Ways To Be Unpopular

uno. fitz

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It's senior year, of course, it's the biggest moment in life. First, you think it's going to middle school that's the marking point. Maybe it's a competition you've practiced for the entire month that lands you in the first place. The photo of you with a huge trophy that's bigger than an ego paired with an outfit you now regret wearing that day. Ah, good times, wasn't it? Or, it could be like me throughout these years: when the most popular guy in the entire school notices your existence. Note my sarcasm in that final statement.

Seriously, my school isn't that huge. Literally, everyone knows each other over here.

It was time for me to begin my final first day of school. I look at my reflection in the mirror. I threw my hair in a ponytail because I don't want to have my hair affected by the humidity. I decided to wear a flannel with a pair of skinny jeans and combat boots to complete the look. It's not prestigious like everyone in school who'll strut in with the latest fall collection of whatever's out there. I go to my normal retail stores that I can actually afford. I'm still saving up for my college tuition and obviously, my own car.

For me, I think it's good that I don't have all the luxury. I know my parents do their best to support us, plus I know I can get all those things with my own money. I just decide not to. My mother works for a huge business corporation, while my father's a teacher at a school that's about a half hour from here. They told me they can afford all the luxury, but I refuse to spend their money like that.

Satisfied with how I look, I go downstairs to eat breakfast. I get a bagel and use a knife to spread the cream cheese that was already on the table. I pour some apple juice into a cup and start eating my breakfast.

My mother comes down the stairs, dressed up in a business suit. It's her typical attire, since this is a major corporation she works for. She comes to me and kisses my cheek.

"Valentina, how did you sleep?" She asks.

I swallow the piece of bagel before replying. "I slept well, how about you?"

"The usual. Your dad trying to kick me off the bed, him twisting and turning."

Of course, the usual complaint she says. It leads to my dad arguing that he likes being close to her.

"Twenty-three years of marriage and he still doesn't understand personal space," she mutters.

"Thank God I've never had a boyfriend before."

It's true. Almost eighteen years with no boys. I wonder why. Oh wait, that's for later.

"Are you excited for your senior year? Prom? Graduation?"

"Mom, it's the same as every year. I'm in the top ten percent, and I don't associate with the people in my school."

"Why not?"

"They're all pathetic mom."

My mom just gives me a look. See, the thing is, she wants me to come out of my "shell." Apparently, those parenting blogs she looks at says that my behavior is gearing towards the issue social anxiety. I honestly don't know how she assumed that, but I know I don't have social anxiety whatsoever! I just don't like associating with my grade.

Turns out, she still looks at the parenting sites. I found out when I was creeping through our family database. What? I love technology. I check up our family history and code whenever I have free time at home. I thought she stopped seeing those sites when I turned fifteen. I guess not.

Mom wants me to socialize with the kids in my grade before I graduate. It's a small town, most of us aren't leaving! There's also many reasons why I wish to not associate with them.

"Okay, I don't want to hold you up. Have a great first day," my mom speaks.

"Thank you." I grab my backpack and head to the door, but my mom's voice stops me.

"Valentina? Can you please try to make at least one friend during the school year?"

I sigh and reply, "no promises, mom."