Not My Type

Chapter 1: Cars and Conversation

Three years can change a person.

Three years can change a lot of people.

Three years changed me. I got my braces taken off and got contacts the summer before ninth grade. In high school, I got involved with debate and yearbook and community service clubs. I met new people and by the time I was a junior, I felt like I had found my niche. Granted, I was still socially awkward and I could be shy in certain situations, but I was a lot better than the fearful thirteen-year-old I was before. My goals were different. My taste in men was different. My life perspective was also a lot different.

Three years also gave me a lot of drama with friends, boys, and family. I was the typical Indian child. My parents wanted me to go to a good college and become a doctor. It didn't help that my older sister was already going to Penn on a partial scholarship and was planning on going to med school, or that she got President Clinton to speak at a school event. It certainly didn't help that I had the same teachers as her in high school, and they all remembered her much more fondly than I would have liked.

But three years also changed Jason Roberts. Maybe they didn't change him, but they certainly changed his reputation. Not only was he given a huge ego boost by making the varsity football team in his freshman year, later becoming the starting quarterback in only his junior year, he also discovered the joys of drinking, found himself a pretty blonde girlfriend, and garnered the affection of girls of all ages.

Even though we both took some of the same Advanced Placement classes, we never had any together, so we never crossed paths. I barely thought of Jason at all, actually. We just didn't run in the same circle. And that was fine by me.

And then came the first day of senior year.

Zero period. AP Economics. It was 6:30 in the morning when I parked my car after driving to school with it for the first time. I was thrilled to be starting my last first day of school.

And who happened to park next to me a few minutes later? None other than the annoying, charming, good-looking, conceited star quarterback Jason Roberts.

He pulled up in his shiny new blue BMW and got out of the car, sunglasses on, books underneath his arm. It was ridiculous. I felt like I was watching a movie or something, where the guy saunters down the hallway to dynamic music while everyone around him stares.

I then proceeded to get out of my car after texting my dad that I had arrived to school safely, grabbing my backpack from the passenger's seat and bitterly starting for my economics classroom. It was far too early to be learning in my opinion.

It was then that I noticed Jason watching me, with just a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Nice car," he said, smiling.

"Thanks," I replied, confused and slightly angry that he was making such a snarky comment. But I wasn't really surprised.

I was almost positive my car was older than me. One of the wheel covers was missing, there were scratches in random places, and one of the mirrors on my brake lights had been smashed previously. But it worked, and I liked having it.

"How old is it?" he asked.

"Old," I said, and started walking quickly away. This conversation was going nowhere.

"You taking AP Econ?" Jason didn't even have to quicken his pace. He was still walking next to me. Damn football players.

"No, I just like showing up to school an hour early when no one else is here."

He ignored my comment. "Do you know if it's hard?"

"It's Mr. Harris," I said, looking at him. "Of course it isn't."

We walked in silence the rest of the way. I was never so thankful to have entered a classroom than I was that day.

Jason held the door open for me.

"Um, thanks," I said, and I could feel my face burning. I had a soft spot for guys who held doors open for girls. I always did.

I walked in and made eye contact with Ashley, one of my closest friends, who waved at me and then gave me a puzzled look when she saw Jason behind me. I ignored it and sat down with her.

"Why was Jason with you?"

"Really? We're finally seniors and this is the first thing you say to me?"

"Are you blushing?"

"What? No!" I rolled my eyes and touched my cheek. "He parked next to me and we walked here together. But we didn't really talk. And it's hot. So that's probably why my cheeks are pink."

"It's not that hot." Ashley grinned and poked me. "Whatever. We're seniors!"

At that point, I decided to stop being cranky and laughed. "Finally! This year is going to be great."