Pretty Girls

LIFE IN HIGH school had always been the same for me. For as long as I could possibly remember, it had always been the same old routine that never could die. Wake up; get ready; grab breakfast; go to school; go home; shower; complete assignments; have dinner; sleep; repeat.

For all my years, it had always been in this exact same pattern, continuously repeating itself over and over again until the routine had been imprinted into my muscle memory. It certainly did not help that I never did have any other plans other than the usual daily schooling. This was simply because of my lack of a social life.

When my family had first moved over to California due to my dad’s growing job opportunities, my mom had spared no effort in persuading me to try and make new friends, broaden my social circle so that I could have someone to count on and for me to help. Unfortunately, I had always been a rather quiet and introverted girl, equipped with sarcasm as my only weapon. Hence, it was obvious that no one wanted a friend like me that would undoubtedly snap back to whatever comment they could possibly throw my way. After a bit of time, my parents stopped questioning me about my evident lack of social life and all was sort of fine after that.

What I could never understand when I had first moved over was why nobody wanted to be friends with me. It was only after much observation on my part and plentiful of self-pondering had I discovered the reason to my loneliness.

I was plain.

No, I would like to believe that I was not exactly hideously beyond salvation. In fact, before the entry of fashion magazines and social media, I had appreciated my looks and always wore confidence as my best accessory. Unfortunately, high school always had a way with ruining a teenager’s perspective of themselves.

Crescent Grove High certainly has its fair share of gorgeous students, boys and girls alike. From the best dressed all the way to most beautifully crafted hair, everyone here was completely superficial. Everything in Crescent Grove High was apparently based off of looks, and the student body had cast an unsaid vote that decided that this school had no place for a plain Jane such as myself.

Apparently, when surrounded by the rich and famous, there’s only one thing worse than being ugly here in California and that was to be ordinary. There was absolutely nothing about me that stood out. I was simple, the prime example of what normality was. Nerds get picked on, cheerleaders received love letters, and the hot jocks will have an army of suitors that would fawn over whatever little thing they do. I, being the middleman, had the worst position of all.

Just because of this social hierarchy that had been transcended through batch after batch of students, I started to believe that I was indeed nothing special. And truly, I sometimes still do think that way now that I’m in my final year of this personal hell. Since freshman year, I’ve been told through the lack of social confrontation, that I was too normal to stand out.

I was classified as a “nobody”, and sure enough, not a single soul had talked to me at all throughout my high school career. Sure, I was fine that way since I am – like I said – a quiet person. I only ever needed the company of my books and the constants of the world.

It was, however, inevitable that it would get lonely every once a while since I had no friends to talk to or confide in. Back in Minnesota, I had friends all around that I had grown up with and leaving hometown to come over here to California had been one of the hardest things to do as because of that, I had lost contact with them.

I began to lose more and more with every mile I flew away from home.

Cast down in the dumps, I did not bother to do anything to change myself or make myself noticeable even the slightest.

Well, it turns out, fate had a different plan in store for my ordinary life. For after a certain someone’s entrance into my life, nothing was ever ordinary anymore.