So High School

Part-2 So American (Em's Version)

*Based on true story, with changed names and nationalities. 

It was a normal day at school. I raised my hand and answered questions. Funny thing: I was a huge extrovert till 5th grade. I got sent out for talking too much. After covid, I became an ambivert. Quiet with strangers or friends, and damn talkative with my best people. Strange how that works. Half the time, I don't answer in class even when I KNOW the answer, because it's hard. Hard to have the whole class's gaze on you, maybe even when people don't care. I only answer when I'm completely, 100% sure of the answer. I don't need the teacher's cold stare of rejection and a cough before asking me in a fake polite tone to sit down. I don't want that, to embarrass myself in front of the whole class. I admire those whose hands shoot up at any moment, fearless and nonchalant, remembering how I was one of them. The school day ended without incident and I trudged home, ready to put in a couple hours of sleep before basketball class.The alarm rang and I groaned simultaneously. Gods, my hair looked like stringy spaghetti, all oily with strands of hair sticking to my face. I needed a shower so bad. Eh, I would just shampoo my hair after class.I grabbed my duffel bag, tossed my basketball and phone in plus the usual stuff, and left. Lily (my best friend) was waiting for me (we live in neighbouring apartments). We started chatting about totally random stuff: what her crush had texted her 2 hours ago, what my type in men was, how she was sacrificing her lifelong dignity and self-esteem for that guy (you can probably guess my input), and how high my standards were and I'd probably never get a guy (blatantly untrue). In about 5 minutes we reached the sports complex. We crossed the huge football field and reached the basketball court where the boy of my dreams. I hoped he hadn't come today. I always ended up embarrassing myself in front of him. Unfortunately (or fortunately, I thought in a distant crevice of my mind) I could see him taking his basketball and jogging to the baseline where the rest of the kids were. We went inside and dumped our bags on the "girls only" bench (an unspoken rule set by a few of us). My other best friends were waiting for us and they waved and yelled for us to come quickly. And I looked over to where he was standing. So, so pretty. I shook my head but as I turned my head, I could feel his stare through the side of my head. (The assumption or observation that he was staring at me was the reason I'd noticed him in the first place). I glanced to the side to drool over his figure again. The worst part was that he wasn't on social media (I'd scrolled through a ton of accounts to find his but failed). Wait, no. The worst part was he was the cousin of my other bestest friend, Olivia*.I started dribbling to keep my mind off other things (cough, cough). God, he was so good-looking. Beautiful like the sun, with his oak-colored skin, shining soft honeyish amber eyes, his rare but dazzling smile, his mop of messy, dark hair. Why did he have to be so handsome all the time? Plus, since Olivia thought I had a crush on that guy (She wasn't wrong, but that's another story), she told me everything about him. He liked the same books I did, was a potterhead and percy jackson stan, loved maths, nerdy and quiet. He was perfect for me. He gave me sidelong stares that I could feel when I turned my head. There were so many instances I could almost believe he liked me. Almost. Not enough to propose. And yet . . . did he think about me the way I did?