The air isn’t cold enough for a jacket. Fall is tiptoeing in, but the summer breeze still advocates for mercury’s presence in the thermometers. It doesn’t matter anyway. My younger sister’s volleyball game is located inside a stuffy dome-shaped gym to the left of Charles Wright’s track field. My mom still suggests I take my jacket.
I glance down at my phone and see a blank screen for the fifth time. There is no text from Tae, but if he’s anything like his best friend, Samson, there will be one soon. I have to admit that the last time I rode these roller coaster feelings of exhilaration and dread, I was a lot more naïve. I didn’t understand who I was or how to behave when a boy like Samson gave me attention. I didn’t comprehend why he—a charming football player in the grade above—would choose me. I viewed myself as uncool and unspectacular and unimportant. But now I have an iPhone, so that automatically makes me cool, right? Just six months earlier, I possessed a slide phone and low self-esteem instead. All it took to make me stand taller was a boy.

That situation ended abruptly when my friend told me he was only pretending to like me while secretly going out with her. Samson made me believe that I was special and lovable and worthy of his attention. He even met my mother! But I’m over it. I have rebuilt myself since then, and I’m stronger and more protective of myself because of him. Samson taught me a valuable lesson of my identity and self-worth, and I’m determined to not let myself stumble again.
  Every time I glance at my phone, I’m almost delighted by the lack of a green notification. I have a feeling that Tae will prove to be just as selfish a vampire as Samson was. However, he doesn’t have an opportunity to prove me right if he doesn't strike up a conversation via text message. Ugh. This feels like the same uncomfortable situation with Samson. Tae has no reason to talk to me, but he stated that we should hang out sometime. We should? But…why? I have never spoken to him before, so the questions from the Samson situation rise up. Why me? This time I’m not doubting my self-worth; I’m sincerely curious.

A whistle blows and suddenly my red-headed sister is on the court. Frankly, she doesn’t care if I watch or not, so I tug the homework out of my bag guilt-free. Math is difficult to concentrate on. I don’t care about negative exponents when plagued with a booming crowd on my right and a black screen in my pocket.
My phone buzzes; my stomach drops; my heart stops. I ignore the impulse to hurl my phone over my shoulder, and instead, I focus on draining the blood from my flushed cheeks.

“Text Message from Agent Cody Banks,” the notification states. I exhale in relief at the sight of a silly codename I dubbed my friend. We exchange a few shorthand phrases and smiley faces before I’m able to stop flinching every time my phone buzzes. Then it buzzes again.

A text from Tae appears. I open it. “Hey cutey,” a smooth gray bubble floats on the left of my screen.

My eyebrows shoot up when I read that word that is supposed to mean cutie. I have never been called that in my life. It doesn’t feel right, and it’s probably because a boy who barely knows me and has never spoken a word to me sent them. How dare he call me cutie when he doesn’t even know me. I’m not even sure what he looks like… Now I know that my inklings about Tae were correct. Deep down I knew he was just like his friend: he tries to win over an ignorant girl whom he could mess around with in order to find entertainment for a few weeks or until boredom set in. He doesn’t want to get to know me. I would be tricked into thinking his feelings were true and whole. I remember the hollowness that plagued me once before, so every instinct in me screams to get away from the danger and familiarity I sense in this single (seemingly harmless) word composed of five letters.

And so I explode on him.

“How dare you call me that. You don’t even know me. You know what, you’re just like your friend, and I have no interest in you. Please stop wasting my time.” Of course, italics aren’t utilized in text messages, but I’m confident that Tae received my repulsion. He never replied.

Looking back, I realize that I decided how boys would treat me that day. I also decided the way I would treat boys. If a situation made me uncomfortable, I would speak up. I wouldn't allow myself to be a useful but easily discarded item. I also wouldn’t fall for the boy just because he showed interest. Tae reminded me of my ability to speak up for myself. I didn’t let him get away with the idea that a girl dreams about a boy considering her a “cutey.” And that because it is her dream, he thinks he has the right to do so. Tae could’ve been my friend, but instead, he was my sophomore-year Samson.

I’ve dwelled on this event in my mind for a disproportionately long amount of time considering it was a two day experience, which sounds pathetic. I feel as though I have put more thought into Tae than he ever deserved. Am I giving him too great a role in my growth as an individual? Then I remember: it’s not about him. It’s about me remembering who I am and what I stand for and what I want. I don’t have to consider myself the loser just because I make him more significant in my mind than he makes me in his. I’m not inferior when my life doesn’t match up to someone else’s. People no longer have the power to make me feel insignificant.