They saunter by, the girls with soft, clear faces and cherry lipstick smiles. The sun tiptoed through the door. Perfect lighting for a picture. They capture selfies by the bright red lockers as if to pause their crazy life for a moment. The girls with their glimmering, lazy eyes lure the boys over like sirens.
The boys, like sailors on the sea, answer their call, and sail over. The girls with their sweet, pink scent and flawless bodies laugh their light, giggly laughs when the boys tell them jokes.

They are the girls who can dance. Who get asked to the dances. Those girls with beautiful acrylic nails that break boy’s hearts like they’re flipping a switch. The girls who know how to keep up with the latest fashion trends, like a book nerd keeps up with the latest books. Those girls with the latest phones, and brand name clothes. The girls that aren’t afraid to talk, even if it’s not appropriate. I just have one question. Is it worth it? It doesn’t last forever anyway. Is it worth putting in all that work?

One of them turns their head to glance at me, I smile at her. She doesn’t smile back. She turns her head. Do I want to be one of those girls? No.

I am as popular as a four a.m. car alarm that doesn’t shut off. I love my mane of reddish brown hair and my deer-in-the-headlight eyes. I have a deep, uneven laugh, and can’t flirt to save my life. I’m happy with my nails, painted with cheap Dollar Store nail polish. I have my own trend and style. I am the book nerd. I have a soft, strong silence. I don’t want to be the girl with a cherry lipstick smile.