Peer Review by Phoebe L (United States)

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The Tragedy of Strangers

By: thecrazychatlady


There are many different tragedies that people tell.

There are the tragedies that end in death. These are the story of a woman who lost her children to an unfortunate accident, the civilian gunned down by a terrorist, and the seven-year-old who died of cancer. We hear them on the news, pause for maybe a second to exclaim “How terrible!”, then continue with our busy, busy lives.

There are the tragedies nobody sees. These are the supposedly inconsequential difficulties that are an occupational hazard of
being alive. When an old memento is lost, when we forget something important, and when we realize that sometime in our pasts we were a horrible person and there is absolutely no way to go back and fix things.

And then there are the tragedies that we see, but dismiss as petty, shallow, and stupid in the overarching pursuit of success and happiness. These are the daily dramas, the teenage angst, and the melancholic episodes characteristic of an old soul. The two lovers who met against all odds but turned out not to be, the orphaned child who grows into someone perpetually lonely, and, perhaps worst of all, the tragedy of a pair of people who knew everything about each other and shared their hopes, fears, and dreams, but then became strangers once again.

There are not enough people telling the stories of the strangers who became as close as siblings only to lose each other to fate, to time, or their own incompetence.

Regina liked to swear. Perhaps it wasn’t a proper habit, by any definition of “proper”, but she was young and besides, she kept it PG around adults. But her blunt candor and shamelessness made her interesting.  For a short time, she was popular. And she decided that she liked it. She drifted from her old friends and became a tentative member of the “popular” kids. Regina knew she didn’t belong there. She was a puzzle piece jammed into a spot she didn’t fit, but for a few months of just the sheer novelty of being liked, being normal, it was worth it.

Drew was as socially awkward as it got. He didn’t understand sarcasm, blushed frequently, never cursed, and was generally kind to people. He could be condescending from time to time, yes, but that was a result of his general insecurity about social situations. For a time, he was unpopular. He decided he hated it and did his best to become someone girls fell over themselves to fawn over and guys jockeyed to find a spot to talk to him. Slowly, he changed himself to meet his goal. He was an athlete, after all, and people liked athletes. That was something, right? He had that going for him.

Somehow, these two very different teenagers became friends. They bonded over homework, shared annoyances, and the fact that they were two people who didn’t quite fit the norm and were struggling to meet the standard. Regina and Drew were joined by another boy soon after.

Tristan was optimistic, funny, and has the most annoying crush on this one girl that Regina was friends with. His Napoleon complex made everyone angry, but he was loyal and didn’t let people mess with his friends.

She developed crushes on both of them at different points in time, and it just goes to show how strong their friendship was when their dynamic didn’t change a bit.


“Drew, you’re such a showoff.” Tristan was laughing as Drew’s face turned red. “I am not,” he snapped. Regina snickered. “You are. Tell me, was it absolutely necessary to dribble behind your back fifty times before spinning and doing a reverse layup? Against someone half your height?”
“Hey, it’s fun!” he said defensively. But he was grinning.
“We know,” said Tristan. “It’s why you’re such a showoff.”
Drew threw his hands up in the air in defeat.


But all good things must come to an end.

It was harder and harder for Regina in the “popular” group. They were all athletic, obsessed with typical teenager-y things like Starbucks and Vans and were, well, popular. Her two best girlfriends were two of the most attractive people at school.
And Regina? She was pudgy and unathletic, liked to study, thought the typical teenager-y things were dumb and vapid, and, when compared to her two best friends, continually came up short. She began to go home and sit, for hours, just staring in front of her. Or if she didn’t, she would go her homework weeks in advance. She needed something to do with her hands, something she could do well. Schoolwork was easy. Good grades were easy. They made her feel smart, validated her.

Swearing became less than fun. It was something she did because it made people look at her, made them do a double take, made them smile. She cracked dirty jokes because they shocked people and made her feel like she was funny. She thought that if she stopped, her friends would lose interest in her and drift away.

Regina never once considered that maybe they weren’t her friends at all if they did that.

She became moody at school, melancholy, and pessimistic. The girl who smiled sunnily at those she met in the halls was fading, fading, fading. Fading fast, and she knew it. Regina didn’t want to lose herself but she didn’t know how not to.
Her first mistake was confiding in Drew. She told him everything: her petty fears, her insecurities, and the sheer hopelessness she felt every day.


“I look like a freaking potato,” she told him one day, frowning. He shrugged. “Not really. I mean, look at me. I’m whiter than paper and more athletic than half the people here and girls hate me. I just have to wait until high school, and by the girls will probably like me.” Drew’s smirk made his whole face light up.
“Fat chance,” she told him, grinning. “We’re gonna be alone forever.”
His expression turned slightly serious. “Look, Gina. You should hope that things’ll be better. It’ll make everything stop looking so terrible.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Last year—remember, I had no friends—I felt the same way you do now. I was too afraid to hope that things would get better because then I’d get disappointed and I’d fall, hard. But hope kept me sane, and things are better now.”
“If only it was so easy. Magical hope and all that. I just know that if I do ever start being optimistic something awful will happen and everything will suck even more.”
Drew shook his head in exasperation. “God said once that He won’t help you if you can’t help yourself, or something like that.”
“Bringing religion into this conversation? Really?” Her tone was dry, sarcastic. It usually was, nowadays.
“You like discussing this stuff. Hear me out, bro.”
She shrugged. “So why’s God relevant?”
“Because I can only give you advice. If you don’t listen to me, it’s your own fault.” Drew looked at her, and said quietly, “I’m begging you, Gina. Try looking at the bright side for once. You’re popular, funny, and a darn good writer—though not as good as me,” he added as an afterthought, to make her smile.
She did.


Regina managed to follow his advice for approximately one day before lapsing into the fog of melancholy. She and Tristan were getting into more and more fights about his “ridiculous, obsessive, and absolutely nuts crush on Kate” (according to Regina). As a result, she got even closer to Drew. So close that people asked if they were dating, hoped they were dating, and cheerfully told them to date. Their response was always the same. “He’s basically my brother,” Regina said. “I don’t date my siblings.” Drew nodded.
So as the two of them became as close as siblings, Regina and Tristan’s relationship became even more strained.


“Why are you mad at me?” Regina asked him. Engaging him was her second mistake.
“Because you told Kate I thought she was flirting with Greg. Duh,” Tristan said sullenly. Regina bristled. She had only asked Kate if she was interested in Greg to alleviate his fears.
“You’re so paranoid it’s annoying,” she replied, annoyed. “I’m not trying to tell her.”
“I can’t trust you,” he said simply. It was those four words that incense Regina more than ever. Her temper was quick to flare, but nothing set her off faster than being accused of things she wasn’t. She especially hated being called untrustworthy. “Attention-whore”and “jealous bitch” were two other things she hated being called.
“Gee, thanks,” she replied, as coolly as possible.
“Don’t talk to me. I don’t care anymore,” Tristan replied. An obvious lie, because he hadn’t walked off yet.
“What is your deal?” Regina asked, angry and still in shock. “Ugh, talk to me tomorrow if you want to apologize,” he told her, and turned to leave.
Apologize?! I did nothing wrong!”
“Kate told me. Don’t act all innocent,” he said, engaging her again. Regina was practically at wit’s end with him by now. “I didn’t tell her! What the heck? I was trying to help you!”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” he scoffed.
“What even happened to you? You would never be this mean.” Vindictively, she added, “Maybe I didn’t know you as well as I thought.”
Tristan never could walk away from a confrontation, she reflected later.
“Neither would you. Maybe I didn’t know you as well as I thought,” he said. His immaturity angered her further, which she hadn’t known was possible.
“I would never hurt you the way you’re hurting me right now.” She wanted to cry. By all the unmerciful gods she wanted to cry. Or punch him. Maybe both.
“You showed me you can’t keep my trust. Nothing hurts more from a friend that that.” (He was wrong. Lots of things hurt more what Regina had supposedly done, which she would find out later.)
“Well, thanks for only telling one secret, not a bigger one.” Tristan smiled sarcastically, eyes flashing with malice.
Regina was confused by now. He hadn’t even told her it was a secret, that he thought Kate was flirting with Greg.
The fight went on and on and on. Ugly things were said by both of them, both implying they didn’t want to be friends anymore.


But the next day, they made up. And it happened again, and again, and again. Until one day, Regina was done.
The trio had crumbled into ashes. Tristan had started hanging out with Drew and a boy named Ed, and the two previously best friends rarely managed a conversation without getting into a screaming match.
“God, you’re so depressing,” Tristan said to her during one such screaming match. Scorn dripped from his every word. “You’re not even fun to hang out with anymore.”
Tears pricked at Regina’s eyes. “Screw you,” she spat, and spun on her heel. “That’s a bad language word,” he said. She could hear the smirk in his voice. His immaturity annoyed her to no end, he knew.
Her fists clenched. She wanted to punch him, but she wouldn’t. She knew he wouldn’t. Tristan would tattle and then she’d be well and truly screwed.
She never forgave him for the things he’d said, the crap he’d made her feel like during every fight when he called into question all of her personality traits. To Tristan, Regina was a salty, depressing little bitch who was worth less than a spent cigarette. He’d said as much.
The worst part was that she agreed him. She was petty, selfish, and insecure, and she knew it.


The summer after that terrible year where everything fell apart, Drew was extremely, excruciatingly busy. He had been doing some serious thinking about himself and the people around him. During school, he had been too busy comforting and “therapist-ing” Regina about her numerous problems and her feud with Tristan.
Regina and Drew texted back and forth almost every day at the beginning of summer, before he had to leave for New York. Their conversations became shorter and more sporadic.
“I’m going to summer camp,” he texted. “And I won’t be able to text because they take our phones.”
“Awww,” Regina replied. “Have fun! And text as soon as you get back. We rarely talk anymore.”
“Yeah.” came the reply.


Summer camp came and went. She got no texts from her “hypothetical and metaphorical brother”.
So Regina, out of curiosity, asked Tristan if Ryan had texted him lately. Maybe his parents had taken his phone.
“Haha, yeah. He’s at my house right now, actually.”
“Really?” she texted back.
“Yeah.” Tristan sent a picture of the two of them, and Regina’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Cool,” she replied. “Thanks, bye.”
She thought it was a betrayal. It felt like a betrayal. She and Tristan hated each other and every opportunity she got she insulted him, picked him apart, tore at him. Drew would only defend his best friend.
Petty, petty, petty. Why did she even care? She shouldn’t care.
Her third mistake was texting Drew. “Yo, why didn’t you text me? Thought you said we’d talk right after you get back.”
“Had to spend time with family, since I’ve been away.”
“And by family, you mean Tristan?” It was spiteful, she knew. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, stop.
“Yeah, Tristan’s practically family.”
His text hit her like a sledgehammer to the gut. “So what am I?” she asked, knowing the answer. Dreading the answer. Why did she do these thing to herself? Why couldn’t she just leave it well enough alone?
“You’re a really good friend.”
Regina put her phone down and allowed a choking sob out. “Yeah? Screw you, Drew. Screw you,” she typed. Her heart was being squished into a tiny lead ball that rolled around in her chest. Every breath was an uphill battle as she watched the three dancing gray dots that meant he was typing.
Regina swore. She swore long and loud and reused several four-letter words.
“You know what? Whatever. I don’t care. Bye.”
He didn’t even care enough to demand an explanation again. Why did she care, though? Why did it hurt so much that they weren’t siblings, that he wasn’t her brother.


More fights. So many more fights, petty ones, real ones. Tears shed, long conversations that Drew wanted to leave but couldn’t.
“Hey, so I heard Tristan called me a bitch.”
“Well, he says that kind of thing a lot. I wouldn’t remember an exact instance.”
Shock. Pure shock. He really  didn’t care, did he? He’d defend Tristan to the death but her, oh, you think Regina’s a bitch? Cool for you, bro.
Her nails dug into her palm.


They stopped hanging out. They stopped texting. Drew got a new crowd, a crowd of girls who worshipped the ground he walked on. It made Regina sick. “Do you even still want to be friends?” she asked on a call. It was better to do these kinds of things on a call, her friend had told her.
“Regina…” Drew sighed. (He used her full name. He never did that.) “I don’t want to be friends in the same capacity as before.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice was steady. How was it steady?
“Regina, I don’t think I want to be friends with you anymore.”
“So this is it?” she said quietly.
“Yeah. Goodbye.”
“Bye.” She hung up.


She condemned him. Regina hated Drew as much as she had once loved him and it hurt her every time she said something mean, something spiteful, but she was then filled with a savage glee. A word that hurt him, stung him, ripped to the bone, was a word well-spoken to her.
Regina was fully aware that she had been a bitch. Throughout the endless array of fights she had betrayed him, lied to him, gotten angry over the stupidest things.
But so had he. He had kicked a hole in her chest and then ran over her with a Hummer. Lashing out was the only thing she knew to do.


Drew got a girlfriend. He and his best friend—new best friend, Regina thought, with a twinge of bitterness—were, for some reason, talking about love. “What do you know about love?” Regina asked scornfully.
“I know about love,” he said defensively.
“Really?” Regina’s voice was sweet, syrupy. “I loved you, and look what happened.” It was the first time she had said “I love you” to a guy. He had never been her boyfriend. She had never loved him romantically. But she had loved him and she needed to say it, at least once. To make him feel the bitterness lurking around the edges of her thoughts. I love you. I miss you, the old you. I miss what we had and will never have again. I loved you.
“I loved you too. That’s why it hurt,” came the quiet reply.
He sounded so fake. Putting on another performance for his replacement Regina. There was no emotion behind his words.
There hadn't been behind hers, either, except anger and scorn and betrayal and everything that she could never put into words.
She barked out a laugh. “You think I care?”
“You brought it up—” he tried, but she turned away. A minute later, he was talking to replacement-Regina about something funny Tristan had done.
He didn’t care.
She knew he didn’t. Here she was, still caring by needing to insult him, tear him down, by missing him and thinking about how she used to love him and being so miserable because he was in all of her classes, and she had to see him every day hanging off stupid replacement-Regina and his girlfriend.


 She sat with her back to the wall, her face tilted skyward, and her tears quietly rolling down her face as she thought about what could have been if maybe she hadn’t been so stupid and messed everything up by being petty and insecure and a jealous bitch.
Maybe if she hadn’t been bitter. Hadn’t been depressing. Kept her smile from slipping. Maybe. The maybes, on their own, could drive her insane. The what-ifs and the could-have-beens ons accelerated the process.
Regina watched Drew and her replacement laugh with Tristan, and felt something die in her chest.


Weeks. It took weeks and weeks for her to realize that no, the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is apathy. And she was tired of hating him, tired of feeling as if her very blood boiled every time he got near. Tristan’s betrayal had hurt, hurt for a long time, but she had gotten over it eventually. Drew’s...Drew’s still stung, but she shoved it down. Regina didn’t want to feel it anymore. It hurt too much.

So one night, she took a notebook and wrote what her heart was screaming and her fingers ached to put on paper.

I realized that the boy whom I’d move mountains for, tear down the world for, and fold a million paper cranes for, was gone—irretrievably and irrevocably.

Because Drew was gone. After their falling out, he had become someone else. Someone Regina couldn’t recognize or reconcile with the Drew from the previous year.  

It is that sobering thought that breaks my heart, she wrote. I had loved him with all of my tattered soul and he had left.

Yes, Regina felt she needed to be properly dramatic. She needed catharsis, and if it took her writing like a heart-broken Juliet then by God, she would write like a heart-broken Juliet.

It breaks me a little more every time I see him happy—happier—without me. And it kills me because of how one cannot love a stranger, no matter who they used to be. My heart is full of words, yet I can’t get him to understand that I loved him.

Love is a tricky thing, Regina thought. To love someone romantically had its own slew of problems, but loving someone platonically could hurt just as much.

The next morning, she woke up with a weight off her shoulders. There was a lightness in her step for the next few weeks as she adjusted to the novelty that was not caring about someone who she would have done practically anything for.

But Drew’s stupidity still got on her nerves. An intelligent statement that was both coherent and true was rare coming from him nowadays, and it drove her insane. She missed being able to have intelligent conversation about complicated topics without the length of his junk dominating the conversation. Dear Lord, if he said one more thing on how “Well, if I were President, I’d completely get rid of the federal debt limit!” in his happy ignorance, she would punch him. In the throat. With a steak knife.

Science class was a new kind of hell. The teacher had gotten the brilliant idea to put Drew and Regina diagonally from each other and replacement-Regina next to Drew. They would have “deep conversations” while the teacher lectured and Regina
hissed at them to please shut up because I can’t hear a thing, dang it!

Regina was fed up. Drew was having his third identity crisis in as many months and she was tired of him and replacement-Regina discussing it, so she jumped in to clear things up in a rare moment of complete idiocy.

“Let’s make this easier. Who are you?”

Drew was on the verge of making a snarky comment before Regina smirked and said, “Really. Without the sarcasm and wit, please. Who are you really?”

He opened his mouth to reply, closed it, and looked away. Replacement-Regina (Tori, her name was?) snickered. “You don’t know, do you.” It wasn’t a question.

Sighing, Regina decided to jump in the deep end. “Look, I want to help you,” she said, silently adding “If only to get you and
your sycophants to shut up.”

His eyes widened. “You want to help?”

Rolling her eyes, she said “You’ve got to stop projecting a version of me and basing your actions around the projection. People are much messier than your 2-d versions of them. It’s easy to label me as a bitch because it’s so much easier to hate that version of me, rather than an actual human being with actual human feelings.”

She should know. She had hated a projection of him for months, before she’d realized that he was so much more than a projection. He was a person.

“You’re rather incredibly self-centered, if you haven’t noticed,” she added. The cutting remark had slipped past her lips before she could snap her big mouth shut.

“What? I am?”

Regina sighed. “I know you better than everyone else in this room, Drew, except for maybe Tristan. Do you agree with that statement?”

“You do know me better than everyone else, including Tristan.”

“Finally, he says the right thing,” Tori said dryly.

Regina only smiled grimly at her before turning to Drew. “Listen. Text me, okay? I can help. I owe you for the long conversations therapist-ing me. And if you don’t text…” she shrugged. “I won’t care.”

He wasn’t going to text. She knew him well enough to know that he never would.

And despite his nod during science class, she never did get a text from him. She looked at her phone screen and sighed before tucking it into her pocket and moving on.


Peer Review

"Her heart was being squished into a tiny lead ball that rolled around in her chest." I thought this was an unusual, refreshing way to say a character's heart is beating fast. It reminded me of one of those little wooden handheld games, where you have to lead a tiny metal ball through a maze into the correct hole (I hope you know what I'm talking about?) I mention this because I thought the connection was really clever between the way you described the way Regina felt and the sensation of texting someone, waiting for a risky answer. When you repeat the motif of the lead ball and the tiny grey dots, it almost feels like the anxiety Regina feels inside is reflected back at her on her phone screen.

I am left feeling happy for Regina, because I think she has a lot of character development in this piece. Like I said, I enjoyed the ending of your story and the fact that Regina is okay with things not going the way she wishes they would with Drew, because she has learned to work through her problems and move on.

I think the way you formatted this piece, in many small separate scenes, was a cool structural style for a story. Is there a reason you chose to write this in third person, rather than doing it in first person and alternating the narrator from scene to scene?

Reviewer Comments

I think one of the strongest aspects of this piece is the dialogue. It is well written and realistic, and I can imagine overhearing these conversations in a school or Starbucks. You've constructed their conversations in a way that reveal a lot about each character in a small amount of time. I like that you include minor, everyday details of conversations, because it makes them feel all the more real.
I also really enjoyed your narration style. I like the way it switches between feeling formal and omnipresent to the very intimate details it gives about each character (like the way Regina describes herself as pessimistic and mean, but its said in third person rather than first person).

Great job with this piece! :)