Alex

I'm sitting in the back of the classroom as Ms Dalon is giving our tests back. I'm neither focused on what the teacher does nor on my friends' idle chatting. I'm looking at her. Kinda. I'm gazing out the window, then glancing at her, then back at the window. Occasionally I answer to a question one of my friends asks me. They know I'm grumpy in the morning, though, so they don’t bug me too much.

Which leaves me alone with the gazing and glancing. It's pathetic, I know. I just can't help it. Besides, I'm not doing anything bad. I'm just looking at her. I can look at a classmate if I want to. There's nothing wrong with that. I do what I want with my own damn eyes.

The maths teacher is handing her her test, a fond expression on her face - all the teachers adore her. I can see her taking the sheet of paper, then smiling proudly. Brightly. I only notice my own smile when a dumbass throws a paper ball at her and makes me lose it. She doesn't, though. Lose her smile, I mean. She never lets others ruin her mood. I don't know how she does it. I'd have broken the guy's nose if I was her.

That's another thing people don't know about me, I guess. My being violent when pissed off. I wouldn't be that popular if they did. A good girl's not supposed to be brutal, especially if she's one of the school's cheerleaders and has long, straight blond hair, and makeup on her face. It doesn't matter that cheerleading involves carrying and throwing girls you age in the air; it's girly so, not a real sport, right? Just like dancing or, I don't know, ice skating.

We still have a boy in the team, though. Elliot. Great kid, not that feminine but hella gay. Doesn't really help bringing the stereotypes down.

I look at her again. Her hair's a mess of long, kinda bluish black locks falling on her shoulders. Like a dark and wild ocean. She's looking at the blackboard, paying attention and taking notes - like I should be doing. Instead I wonder if she, too, thinks cheerleading isn't a sport. I hope she doesn't, though it wouldn't make a difference anyway.

We never talk. I'm the most popular girl in the whole school, and she's just the nerdy kid everyone makes fun of. I shouldn't even be looking at her, she's not worthy of my attention.

At least that's what my friends would say.

Nancy

Sasha and Ibrahim are frantic today. They're whispering furiously when I sit at my usual spot next to Ibrahim, and when I ask what they're talking about, they hiss at me to pipe down.

"Elliot's gonna ask Sash' out!" Ibrahim says in a breath, and the other boy slaps him on the arm. I look at Sasha with a question in my eyes and he shakes his head, ears red like tomatoes. In the back of my mind, a voice tells me Elliot's one of her friends. I hush the voice away.

"Ibrahim says he heard Elliot talking to Jess about it, but there's no way it's happening", he says, looking down at his food.

"Why do you think that?" I ask him, but he just shakes his head again. I turn to look at Ibrahim. He rolls his eyes.

"The guy's been like this since I've told him! Thinks no one could possibly like him, let alone Elliot. I've been trying to convince him all morning but it's no use. It's true, though."

"No it's not and you know it", Sasha sighs.

I frown. "Why not? You two are friends, right?" I’ve only met Elliot a few times, but he seemed to genuinely care about Sasha.

"That's the point. We're friends ." He sounds bitter, and I know why. Sasha has had a huge crush on Elliot for two years, and they have been friends for less than one. It took Sash’ a lot of courage to even think about trying to befriend him.

"You're afraid to have your hopes up, aren’t you?" I ask, although I already know the answer.

"I'm totally out of his league", he mumbles, then louder : "Yes, I'm scared to have my hopes crushed, then stomped on." He sounds hollow so I squeeze his hand in an attempt to comfort him. He immediately pulls it out of my reach to gesture wildly, his voice an angry cry. "Which is what's gonna happen because there's no fucking way Elliot-I'm-gay-and-a-cheerleader-but-no-one-cares-'cause-I'm-too-popular- Collins likes me back !" His sentence cracks on the last word and he falls immediately quiet, arms crossed like a shield. His eyes are shining with unshed tears.

Ibrahim immediately stands out of his seat to pull his friend into a big hug, muttering sorry s and it's okay s. I can only stare, body and mind frozen in silent panic. Sasha's words are echoing in my head, stabbing my heart without mercy. I think about how I took a detour just so I could stare at her back on my way to the cafeteria. I think about how she's perfect, and popular, and how I am not. I think about how we never even talked .

My best friend is crying in the arms of my other best friend and all I'm thinking about is how I'm stupid to think she could bother to even look at me.

I'm so selfish I want to cry. Instead I get up and help Ibrahim comfort Sasha.

When he's calmed down, we take him out to play cards on a bench, under the bright spring sun. Nobody mentions Elliot until the end of lunch break, when I leave them to go get my gym outfit out of my locker.

PE is the only discipline I'm not good at, and I kind of hate it. But it doesn't mean I can be late.