I pull my hood down and put on a serene, goddess-like look on my face as I walk past Carter, a boy who is in my English class. Keeping my head forward, I watch him out of the corner of my eye and am pleased when he glances up. He stares at me for a few moments, then looks down at his phone. 

“And so she was like, ‘Really?’, and I was like ‘Totally!’, then she was like ‘No wayyy,’ then I was like, ‘I’m serious,” my friend, walking beside me, Macey says. She is bouncing in this weird, childish way, half-skipping and half-jogging, and I roll my eyes. 

“Whatever. No one cares,” I say, and Macey’s face goes limp, void of any hint of emotion. This is what she does whenever she’s about to cry but doesn’t want anyone to know. It’s pathetic, really. Macey tries too hard to be liked. I mean, I guess it’s great that she’s trying, but it’s so obvious that she wants to have cool friends that it scares off every cool person within one mile of her. She has tears streaming down her face now, and she’s trying to wipe them away in a casual way. I ignore her, increase my walking speed, and cross the street, not bothering to look both ways because I’m that desperate to get rid of Macey. 

As soon as I enter the school, I allow myself to get swept up in the wave of students rushing to their lockers, conveniently losing sight of Macey. I get to my locker and open it, careful to keep my fingers straight to prevent my nails from chipping. I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Emma, one of my friends. 

“Alyssa!” she says in a high-pitched squeal, which is slightly annoying, although not as bad as the sound of her creaking. Seriously, she sounds like an old, rusty door whenever she’s surprised. 

“Oh my gosh,” I say, enunciating every word. “Okay, so I had the worst morning ever. I was walking to school with Macey, and she was like, talking non-stop about her cousin or whatever and it was so annoying. So I was like, ‘No one cares about you. Just shut up,’ and she started crying! It was hilarious. Her makeup was totally runny, not that it looked worse that way.” I wait for Emma’s response, which should be about how Macey sucks, is a huge crybaby, and doesn’t know how to put on makeup. Instead, she says, “Cool.” 

Cool? What does she mean, cool? I have just poured my heart out, and instead of comforting me about my terrible morning, she says cool? 

Wait, she’s talking again.

“Anyways, Holly and I were walking to the beach yesterday, right? And guess what? She was like, ‘Did you hear what Kaitlyn said?’. So I was like …”

I tune her out because I’m really not interested in some story about Emma going to the beach. Who even goes to the beach anymore? I leave her there, still talking, and she’s so absorbed in her own little story that she doesn’t even notice that she’s not talking to anyone. 

The rest of the morning is uneventful, a seemingly endless cycle of taking notes and tests. I wait for something, anything, to happen, but the most exciting thing is the teacher almost writing on the whiteboard with a permanent marker.

At lunch, I find Emma standing in front of my locker. She was trailed by Samantha, who is in my homeroom, and who follows Emma and I around like a lost puppy. Samantha’s okay, I guess, except she always looks sad and blinks too much. 

“Okay, Alyssa, so you know how I was talking about Kaitlyn this morning? Well, guess what!! She texted me! And look!” Emma shoves her phone in my face. I read the text. It says “Okay.”

I roll my eyes. “Who cares?” I say offhandedly. “Whatever. Remember what I said about Macey? Well, guess what she said to me today.” I actually hadn’t seen Macey this morning, but I’ll come up with something. 

Emma turns around and faces Samantha. “So Kaitlyn said okay, and I was like sure! But then Sydney says she’s not sure about this, and Kaitlyn was like, well, whatever, I don’t care!” 

Are they seriously ignoring me? Of course, I’m not bothered at all. Obviously. I position myself next to Samantha so it looks like Emma’s talking to me. I roll my eyes twice and walk away like their conversation is way beneath me. Who needs friends that are losers anyway?