We were walking to the bus stop from the highschool together, my friend Rob and I,  like we usually did. He was my best friend. I think I was his too. I looked up at him curiously, and glanced back at the kids that were glowering after us. We had both been awarded 'Most Mature' at the awards ceremony in May, and took our schoolwork, friendships, jobs, and lives seriously. Too seriously, according to our classmates.
     "Girls are offensive," Rob blurted out suddenly. He took off his cap and itched his head before settling it back into its place, twisting it by the visor until it felt just right.
     His comment took me by surprise. Rob wasn't one to say such blanket statement things. I gave him my challenge look. Then I smiled a crooked smile. "And do you care to expound on that deep insulting statement of yours, or leave me bitter?" I asked him demurely.
     He nodded his head toward a group of local school goers, girls, who were sitting on their boyfriends laps on a picnic table in the park outside the school, texting each other from across the way and flirting obnoxiously with their dates. He raised his eyebrows at me.
     I looked over and scrunched my lips. All of the girls were starved thin, with bleached blonde hair, straightened to paper width. Their shirts were so tight to their bodies they looked painted on and the plunging necklines and outrageously mini shorts only added to their provocative behavior. I commiserated with him. Looking down at my old pair of flip flops, my long shorts to my knee, and my regular t-shirt, I smiled. "Yes," I admitted to him. "But those aren't true girls."
     He cocked his head as we came to the bus stop and our pace slackened to an end. "Oh no," he murmured, and rolled his eyes slightly as he saw my look of continuation. He knew that there was more to come. He was right of course. He knew me well.
     I nodded. "Don't get me wrong. They have truth planted deep within their hearts, but they're not showing it, and hide even to themselves that its there and that only they can unlock it and set it free." I sighed. "They're not real girls at all. They're chic's that have become actresses, good at their roles, who have masked their identity with a glitzy hollywood profile."
     It took him a moment to process it. I knew it would, and leant against the stone wall contentedly. The humming bus would be down the street any moment, tearing through the afternoon traffic to get to the curb in time and collect it's passengers. I always thought that buses were funny that way. They must have appeared like ravenous animals to the local walkers, when they were first invented. I watched the cars and saw buses stopping at the stops further up the road. That meant ours would be there soon. It would squeal when it stopped. It always did.
     He followed my example, leant against the wall, and crossed his arms.
     I glanced over at him. "Is it a good example? Does it explain everything well enough?" I asked, setting down my heavy backpack, and massaging my shoulder where it had been hanging. 
     He looked thoughtful, but didn't answer my question. "That's what I like about you," he said instead.
     I furrowed my brows. "My explanations?" Amusement played at the corners of my mouth and something in my eyes was twinkling.
     He smirked at me. "No," he said, "That you are real and don't swoon and flirt and shmoose up to guys."
     I nodded. It was mature of him to realize that. And for him to think that it was a good thing that I was real, and actually added to who I was. I was grateful for his honesty.
     The bus stopped then, with a squeal like I had predicted, and we hopped in. He let me get on first.
     I looked back at him. "Thanks, Rob." I know he knew what I meant.
     The group of teens followed us in and pushed their way through the passengers to find the seats they wanted.
     I looked at Rob, he looked at me. We smiled. I leaned towards him and whispered, "I could swoon and flirt..." I winked, "If it wasn't stupid, vain, selfish, and offensive."
     He laughed. "That a girl," He winked back at me. "In the realest and truest sense of course."