"Nerd, the homework?"

"Did you get the homework answers yet?"

I'm nothing more than a walking encyclopaedia to the students in our school, it's always demands and needs, "homework answers, now" never, "hi Harry, how's your day been?" I don't speak unless spoken to and if I don't give the homework answers then I'm pinned against the metal lockers with hands at my collar in threat. I just can't win.

I keep my head down—as usual—while I walk through the school halls. I've memorised every floor tile by now, the ones that are more scuffed because they're more walked on, the ones that aren't the same cream colour as the rest, but a slightly yellow tinge. It's engraved into my brain along with the useless facts that I never have a chance to enlighten anyone with.

Like, did you know that our tongues are the strongest muscle in our body?

I brush shoulders with everyone I pass, unintentionally knocking them pretty harshly but I don't stop to apologise—I've finally reached breaking point, I'm ignored until someone needs something, is a friend too much to ask for? Someone to stay, someone who isn't going to use me for their own benefit?

I reach the bathrooms, hand trembling over the cool metal handle before I finally push it open. Immediately I'm met with the smell of cheap soap, the sight of watered down toilet paper clinging to the ceilings and the stall walls graffitied in stupid tallies asking 'what are you in here to do?'

One of the stalls is occupied but I think nothing of it, slumping down with my back against one of the walls near the sink. I hug my knees at my chest for a few minutes, then the door to the previously in use stall swings open. I recognise your shoes as you walk over to the sink, touching up your lip liner in the mirror, and is that a flask that you just put down on the vanity?

You take another swig of it, locking eyes with me as you do. Then, without a word, you hold out your flask to me. My eyes widen, fingers trembling as they curl around the cold steel and bring it to my lips. This is basically an indirect kiss with the school's most sought after girl, right?

The liquor burns down my throat—I don't even know what it is, vodka? Tequila? Either way it's bitter, but exactly what I needed. I look up at you standing over me, my eyes wide with curiosity.

I have so many questions on the tip of my tongue but I can only manage to blurt out one. "W-why did you do that?" I mean, no one ever cares about my presence unless they need something, much less share their saliva with me. I can't even fathom why you would do that; you're smart, you're attractive and have most people drooling over you with the way your hair falls over your face, or your long, dark lashes, why would you even spare me a glance?