“Oh, yeah? Fuck off!” I yell back at my friend through the halls, adding a nice middle finger to emphasize the cause.

Just as I go to right myself and face forward, I slam into a body, nearly sending their frame to the floor. I catch them just in time, righting their body on their feet. “Woah, woah, woah. Slow down there, yeah?”

I finally get a look at who I almost pummeled to the floor, and my heart drops to my stomach. My hold on you pulls you to the side, away from the bathroom door that you just came running out of, and any prying eyes.

Truth is, we aren’t close enough for me to care this much. I only know the drill since this exact scenario has happened 2 or 3 times this week.

The first time I caught you crying, I was confused and maybe a bit pissed off. What do you have to be crying about, I had thought. You’re the person people idolize here. Highest grades, class president, absurdly popular, naturally gorgeous; the list goes on.

We’d never interacted before then. Our groups don’t really…mix. You’re friends with everyone while most people just kind of tolerate me. Only time I get invited to parties is when they want my band to play—you get formal invitations with a wax seal. I prefer to be home and play video games or practice with my band for our pub shows anyway.

But that day I learned more about you than I ever really wanted to. Your parents are…one of a kind, I’ll say. They could have this perfect, fucking stellar, daughter and still want more. Apparently a 99% on a test isn’t good enough. And being late to class to help a friend in need is now a bad thing.

Fucking imbeciles.

It was easier to keep you as a fever dream. A girl from my class that I thought was too good for anyone—especially me. But once I saw those tears, you became human. What I had felt became more.

I need it to not do that… But I can’t just turn my feelings off.

“What happened this time?” My words come out kind of harsh, but that’s just my usual tone. “Is it about those fuckin’ grades again?”