5. My first love

Chapter 5: my first love

As the class settled into its normal routine of idle chatter and whispered conversations, I braced myself for the familiar solitude of this pre-lecture period. For as long as I can remember, I was usually on my own during that period because no one wanted to be seen talking with me. I was an invisible outsider in a sea of cliques and camaraderie.

But to my surprise—and utter disbelief—David's gaze suddenly shifted in my direction, his eyes locking with mine in a way that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins. I tried not to get lost in those ocean blue eyes. I needed to maintain the facade of indifference that had become my shield against the harsh realities of high school social dynamics.

“That girl is just insufferable. Damn!” he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable in the air.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to interject or let the conversation unfold on its own.

"Maybe. But everyone likes her," I offered tentatively.

"What?! I don't think anybody here truly likes her," he countered, his voice growing more impassioned with each word. "From what I've observed so far, they all want to be associated with her just because she's popular."

Could this boy be any more perfect, I asked myself.

His words struck a chord within me. It was the truth that I had always suspected but never dared to voice aloud.

"Wooow. Really?" I responded, my voice filled with genuine curiosity. "I've never really looked at it that way. I just know she has a lot of friends."

“True friends don’t worship you and adore the ground you walk on. That’s what her so called friends do. A real friend will correct you when you’re wrong and tell you the truth when necessary. All that girl has are mere followers. When she is in real trouble, I assure you that they will desert her.”

As I glanced once more at Penelope's corner, a wave of clarity washed over me, stripping away the facade of popularity to reveal the truth hidden beneath. Suddenly, the fake smiles and awkward glances were so obvious to me. Each nod and agreement was a desperate and sad attempt to curry favor with the queen bee of our high school hierarchy. They were all nodding along to everything she said like a herd of sheep, their minds seemingly on autopilot. They had all collectively decided to check their brains at the door in exchange for a coveted spot in Penelope's inner circle.

They all desperately wanted to belong in Penelope’s clique because it made them feel cool, snazzy, trendy and sophisticated. It was as if they had surrendered their own thoughts and opinions, trading them in for the fleeting validation of being part of something seemingly exclusive and glamorous.

I don’t want to ever become like that. I would rather have no friends than have fake friends in my life. True friendship is about so much more than superficial appearances—it is about honesty, loyalty, and genuine human connection. And it is worth far more than the fleeting adoration of a crowd. I will never confuse my fans for reals friends. Ah, the perils of social media fame. Across all my social media accounts—Instagram, F******k, and TikTok—I have a whopping 635 million followers. I could practically start my own country! But when it comes to real friends, well, let's just say I can count them on one hand... with a few fingers to spare.

You see, I learned the hard way that fame comes with its own set of challenges. One moment, you're basking in the adoration of your fans, and the next, they're turning on you faster than you can say 'unfollow.' It's like trying to navigate a minefield in a pair of stilettos—treacherous and potentially painful. It's enough to make a person question their entire existence. If I ever make the slightest mistake, if I post something they don’t agree with, those adoring followers morph into ruthless haters at the drop of a hashtag. In the blink of an eye! What an absurd irony… It's a jungle out there, dear reader, and only the strong survive... or at least, those with a good PR team. My every move is scrutinized and every misstep is magnified for the world to see. But hey, at least I get to enjoy the occasional hate mail and death threats, right?

But I digress. Let’s get back to the story, shall we?

David seemed like a wonderful person and I was grateful that he chose to seat in the losers’ corner with me.

“Umm, David… Thank you.”

He looked at me confused with a raised eyebrow. “You’re welcome but may I ask why you’re thanking me.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I’m not very used to receiving random ‘thank yous,’” he said with a light chuckle.

"Thank you for showing me the truth," I confessed, my voice trembling slightly with emotion. “And for defending me against the mean girl. I know it may seem random, but your words meant a lot to me."

I found the words tumbling out of me in a rush of honesty and vulnerability.

“It was the right thing to do. You don’t need to thank me,” he said with a smile as bright as day.

A mischievous twinkle dancing in my eyes as I decided to joke with him a little. I began, adopting a faux-serious tone. “Who knew you were not just a pretty face, but also a philosopher in disguise?"

His eyebrow arched even higher at my playful jab, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ah, I see," he replied with a mock air of solemnity, playing along with my banter. “But don't get used to it—I can't promise my brilliance will be readily available on demand.”

I couldn't help but laugh at his deadpan delivery. The tension in the air dissipated with each shared chuckle. It was like a breath of fresh air.

“I just realized you never told me your name,” David informed me.

“Oh, that’s true!” I exclaimed. I had been too shy and distracted by his beauty to properly introduce myself. How rude of me!

“Forgive my manners. It’s Jessica Raye Kardashian. Nice to meet you.”

David's eyes lit up with a warm smile as he responded, "That's such a beautiful name. I'll call you Jessie."

I couldn't help but laugh at his suggestion, the nickname sounding oddly endearing coming from him. “Jessie, huh?" I replied with a playful grin. "Well, I suppose it's better than being called 'Hey, you' or 'That girl over there,' so I'll take it."

David was the only sane person in a classroom gone mad. And for that, I was truly thankful. I had found in him a kindred spirit. Or at least that was what I thought. Let me tell you now; I was in for a rude awakening. David was the maddest of them all!