High school is the most beautiful time in life, they said.

You’re no more a little child, you grow prettier, and you start to fall in love, they said.

But does anyone ever care about what I think?

Well, I think high school . My first years of going to a senior high school were as bland as food without seasoning. No big achievements, no embarrassing incidents (thankfully), no dramas whatsoever. I’m not the brightest student, and I don’t belong in any groups either –I just exist, in the same space and time with everyone else without them noticing.

A wallflower, some may call me.

But I don’t want any names, any titles from them. I’m just happy I’m studying very well and even though I do not rank first in the entire school, I stay away from problems as best as I can so my parents should be so damn proud.

I wasn’t this introverted at first, I swear. I joined a few clubs during freshman year, like any other normal freshmen would, but none of them lasted long enough to entertain me. My bookworm club got shut down (for the lack of any creative activities aside from reading and having a few occasional talk shows with some authors), I quit theatre (since no matter how hard I try, the ones getting casted are eventually –and naturally– the prettier girls), and I just decided to go solo in the end.

It’s practical, for starters. I can’t imagine having to discuss about the latest make-up or fashion trends for hours like the girls in my school do. I can’t imagine having to gossip and keep secrets either, or bullying (God forbid I even think about it, bullying is so not cool).

I like being independent, although it does get lonely at times. I mean, I just need to remind myself that I don’t stay in high school forever. That in a few more years, I will be facing the real world without having to worry about who were friends with me in high school and who weren’t, for we’re all on our own out there.

So here I am, walking to school on the first day of my last year here.

I’m finally a senior.

_

It was during PE, my least favorite subject, when I was called to the principal’s office –which is a first in my whole senior high school experience (also in my life, in general) but then again I’ll give up anything to skip PE. I walk pass this certain office a couple of times, and I’ve seen glimpses of it in the past, but I never really had the need to enter.

The naughtier kids are the ones who frequent this room, so what am I –a perfectly normal, harmless student– doing in the principal’s office right now?

Mr. Do had on one of the blankest face I’ve ever seen (not like I see him that much, but yeah. I only get to see him during welcoming speeches every new school year or when there’s a very important announcement where everyone’s gathered in the auditorium or such anyway).

I keep on wondering what I did wrong today, but nothing came up.

“Have a seat.” He says, without actually looking up from the papers he was reading. “Do you have the slightest idea as to what I called you here for, Miss Oh?” he asks.

“Unfortunately I don’t, Sir.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, of course, regardless how deep I dig up your records –they’re spotless clean, you see. You’re almost like a ghost if it weren’t for your tests and school works. Have you no interest in any school activities at all, Miss?”

Uh oh. Not this again.

“I used to have some, Sir. But I believe I have to focus on studying as I am now a senior.” I feel like patting myself on the shoulder for coming up with a reason that smoothly.

“Fair enough. Well, you’re here because of this.” He says, handing me a golden piece of envelope that is looking so much like an American Idol’s golden ticket or something I almost laughed. “Go on, open it.” he encourages me, so I did just that.

 

CONGRATULATION, RECEIVER OF THIS INVITATION.

You are invited to our school to spend the rest of your senior year, here in JYP High.

JYP High Principal

 

“JYP High?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowed as I try to digest the information.

“The JYP High has been our partner –a sister school for years, I believe you’re aware of this?”

“I am, Sir, but why would they suddenly-”

“It’s their latest program.” Mr. Do cuts me, with a very brief reasoning at that, “Student exchange, they say.” And I’m supposed to believe that.

“So technically, if I were to attend the JYP High, then does that mean someone from there is also coming here?”

“I still refuse to believe it, but yes, pretty much so.”

“And why didn’t it occur to me to ask this earlier, but Sir, why me?”

“They also say you don’t choose JYP, Miss, JYP chooses you.”

“Well?”

“Well…you’re not going to this school anymore, Miss Oh, as you are now officially representing our school at JYP High.”

The word ‘representing’ makes me feel like I’m a diplomat or something, but I’m not, and if this was a joke, it’s such a bad one. Mr. Do blinked that big, owl-like eyes of his.

“Anything else, Sir?” I manage to speak, although I don’t even trust my own voice.

“Good luck in there.” He says, and judging by his tone, I know I’m doomed.

_

My mom isn’t the type to worry or think too much about anything. If any, she thinks I must be so great that the JYP representatives choose me out of everyone at school (like any other normal mothers would think) but I know better than that. My father, on the other side, seems to be overjoyed by this sudden notice. He had always wanted me to learn to live on my own and become independent (when I basically already am) or something along those lines and when I say ‘Yeah, Dad, but why now?’ he just shrugs and says he is thankful for this opportunity.

He even trusted me with a small property he owns near JYP High. My current house is ridiculously far from JYP and he finds it appropriate to kick me out of the house in this occasion. I really can’t say anything as the whole universe seemingly wants to get rid of me.

I wonder why I don’t have any objections, at some point. But this is probably one of the perks of having no close friends. No attachments, nothing.

Leaving will not affect those around me, nor would I long to go back to them.

I’m starting to think that this is great, too. I was getting bored in my old school and this is a chance to start anew, though I’m originally not there to have fun and am obliged to finish high school instead, it’s going to be worth it.

It’s a much needed change in my monotonous life, I think.

So I easily moved out of my house in a day, expecting to go to JYP High the next. I don’t know what to expect yet, but I’m getting ready to face just about anything.

_

Again, why did it not occur to me that I might actually need some help as a new student?

I totally ignored the whole population of students chatting and running about earlier and I am now absolutely all alone in the hallways, with my newly printed timetable. The fact that I’m friend-less needs to change here, at least. Maybe tomorrow, I plan in my heart as I walk pass a few doors.

A gush of wind blows past me, and I tighten my newly tailored mustard yellow jacket uniform around me.

The plates on the doors all start with an ‘E’, I noticed. I checked my timetable once more, it says that my first class is supposedly at W208.

“…the school is divided into two main buildings, east and west…”

Oh , I’m in the wrong building and also –terribly late.

Screw PE classes, none of that helped me reach the first classroom on time. I was no athlete, that I admit, so it isn’t really my fault as I arrived in front of the correct door, fifteen minutes later than planned.

Even so, I’m still trying to catch my breath after that much running, opening the door not-so-discreetly and planning to just barge into the class.

“I’m sorry–hosh–I’m–hosh–late, Sir-” I apologize sincerely, looking up to meet a very handsome young lad in a cute pair of horn-rimmed eye glasses, standing in front of the class.

Is he really a teacher? I honestly almost gasped out loud.

“It’s okay, just for this once though. But please do arrive punctually next time, Miss, and please be seated.” He says after a while.

“–thank you.”

I choose a vacant seat in the middle row, the ones in the front are also vacant but no more getting anyone’s attention for today and thus I shut up and only look forward to the teacher.

The class is eerie quiet, save from the smooching sound a couple in the corner makes. Besides them and myself, the only attendants of this class are a gothic looking girl sulking in the other corner, a pair of twins –a nerdy pair at that, and a bored looking big guy mindlessly chewing some gum. But somehow, the handsome teacher doesn’t seem to mind.

“Now that we’re all here let’s begin our class,” he starts, but the couple stand up immediately.

“Boring.” The girl says, as she links her arm with her boyfriend’s, leaving the 6 people present alone.

“Umm,” I try to figure out what’s happening but the teacher talks again.

“Okay class, my name is Park Jinyoung so call me Mr. Park. We will be assessing a drama of my choice today.” He announces, adjusting his glasses then turning the lights off –taking the empty seat beside me as he turns the LCD projector on.

_

That was awfully awkward.

It’s like junior high school all over again or something.

I could almost feel the burning stare the gothic girl directed at me, the twins too –seemed to be talking about me (How do I know they’re talking about me? They mentioned the girl who’s late, of course). Even the big guy stopped chewing gums and sent me a weird look as well, as though I came from another planet.

On the other side, my handsome drama teacher looked very composed, wearing a very believable façade all through the entire one and a half hour, commenting about the drama every now and then to make up for the lack of response he get. He didn’t seem like the try hard type either, he just –accepts it as it is?

I answered a few of his questions, unsure, but he listened well, and was seemingly trying to figure me out. I’m the new student after all, I realize, and although I don’t like the attention, I decided it was going to be like that for the rest of the day so for that, I must be prepared.

I feel myself already spacing out as I walk to my next class, though, which is math.

And surely, I was in for another surprise, as I see just how packed the classroom is. Like, seriously packed. All the missing students from the drama class earlier seem to be attending this one (bizarre, but isn’t that quite an achievement for a math teacher?). Even the cheerleaders are seated sweetly at the very front rows. I’m now forced to occupy a seat almost at the back of the class, next to an apathetic douchebag.

In walks the teacher, and in an instance, I understand.

He is (also) very young, and to be frank, attractive (not the first one to surprise me here in JYP). A daunting smirk plays on his lips, his eyes sharp and soulful, his physique looks built, and his hair is dyed bright blonde, although his darker roots are starting to show.

“Morning class!” he greets, in a very husky voice that goes with his entire look very well.

“He’s so much more handsome in real life!” “He’s so freaking perfect!” “Perfect my ! I bet he got himself some expensive plastic surgeries.”

Wow, second class of the semester and they’re already talking about their teacher like this? Have they no shame?

“I know I’m fabulous, class, but why don’t we start off with the classic differentials rather than myself, shall we?” he says, looking laid back and is apparently okay with all those not so subtle and also very direct badmouthing, “Alright, please open page 13 on your textbook and…let’s begin!”

He thoroughly explained a few of the basics on the board, and although he is quite the fast-paced type of teacher, his method of teaching is very interesting. He is so full of energy it makes me feel like I’m running a marathon with him instead of taking a math class. He gains the students’ attention (maybe partly because of his handsomeness) but still, those typically lazy type of students listen to him –and so was I. He is very spot on and his explanations are so catchy it makes me want to fangirl about him with the cheerleaders already, and for real I do.

“One more thing class, because I’m the type to score based on who listen to me and who don’t, why don’t we find out with a little pre-test?”

“GOD, NO!” the whole class complains, but to no avail –as he distributes a piece of paper to each student. “Sir, this wasn’t even taught earlier.” One student points something out, but he didn’t budge, his smile only grew wider, like he’d accomplish something great.

“Exactly my point.”

That’s when I start to wonder just what kind of a person he is. He doesn’t seem like anyone I’ve ever met before. He seems like a multi-layered onion where I can’t see what he’s like unless I finish peeling all of his exteriors. I have to wait and see, I guess.

I read the 3 questions provided, 2 of them are to review today’s lesson but the last one is definitely not supposed to be there until maybe 2 or 3 more classes. I know how to do it though, since it’s just basic trigonometry (I’m no genius but sometimes I learn something beforehand randomly just like that).

Fifteen minutes passed and he began collecting the papers. I notice that some of my friends’ were in fact, still blank.

“So that’s all for today! No homework, as per usual, but should you have any problems, do find me on the teachers’ room. Until next time, class!” he says as he leave the class, a few girls following suit.

“Figures.” I scoff. I start packing up my bags, getting ready to go to my next class, but only then did I realize –he didn’t introduce himself.

_

I was in the middle of my last class, paying more attention to the clock hanging on the wall rather than my teacher for the past ten minutes or so when I was (again, for the second time in my senior year and a first in this school that I am in) called into the principal’s office. Well aren’t I setting myself a record?

“Come in.” the principal says, giving me a welcoming smile as soon as I step into his room. It’s my second time seeing him today, but somehow it never fails to amuse me –how young the people working here are, including this very young and bubbly principal in front of me.

“Did I do anything wrong already, Sir?” I start, wondering if he actually minds being called ‘Sir’ since he looks young enough to be my older brother by 4-5 years. He took quite a while to form his next sentence that even I got distracted by his shiny name plate sitting on the table for a few seconds, Im Jaebum, it says in shiny, gold letters.

“Ah, quite the opposite in fact. I want to ask you how your first day went.” He says, like it’s the most important thing on the universe and I struggle to find any hints that he was joking. I found none, and he still looked serious as ever even with that goofy smile of his.

“It was…okay, Sir.” I finally say, struggling to find the right adjective.

“Just okay? But I heard from Jinyoung that you sound so passionate about dramas and that you fit in his class perfectly.”

In that small, almost empty class? Who wouldn’t fit, I almost chuckled.

“Wait, Mr. Park said that about me? I mean, how–”

“Does he know your name?” the principal interrupts, “We don’t always have transfer student or exchange student, you see. You’re the very first one to be representing your school in our student exchange program. Also, the teachers and students here are very close with each other so of course they would know who they should keep an eye on.” The principal continues.

“Keep…an eye on?” I trail, unsure.

“You also had a math pretest today, correct?” asks the principal, downright ignoring my curiosity.

“I did, Sir.” I answer, in the end.

“Jackson said that you are not bad at all. He even said you look promising enough to be able to represent our school in any mathematics competitions in the near future.”

Oh, so his name is Jackson.

But wait, competition?

“I’m sorry, Sir, are you sure we’re talking about me? I mean, I’m a very ordinary kid back then at my old school and I think I am far from being as special as the way you put it earlier, Sir.” I say, finally grasping the weird situation.

“Well I beg to differ then, Miss Oh. You have no proof to support that argument of yours whilst I am holding a copy of your pretest results as we speak. I have also personally talked to the teachers themselves so I can assure you that you’re absolutely no ordinary, Miss Oh.”

“Thank…you?”

“And last but not least, have a wonderful senior year, Miss Oh. Don’t ever hesitate to come to me should you need any help. In JYP High, going to the principal’s office is as common as going to the bathroom.” He states proudly, and I cringe at just how creepy that sounded. Like, what normal human would enjoy coming to the principal’s room on a daily basis?

“O…kay.” I mumble.

“Off you go, then.”