How Not To Befriend a Boy | original

How Not To Befriend a Boy

A/N: Narrator is a) unreliable b) emotional and c) thirsty. Be warned lmao.

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how not to befriend a boy.

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First, be an immature twelve-year-old. This is exactly as easy as it sounds. Do something so stupid that the rest of the class automatically thinks you're annoying. And clingy. And fake. Ignore your gossiping peers. Try not to cry. They'll hate you until you graduate. This is normal.

Second, meet a boy. You're twelve and he's thirteen. Don't think much about him, but you do. The first thing you notice is that he isn't very tall, but that's okay because you're short. His eyelashes are long and pretty. Too bad he looks like he's constantly judging you. Get scared of his 24/7 poker face. He's the responsible sort of kid who finishes all his homework, yet he's nice enough not to remind the teacher of said homework. Or maybe he's just quiet. (He's probably just really quiet.)

He's like your opposite. He's silent and expressionless, while you feel like you're ostentatiously dumping your feelings on anyone within a two meter radius. You think you'll never get along.

"Forget" to do your part in a group project with him. He's pissed.

"I had to do your part for you," he says. His voice is deceptively calm. His sharp eyes are like laser beams, boring into your chest. "I don't think you deserve to have your name on the credits page."

Nervously laugh and come up with a bad excuse. Of course he doesn't buy it.

"You're really arrogant if you think you can do that."

It feels like your heart has been dunked in a bucket of icy water. He's angry, and reasonably so. Mumble an apology. He doesn't speak to you for the rest of the lesson. Faintly believe you've just made a new enemy and he'll hate you forever.

There's something about his aloof demeanour and seriousness that makes you tense up. Afterwards, he never speaks much to you (or anyone else, for that matter). Life goes on. You two don't interact for two years.

Third, be lonely. You're twelve and a good cook, but you only know how to cook for one person. (This isn't your fault.) You want everyone to like you. Arm yourself with saccharine words and overly-bright grins. Think about how you get along with everyone yet no one is your friend. Pretend you don't see their stares and hear their whispers. Snobbishly believe you're terrific and they're missing out. Sulk in your own puddle of self-pity, but hold your head up high in front of everyone else. Futilely hope one day you'll find someone who'll appreciate you for who you are, hope that you'll find your Prince Charming. No one listens to you at home, so you ramble to everyone at school in desperate hopes of acknowledgment and recognition. You talk about the TV shows you watch, the romcom books you read, your celebrity crushes, the hot boys at school, your latest project, how no one likes you, how you're always the victim—

(Later you realize you were trying too hard. Trying to get closer to everyone ends with you being pushed further away. This is not something your twelve-year-old mind can comprehend.)

Find a random group of girls to sit with at lunch. They don't like you, but they don't dislike you either. You pretend you're friends, and they play along. Know this "friendship" won't last. This barely staves off your loneliness for maybe half a year.

It's the little things that expose the truth of your friendship. Walk behind when the pavement doesn't fit all of you. Pretend you understand the inside jokes. Say things you don't believe in. Bake the sweets they like. Give pretty but meaningless birthday gifts to everyone. Have your own birthday be forgotten. Smile when everyone does. Pour out your intimate thoughts to them, they nod politely and you get the feeling they aren't listening. Know that people only talk to you when they have no one else to talk to. You're the substitute, the second-best. Think about how you're always running to their classrooms but they never visit yours, not even once. Come up with excuses to soothe yourself, but you have none. Maybe they still care even if they don't show it. (It's a lie, a pretty white lie you're using to comfort yourself.) You're not alone, but you're lonely.