Minerva has always been a weird sort of popular. She has a very unique look- she’s goth. Trad Goth. She is mostly left alone by everyone besides her good friends.

You, on the other hand, are completely opposite in the look scale. You love to dress girly; earning the title Barbie by everyone else. You never disliked Minerva, you just didn’t talk to her much. You talk to everyone else, though. Everyone who doesn’t dislike you, that is. Mostly everyone loves you.

Minerva doesn’t dislike you or like you. She barely notices you, even though she does think you’re very pretty. She stays strictly in her own group.

Minerva walks down the hall towards the cafeteria, the bell still ringing in her ears. She gives an annoyed scowl, irritated by the sound. She was about to turn into the cafeteria when something- more like someone- hits her from behind. She stumbles a bit and whirls around to face you, about to blow up. She blinks and looks down at your sheepish face, you were rubbing your arm.

She calms down enough to sigh and nod an apology.

“Sorry, are you okay?”

She mutters and looks you over, her heart starting to beat faster the longer she looks on.