I had always been quiet ever since I was younger. I wasn't just a people person. I remember when one girl in Sociology class asked my name. I somehow managed to say my name but it somewhat a weird, strained way. After that, she walked away. And maybe that was the reason why I never had a friend in school. I was weird and it was my fault.

School wasn't really interesting today and I could understand it because it is roughly the first week of the second semester of the second year. Maybe the only thing I was excited about was the fact that people are still enrolling. I still had the hope that I would finally find a friend. Someone who would actually brand me as the weird kid and it would be okay. Maybe I would get through school with a little bit more ease with him or her.

I really like to draw. I hardly noticed that our Trigonometry teacher was a no-show. Trig was my last subject by the way. I consumed two leaves from my trapper keeper. My dad would always say it's a such a waste and I too managed to realize that it is. However, I could not get myself to stop and I'm glad I didn't. I even won an award in a middle school. I realized that at that category, I managed to participate.

The next in my schedule was English 2. I knew it was supposed to be Mr. Jameson's class but they finally got a replacement. Mr. Kingsley with the grey hair kind of reminded me of the wizard characters I see in movies. He even had the same accent. He told us that we were going to go on through the semester reading books and after every book, we are going to write a paper about it. Aside from drawing, I've always been fond of writing. I'm have my own ad-sized column in there where I go and write inspirational messages. I know they might not seem to notice it but then I'm alright with that. Mr. Kingsley talked about new beginnings and how time was much more precious than gold and so he didn't want to end the class early. He sniffed a few times and then told us he wanted to know us a little bit more. What he meant was he wanted us to go in front of the class and introduce yourself. It was something I never really liked although it has been quite a tradition. My turn came. I told them about my newspaper column and how I liked to draw because it was the only thing that seems relevant. I had the whole class laughing however, when Marty Fynn with the red hair almost tripped me on my feet. I was lucky to break my fall on a girl's desk. I said I was sorry.

Everyone passed and the last one came in. I had to say, he was, well, different. And it was a good thing. His features were certainly not of a native. When he put down the hood of his sweater, it revealed his rather peculiar hair. The top part of it was dyed blonde; the rest was of his natural colour. The whole class became quiet when he started to speak.

He only said two things before going back to his seat—his weird name and that he is from South Korea. Mr. Kingsley somewhat tried to keep the ''conversation'' alive but the seemed too reluctant. On the other side of the room, I can see that gawk in Marty and his friends' face which is a clear sign that they do not like the kid.

I had to think otherwise, after all, we had a few things in common now. I have to watch over him and even if he doesn't want me to do so, I'll have to try to change his mind.