There were the preppies, the hipsters, the nerds showing comparing each other's calculators, the cheerleaders, the cheerleaders’ jock boyfriends, the goths milling about depressingly, the gleeks, the geeks, the slightly cooler geeks and then there was me. You probably wouldn't even notice me – you'd notice the mostly empty table that I was sitting at yeah, but no one would've noticed me, the one occupying the table, the short bespectacled girl; the resident loser.

That right there is what I am according to Hajima High's social system. I am the lowest of the low, not even befitting of the title ‘runt’. The so-called runts of this school are less not popular than me. Even the self-claimed loners have other fellow self-claimed loners to hang with. The table where I sat at had dust on the seats.

On good days, I would try to be a bit optimistic. My table was hidden far in one corner of the cafeteria. Maybe the other students were too lazy to walk that extra few feet to sit with me? On good days, this is what I kid myself with. 

On bad days though, I'd stab at the dodgy cafeteria food with a little extra force than necessary, trying to hold in the tears when a few bullies would pick on me. Names and insults they'd throw at me and a voice would pop in my head, that voice saying how "high school is the absolute worst." Bad days occur more often than naught.

This had been a somewhat decent morning so far. Classes seemed short and sweet, plus nothing particularly major has happen, just the usual name-calling and such. Right about now, as I sit alone at my usual empty table, my eyes drink in the numbers of students piling in the cafeteria. I squint and fix my specs, trying to get a better look, trying to find him: Jiyong. I'm not talking about the Jiyong in carpentry class (he's a total floozy) – I’m referring to Kwon ‘G-Dragon’ Jiyong, who, according to the latest issue of our school magazine, is the top kingka* of our school. That Jiyong. 

Jiyong mostly never takes the morning-break in the school compound. Normally, him and his group of friends just ditch school and hop by the nearest McDonalds for a bite. On Thursdays, though, he makes it an exception to grace us common folk with his presence. I check the date on my watch again. Yep, today's a Thursday alright.

My eyes scour the rows and rows of mundane tables and chairs, searching for the head of bleached hair belonging to Jiyong. I was just about ready to dump my food in the bin and give up and just hole myself up in the library until the noon bell rings when he walked in. Jiyong doesn't just walk like any other person, he walks. Whenever he walks into a room, people's head just snap up to look at him, instantly attracted to his strong presence. 

My spoon slips out of my fingers and clatters on the floor loudly, but I don't care. He enters the cafeteria, followed with his posse, consisting of Dong Youngbae aka Taeyang, Kang Daesung, Choi Seunghyun commonly known as T.O.P and the newest addition to their group, the freshman Lee Seungri, who keeps trying to make people call him Victory (which is a tad ridiculous).

I sigh dreamily at the sight of Jiyong, food long abandoned. I think I have hearts in my eyes just looking at him. I probably look like a typical love-struck idiot - but, hey, it's not like people actually bother with me or anything.

Him and his little band of friends, happen to be the most popular group in school. They are as well-known outside of school as they are inside. Most of their popularity is linked to their upbringing. All five of them belong to elite families, their baby pictures are put up in magazines and all of them have modeled for some kind of brand or other at least once. If someone hadn't heard of them before, their popularity sure was evident now, judging at the way the students parted as they walked.

Another huge chunk of their popularity is their looks. A single wink from anyone of them can make girls squeal. Some did just so as they sauntered pass. Jiyong had the decency to flash a small smile at his fans. The squeals came even louder. If Jiyong ever throws a smile at me, I would scream and then promptly fall dead at his perfection.

I didn't spare a glance at the others. My two eyeballs were only glued to Jiyong. It's a bit rare for me to catch a glimpse of him considering the fact that he's a whole two years older than me and that I'm a complete nobody. He's laughing at a joke Daesung had made, one hand slung over the latter. I continue ogling as they sit at their usual table, the table placed smack dab in the middle of the cafeteria. I am blatantly staring, I know, and staring at people is rude. If my mother sees me now, she'd have a fit. But having the eyes of many zeroed in on them is an everyday thing for the five. They each have their own fan club, Jiyong's being the largest. I've heard that they had to issue court restraints for some of their more fanatical ones.

He took a seat, his back facing me. He is still animatedly chatting to his friends when a really pretty girl walks right up to the table and flat-out sits on Jiyong's lap, not minding the others as she starts making out with him. A little piece of me breaks at the sight. The others are noisily whooping at the scene with the exception of Seungri who looks like he's pretend-gagging. They break off kissing with a loud smack of the lips, Hyuna smiling sweetly and the corners of Jiyong's mouth upturned slightly, the most you can get from Jiyong to smile.

I force myself to look away; feeling like someone had just stab me in the gut. For a second there, I had clean forgotten that he's got a girlfriend. Not just any girlfriend too, it's the school's highly worshipped by males and females alike, the school's top queenka**, Kim Hyuna. A year older than me, a hot bod, a pretty face - I could go on, but to summarize it, she's everything I'm not. She's everything in a girl that Jiyong wants. She's everything in a girl that the whole male population dreams of.

I sigh, staring around at the empty seats around me. I can't believe this, feeling so hurt over a guy who's probably doesn't even know of my existence. And I laugh at the girls in the movies. At least they end up with the hero of the movie. I stare wistfully at the giggling lovebirds. I'm only the background actor, not even worthy enough to be listed in the credits. 

I dump my untouched food in a bin and start walking my way towards the double doors that lead out the cafeteria and into the field. I want to be away from all the hubbub for a while, from the achingly sweet scene I see in front of me.

I pass then with heavy steps, and I find myself looking back, my eyes lingering at Jiyong for a second too long. For a moment there, I think I made eye contact with Hyuna, who had a small smirk on her lips. I turn away quickly, feeling flustered at getting caught looking.

“What are you staring at, babe?” I hear Jiyong asking.

I can just imagine the little smile on Hyuna's face, obscuring the possessive look she had in her eyes as she responds, “Nothing, G, baby, just nothing.”

Feeling like I had just been stepped on, I got out of the stuffy cafeteria and into the school field. As I breath in the cool fresh air, the words Hyuna said taunt me, picking at my insecure bits.

The whole day went by like. There was a pop quiz in maths (one in which I pathetically failed), the class had dodgeball during P.E (I got smothered in balls, one ball even hit me in the right boob), and a bunch of seniors had planted a salmon in my locker, a note was taped on it that said "here, freak, a friend". 

So when the bell rang; I was the first one out the door, sprinting through the school corridors just eager to get home and bury myself in a mountain of blankets and pillows and humiliation.

I run all the way home. It only takes me about 10 minutes but, due my non-existent contribution to sports, I was sweating and panting and a gibbering mess barely managing the short walk up to my front porch. I slam the front door open, and slam it back shut again. Then I trudge up the stairs, and, using the last ounce of strength I have, I flop dramatically onto my bed. I notice a post-it was taped to the headboard, it was written; “There is food in the fridge. Make sure to UNFROZEN the food before eating. I do not want a repeat of last time. You know how to use the microwave oven now. I’ll be back late – something at work came up. Your father will be home by evening. Do your homework, get to bed early. Lots of love, mother.”

Crumpling the yellow paper up, I then toss it aside and roll over to lie on my back. I stare blankly at my ceiling. At the plain off-white plaster. From the dark corners of the ceiling, I make out Jiyong's face, and then Hyuna's, and then a whole lot of other bullies, and then I start hearing the jeering and insults that practically ring in my ears, and I grab a pillow and start screaming into it, as loud and long as I can to drown out the bullies.

My voice is hoarse and cracking when I stop. Hesitantly, I remove the pillow covering my face, a part of it a bit damp from my saliva, and take in huge lungfuls of air. The ceiling is now blank again, no faces of handsome boys whom I'll never  get and their scheming hot girlfriends and the noise in my ears have died down.

I hear small grunting from across the room and my head snaps up.

“Oh, Geobok!” I cry, quickly getting out of bed and approaching the small glass tank where my grumpy turtle sat. I almost forgot about the little guy. After school, I usually have to give him his food – and Geobok is pretty impatient. Additionally, he is hungry all the time.

“Sorry, Geo, I forgot about you for a second there,” I apologize, rummaging through my desk drawer for his food. A small, indignant cluck was his response.

Geobok is a red-eared slider roughly around 3-years-old. He’s about the size of my fist and a bit fat due to his huge stomach and my love to spoil him. That’s probably where his impatience for most things came from. Even now, he has this look of irritation on his face at my absent head.

“Here, here, your food, you ungrateful child,” I say, pouring a bit of the food pellets onto the miniature floating isle. Geobok crawls up the rock. He looks at the food and then looks at me, as if he wants to say something. That goes on for a while but then he starts gobbling up the pellets.

As he ate, I start talking. “Today sucked, Geo. I failed my math test – the teacher had randomly sprung us that one so I have an excuse – and I think I have bruises from P.E. Why couldn’t I be born asthmatic or something? Not that I’m saying that I wanted to be born disabled – I hope the disabled people don’t take offense, they should consider themselves lucky for never having to experience the nightmare which is dodgeball – I just wish I had a little something so that I can forever sit out of P.E class. Physical ed’s stupid anyway, all those balls to the head can lessen brain cells, you know? It’s just a whole other game of prey-predator – and as you know, I’m at the bottom of the food chain so…”

For hours, I ranted. I know Geobok’s just a turtle, I know that he won't understand a single thing that I say. But, as it is already established in the first paragraph of this chapter, I don't have anyone who can be called a friend. I can’t confide in my mother, she’d just tell me of some other totally unrelated story with a huge completely irrelevant  moral in the end and tell me to do my homework. Father is busy 24/7, so I never have the chance to even properly talk to him. And even when we do talk, it’s him criticizing me about one thing or another (as in my sucky grades and lack of school activities).

It may be a bit lonely (and when you look at in one perspective; sad) but I actually like talking to Geobok. When I talk, he always has his head faced upwards at me seeming rapt in attention and his mouth opening at times as if he wants to speak in his part of the conversation.

He’s my only friend, and I am thankful for it. “Who cares if other people label me as a freak?” I say aloud.

I could've sworn I saw Geobok nodding his head.

“I like talking to you Geo, but sometimes,” I break off for a moment, my deep brown eyes staring into Geo’s beady black ones, “sometimes I wish that you could talk back. Having these one-sided conversations can take its toll on a girl like me.”

Geobok grunts.

I laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, chin up,” I nod, my smile faltering. “But I really, really, really wish that you could talk – really.”

Geobok turns away then and starts wading back into the water.

I mock hurt. “You’re ignoring me now? Well, no more extra pellets for you then – you’re having more chins as the year goes by.”

He sharply turns his head back at me, his eyes as if saying, “How dare you insult me, human.”

I laugh at my absurd thoughts and stand up from my position of the past two hours, my joints creaking. Time sure flies but I feel a little better after my long rant. I kiss the tip of my finger and nimbly touch the top of Geobok’s head, giving him a ‘kiss.’

Geobok peers up at me in confusion, like he normally does when I 'kiss' him like that, and I grin. I swivel around and start untying my hair, singing one of my favourites, "But you gotta keep your head up, oh, oh, oh, and you can let your hair down, eh, eh, eh, I know it's hard, I know it's hard, to remember sometimes, but you still gotta keep your head up, oh..."

I know the starting's a little less than what you'd expect. 

But it's the first chap, guys, bear with me here.

Please?

EDIT: Dammit, sorry there were notes there. Here you go.

*I know, I know, 90% of you may probably know this - but you have to think of that 10% who doesn't. The term 'kingka' is basically a male highly worshipped at school. He's got everything. There can be multiple kingkas at the same time.

**the female counterpart of 'kingka.'

EDITED. Whew. Oh, and the song is Andy Grammer's Keep Your Head Up. Also known as that song from Pitch Perfect. That movie is perfect.