I’m one of the last to homeroom. I take my usual seat right beside Cat, and two rows in front of you. I hear more talking. I can hear my name. I smile. So does Cat. Cat is one of those natural beauties. She has long legs and a perfect tan and a pretty face. I don’t know how we became friends, but somehow we clicked in kindergarten and we’ve been best friends ever since. I sense somebody sitting down in the seat beside me. I look over. Its you. My heart is beating so hard that I’m half afraid someone will hear it. I hope I’m not blushing. I look you in the eye. You smile. You look kind of nervous. I smile back. Hopefully I don’t look as nervous as I feel. You scoot your desk towards mine and lean over as if to ask me something. But I don’t want you to ask what you’re asking. I feel all sweaty and light headed. I realise what an idiot I am. I realise we’ve never even had a proper conversation before. I realise I’m an idiot. You’re putting you hand on my arm now. Your lips are moving. But honestly I’m not actually listening. I’m thinking about what an idiot I am. I need some water. Or a brain transplant. Whichever is handiest. I look at your hand on my arm. I have in fact heard the rumors about you. I wonder are they true. I hope not, because they really are horrendous. I mean, all those girls. Jeez. Oh no. Your hand has moved. Its on my leg. Oh God. What is it doing there? I want to move it, but I’m paralyzed. It could be the shock of you near me, but I think it’s the shock at realising the momentous idiot that I am. I remove myself from my conscious coma and listen. You’re saying something about a party. You want me to come. I wont. But I wont tell you that. I nod my head like I’m listening. You tell me you like my new look. Somehow my idiotic brain tells me to slip out the word ‘perfect.’ You smile. You agree I am perfect. I had wanted you to say that. Earlier though, not now. Right now I want something. Something that’s not you. I remember that girl, Clarissa, you dumped last year. But you didn’t technically dump her did you. You made out with her best friend first. Oh my God. Obviously I was too obsessed to realise what a jerk you are. Okay. Time to stop this whole touchy-feely situation with my leg. I stand up. Your hand drops from my leg. Your mouth hangs open. You were in mid sentence I think. I politely tell you I cant go to your party. You smile good naturedly and ask what about a date. I tell you I’m booked up. I have to get out of the classroom. I need to get away from you. You talking and flirting with me is just reminding about how much I have changed. And honestly, I don’t like it anymore. I need me.