, in a moment of temptation and weakness I walked up to Grape, I took his hand in mine, and I kissed his cheek.

I chose Strawberry. Despite the quizzically disappointed looks of my comrades, I chose Strawberry.

I liked it at first; Indeed I bought into it. I started doing trendy things like saying "dude" and "sweet" and I think my trembling hand even hi-fived someone.

By the end though, I became less enamored with Strawberry. He was, if anything, too sweet. He turned my mouth a brighter red than I was comfortable with; so I reached for Grape and wore it's bruise-color on my lips like a hard-won badge of loyalty.

Since then, it's "give me Grape or give me death."

Thank you for reading, it's taken me 17 years of sleepless conviction to type this out. Grape, I'm so sorry for my betrayal.